Week Forty Four [The Final Nine]

The warrior and the artist live by the same code of necessity, which dictates that the battle must be fought anew every day.

The book: The War of Art by Steven Pressfield

The memory: 

Tonight is not a night in which I feel up for battle. My fatigues are on, but they’re more decorative than anything. I feel like a fraud.

Black and White Girl 2Black White Girl 1Those nights happen. Maybe it’s physical exhaustion. Maybe it’s mental exhaustion.

Maybe it’s because tonight, I said goodbye to a group of people whom I’ve grown to really admire. Our level 2 improv class had our show tonight. It’s there, and then poof! it’s gone. I think the end of something always evokes something in me, which I most often like to ignore. As much as I’m learning to embrace change, transience, and inevitable goodbyes, I always have to take a minute to mourn a passing.

Either way, tonight was a night of extreme joy, exhilaration, and emotion, but at the end of the night, I felt as if I needed to be in a blank room, alone, for one minute.

And the beautiful thing is, it passes, like everything else. Start the day anew.

End, Memory Moment Forty Four.

Next Week: Creative Confidence by Tom & David Kelley


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