Waiting

I think of myself as a patient person.  I can usually put up with a considerable amount of BS before I blow a fuse on anyone or anything.  (That is, of course, excepting the "free-zone" that happens between the time I get behind the wheel of my car and have to share the road with every brain-dead idiotic sharp-as-a-sack-of-wet-mush driver in North America - who for some reason need to be travelling the same direction as me, albeit ten km/h slower, swerving; thank goodness for those virtueless free zones.)

The down side of this is that I'm a bit patient with the creative process, consistently waiting for the creative spark to hit before I commit myself to action.  This delay is in direct opposition to what I know to be best practices when it comes to composition and artistic expression.  As a tutor, "writing to learn" is a phrase I'm  familiar with, and one which I know to be based on sound principle (thanks to few times I've actually engaged in what could be deemed a writing to learn process).

It's very much the problem with this blog, as I wait for a dash of inspiration to hit. (Still waiting, if you can't tell.)  I really need to force myself to sit down and write every night, even if it means being dull about it.  I've had good intentions.  Heck, I've been paving roads with them ever since this little project started.  Hopefully (and this is where it gets good), tonight can be the start of the implementation of those good intentions.

The thought process that sparked this reflection earlier today actually centred on how this "patience" of mine really does retard a lot of action in which I'd like to be engaged.  I want to be a better mandolin player, yet I don't take 5 minutes a day to play, because I'd rather take 30 minutes.  I want to be a better student, but I don't take the time to read half an article because I'm waiting for the time to read the entire thing.  I'd like to be a better writer, but I don't sit down to write for ten minutes because I'd like to take the time to write the epic that I'm sure is gloriously fermenting away in the annals of my subconscious.  I think you get the point.

This weekend our band opened for a band that included a 79 year-old mandolin player who had some great chops.  I'm sure he didn't sit around waiting for the perfect opportunity to practice, just like I'm sure Thile, McCoury, Skaggs, and Grisman didn't/don't sit around waiting for the perfect opportunity to sit and practice for a preferred length of time.

Just as life is best lived in the present, mandolin playing, writing, studying, are all best done in the time in which one has to do them, which is probably right now.