Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Wednesday May 10, 2006 - Year 4, Day 51 – servant of process
Frequently Asked Questions:
1. people ask me why ?
2. why do musings ?
3. why the format ?
4. why the weather report ?
5. why the dog walking report ?
6. why the ending with the # of hours left in my life ?
7. why add the responses from the previous day ?
8. when/how do you write musings ?
Answers:
1-2 What began as a lark . . a note to 6 friends + my daughter soon became become habit, hobby, fixation, fun & most importantly –a cathartic learning experience as the hub of a wheel which connects daily with so many incredibly interesting people all over the world . . . strange some times how much we are different, stranger still how much we are the same
3. It has evolved . . but mostly so it is consistent in terms of structure & to make it as simple as possible to do, to read . . . a beginning & an end pierced by a middle !
4 - 7 Structure, habit, routine, formatting
8. I am a creature of habits, the repetitive routine of this process allows me to do the mundane & routing as I am waking up. When I get up I boot up my computer for the day, check my mail . . then construct the format of the day’s musing . . leaving the middle . . the blank white space; that in between space between the bookends of that structure, like an Oreo cookie waiting its filling to be installed . . THEN I walk Gusta . . . then I write about my walk, then . . lastly . . I write the middle portion. Sometimes I return filled with ideas that leap from my fingertips to the keys, but more often I have a jumble of ideas that need to be poured onto the page & rearranged quite a bit before reaching any stage called cogent or complete
today’s musing:
1C/34F in south Calgary [chilliest place in Canada this morning], brilliant day ahead, calm chill mitigated by perfect empty sky, the cleanest clear blue
I was wondering, if there is a ‘perfect day’ model for creativity, for success, for achieving great things . . it MUST be a day like today
I cannot imagine achieving something great on a gloomy day
I cannot imagine solving a complex problem in waves of pounding rain
I cannot imagine having an ‘ah-ha moment in the heart of a cruel blizzard
no . . this is the day, this is the kind of day when great things can happen
I am a servant of process; just as these musings happen to be a product of that process . . my day, my routine for getting things done – yet every now & then I try something radically different only finding, should it stick, that I have worked it into my routine . . so it no longer feels radical . . it IS routine, it is part of the routine
musings began that way; the walking & the writing were a radical departure . . but in those first few months of doubting & wondering what this was, where this was going I adopted it into my routine, made it servant of this process
what once was a radical departure from my routine is now the very foundation of how I make my way into & through my day
I wonder what I’ll do next ? change next ? solve next ? make part of my life next ?
meeting downtown & drive time dictate I scoot now . . adieu
Mark
1. people ask me why ?
2. why do musings ?
3. why the format ?
4. why the weather report ?
5. why the dog walking report ?
6. why the ending with the # of hours left in my life ?
7. why add the responses from the previous day ?
8. when/how do you write musings ?
Answers:
1-2 What began as a lark . . a note to 6 friends + my daughter soon became become habit, hobby, fixation, fun & most importantly –a cathartic learning experience as the hub of a wheel which connects daily with so many incredibly interesting people all over the world . . . strange some times how much we are different, stranger still how much we are the same
3. It has evolved . . but mostly so it is consistent in terms of structure & to make it as simple as possible to do, to read . . . a beginning & an end pierced by a middle !
4 - 7 Structure, habit, routine, formatting
8. I am a creature of habits, the repetitive routine of this process allows me to do the mundane & routing as I am waking up. When I get up I boot up my computer for the day, check my mail . . then construct the format of the day’s musing . . leaving the middle . . the blank white space; that in between space between the bookends of that structure, like an Oreo cookie waiting its filling to be installed . . THEN I walk Gusta . . . then I write about my walk, then . . lastly . . I write the middle portion. Sometimes I return filled with ideas that leap from my fingertips to the keys, but more often I have a jumble of ideas that need to be poured onto the page & rearranged quite a bit before reaching any stage called cogent or complete
today’s musing:
1C/34F in south Calgary [chilliest place in Canada this morning], brilliant day ahead, calm chill mitigated by perfect empty sky, the cleanest clear blue
I was wondering, if there is a ‘perfect day’ model for creativity, for success, for achieving great things . . it MUST be a day like today
I cannot imagine achieving something great on a gloomy day
I cannot imagine solving a complex problem in waves of pounding rain
I cannot imagine having an ‘ah-ha moment in the heart of a cruel blizzard
no . . this is the day, this is the kind of day when great things can happen
I am a servant of process; just as these musings happen to be a product of that process . . my day, my routine for getting things done – yet every now & then I try something radically different only finding, should it stick, that I have worked it into my routine . . so it no longer feels radical . . it IS routine, it is part of the routine
musings began that way; the walking & the writing were a radical departure . . but in those first few months of doubting & wondering what this was, where this was going I adopted it into my routine, made it servant of this process
what once was a radical departure from my routine is now the very foundation of how I make my way into & through my day
I wonder what I’ll do next ? change next ? solve next ? make part of my life next ?
meeting downtown & drive time dictate I scoot now . . adieu
Mark
341,732
