There is the coffee I greet the morning with. Turmeric, pepper, nutmeg, a pinch of ginger, and Ceylon cinnamon, plus milk, and a smidgeon of Manuka honey.
Then there’s the green tea I tend to make when it’s around 6:00 (or 18:00 if you’re here in Tokyo). I look at how much I have achieved, and it’s so, so easy to just…collapse in on myself, like a decade-old exercise ball. But I am determined, in the midst of this particular pandemic, to sidestep Resistance, so named by one of my invisible coaches, Steven Pressfield:
If you don’t believe me, look around at friends and family who have talent and ambition in spades … but are drinking, doping, abusing themselves and their loved ones, wasting their lives because they can’t get out of their own way and do the work they were put on this planet to do. Trust me: you will NEVER, NEVER achieve your dreams until you learn to recognize, confront, and overcome that voice in your head that is your own Resistance.
There is no good reason under the sun for me to ignore this. At 62, it’s more important than ever before that I sidestep, even perhaps honor, Ms. Resistance. She lives here with me as I shelter in place. She is relentless and delighted at my least effective impulses.
But I think she may be a friend in disguise. If I put my work out there, I am exposing my ego to…whatever. Since she knows that I am a genial hermit, she believes that she is my shield of armor. Don’t start none, won’t be none, so to speak. Instead, she is my obstacle.
So, I will sit in the chair each day, and do my work. I will wave at Ms. Resistance, smile, and let her know, gently, that I’m gonna do it anyway.
Then see what happens.