I have heard about a discipline in writing that some subscribe to. You're supposed to make time in your day, every day, to write a certain number of words. Or pages, or paragraphs, or verses.
It just never worked for me. Not for the lack of trying. I gave it the good ole "college try." But when I wrote that way, the writing came out strained. To this day it feels as if a certain hue of predetermination spoils the white of the paper.
Lao Tsu wrote that the Tao does nothing, yet leaves nothing undone. If I want to be like the Tao, I will write nothing, yet leave nothing unwritten. It is sure to be a best-seller...
How do I pursue a discipline without pursuing it? Perhaps, something is lost in translation. After all, even the experts of the Chinese language can't agree on what the ancient characters mean.
Really, it is much simpler than the paradox implies. When I lived in Idaho, I have gone out deer hunting a few times. Getting a deer isn't a sure bet. But you definitely have no hope of getting one if you fail to get your behind off the couch.
A discipline is something we must engage in. Without going hunting, we can never get a deer. However, even if we go, we may still come home with nothing.
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