"The professional, though he accepts money, does his work out of love. He has to love it. Otherwise he wouldn't devote his life to it of his own free will."

"The more you love your art/calling/enterprise, the more important it's accomplishment is to the evolution of your soul, the more you will fear it and the more Resistance you will experience facing it."

"The amateur believes he must first overcome his fear; then he can do his work. The professional knows that fear can never be overcome"

Today, as I mope around in PJ's, trying not to cough out my lungs, I am pleasantly filled with these quotes and thoughts. Thoughts I hope to carry with me today, tomorrow, this month, this year from a book called, "The War of Art," by Steven Pressfield.

And all I can say Steven, is thank you.

Thank you for reminding me that when we feel we are born to create, we must create, each and every day. Not the sort of "born to create," in that as soon as we begin, we will heap mountains of success, and bills our britches can no longer hold. No, the sort of, "born to create," where even when each creation reeks of utter failures and our pockets are crying of cobwebs, we continue on. Continue, purely for the love of forming and making something entirely of our own.

Too often I give into the Resistance, the sort of cries from my mind that reprimand and claim, "You are much too old to expense these extra minutes, and hours on making music." Yet, these extra minutes, these extra hours given to creating, are my joy. They are the gifts God gave me to feel a sense of wonder and purpose in life that can't be bought for any price in this world. 

So today, I hope to send these thoughts and quotes forward to you all. I hope they serve as inspiration and reminders to live out your joy-fillers. To not ignore the passions that were sewn into your veins. I know the ones sewn into mine, and it is up to me to choose to live them out each day. 




"It is a commonplace among artists and children at play that they're not aware of time or solitude while they are chasing their vision. The hours fly. The sculptress and the tree- climbing tyke both look up blinking when mom calls, "Suppertime!"- Steven Pressfield