Walking to the building again.

And feeling more encouraged than I did yesterday.  Certainly more awake.  No leads meeting this morning, and the cold absolutely helped in raising the writer.  Lots of admin tasks to do for the day, and calls, emails.  May go hit the coLAB, or not.  Like I just posted in a note, not going to think about it.  Not going to plan. This lately has been quite the toxic impediment to me. Just write, I posted just a couple seconds ago.  Thinking is needed for productivity, and not.  More not than actually needed.  Just trust self, and the words you’re putting to page.

This semester, I plan to  talk extensively about productivity, and the act of finishing something.  How when you think, you throw yourself into a cyclical stalemate.  Not writing as fast as I used to, and that’s from thinking, from meditating.  Was suggested by someone in my life, someone I love more than most, that I set down the pen, that I don’t type for a while, take a break.  That’s not the answer.  The solution is in the act, the movement itself, the Road, the act of not thinking or deliberating but production.  Just putting words to the page as quick as you’re able and self-endowed and care not a bit if it makes sense.

Walking to the front door of this building, lighter with no backpack just my latte and phone, I see this AE story and identity as a means of getting to IT.  I’ve felt and written that before, but not like today… not like the 10th day of 2020.  This new year still with its hold and love of me, for me, about and around me.  Again I was called a “speaker” the other day, some even said “motivational” or “inspirational”.  Humbled, but I can’t tell you how much I thoroughly detest those words.  And, ‘speaker’.  I’m a writer.  And essayist, diarist, poet.  Or that’s how I want to be seen.  Then I need to do that more.  And reach 3000 words.  If you want something, singularize it, to one word (Essayist, Poet, Winemaker, Cop, Pilot, etc.), and write 3000 words a day till you’re there.  And you WILL absolutely get there.

Step and another step, toward the door I saw the building differently, the trucks in the parking lot, the people just as I walked in.  This business and how it started just from an idea.  Yes there was thinking involved, but more movement and trusting self than any organized brainstorming or constraint of containment in composition.  When in the classroom with students, I often talk down on structure or excess organization.  I embolden those enrolled to trust self, to write and do for YOU rather than appease the curriculum coffin.  I ask that they tell their story, and see it as an act of kindness.  That they need to share their experiences, they’ll help and connect with someone.  Don’t think about the structure of the narration…. Just tell your story.  Start writing, put words on the page… forget the sense that it’ll make.  Forget to forget, even…. Just expect letters, sentences, movement.

Writing this on the work laptop to start the day as I usually do, and notice there’s 81,000+ words in this document.  What did I write?  What did I see?  I guess I could go back and read, but not now.  Want to further impassion in the day, see what happens.  With the calls, with the emails, with the follow-up communications….  Promised myself that this year I’d become one of the top AE’s in the company.  The only way to make that happen is through movement.  Through writing letters and emails, calling, getting out into the street and meeting people.  Some would say “expanding your network” but I see it more as a collective conversation.  Whatever it is, will contribute more to it today.  Want 2-3 appointments by day’s end.  That’s my aim.  And, keep writing.  Told this to myself even before I started by trot toward the front door.

Movement, movement… no more bloody thinking.  And thinking is bloody, it’s potentially lethal.  It kills the action and trek, the Road you want to see if you have yourself mummified in thinking excessively.  Now that I’m at the desk, starting the day, just sending my day’s plan to Director, I’m feeling that pull… that pull and push to page.  Tech company with a writer in its walls, hearing the office come alive… more activity, more life, some celebrating the fact it’s Friday but that hasn’t even registered with me.  Too focused on the essay of the day.  This… me here now.  Realizing that the thinking has to be extinguished, utterly undone.  And it is.  Personal Legend, I think to myself.  The Coelho Effect, I call it.  As an essayist, or newly-anointed one, I don’t want to continue certain habits or thought-throws.  So, I just stop.  Cold turkey. Like a smoker, or drinker, or someone that’s some style of eater.  Like someone starting some new workout habit and lifestyle.

Last night finishing the final glass of that Educated Guess Cab the past jobs spoke to me.  All of them. Each one of their duty intricacies and “supervisors”.  All of them… the grocery store, the record store, insurance office and all the wineries… teaching.  Now here.  I can’t do another job.  I won’t.  I’m home, here.  Walking to the building from car I don’t feel what I did at other places. It just doesn’t happen.  I’m eager to not only “be productive” but see where the day takes me.  Even cold-calling antagonizes me, if you can believe that.  I can barely understand it, but it’s the Now. Where I am in this office, not thinking and not letting self dwell on what I can or can’t do, where my abilities are versus aren’t.  I only permit movement, a forward.  When you deliberate and not even to excess you stress the self and impede the sought productivity.  Walk to your day’s building and principle edifice with encouragement, your own loving shoves, and knowledge of new knowledge and the everything of every answer.