Last week I wrote about the act of showing up to catalyse the process of starting an art project, or any project really. This week I'm back with a follow-up post in the series, exploring one of the reasons why we don't start and do the things we should. But first, an anecdote, as usual.
I love mathematics, I always have. It was easily my favourite subject in school because it was the one subject I didn’t feel like I needed to study for. I always found that solving a maths problem was always an exercise in desire and faith – the desire to want to take the first step towards solving the problem, i.e. to show up and get started, and once at that first step, the faith that the next step would reveal itself. But it didn't end there, because once that step revealed itself, there'd be even more faith that the next step would reveal itself, and so on and so forth. In other words, from the starting point at step 1, I was well aware that I couldn’t see step 3, but I didn’t need to. All I needed at that point was to see step 2, even if it was a blurry, vague, uncertain image.
The way I visualise this is as if I’m finding my way through a dark tunnel, and all I have to light my path is a candlelight that only lets me see in front of my face (or my feet). Unlike a torchlight that can project a powerful beam of light, this dim light doesn’t let me see far ahead to the end of the tunnel. It only enables me to see just enough to take the next step, and so it allows me to just about inch forward. And once at that next step, the light enables me to see the next step, and so on and so forth.
The thing is, if I don’t take that first step, then the next step will just never reveal itself. I could stand in the same spot all day, searching for a better source of light, waiting for the entire path to reveal itself, planning for any and all eventualities, but it’ll all amount to nothing if I don’t take that first step. All my efforts will result in futility if I simply fail to start, to take the first step.
This is the paradox of starting. There’s a danger to doing endless research or background tasks or grunt work before starting something, but it is futile because starting is what we need to do, to truly get started. We just can’t know what we need to know until we start. This idea is captured succinctly by Becky Blades, author of Start More Than You Can Finish, who said ‘Once we take first action, the creative process takes the lead.’
In my experience, starting requires the desire, the faith, and the courage to venture into the realms of the unknown. Starting requires the desire to take the first step on a journey when the road ahead isn't mapped out, the faith to trust the process and the path you’re on, and the courage to follow the path where it leads, even, or especially when you’re unsure of where the path may take you.
Of course, this is easier said than done. It goes against human nature to venture into the realms of the unknown, and yet, it is just what needs to be done if we are to start the projects, the ventures, and the artworks that call out to us. Like many of life’s paradoxes, the paradox of starting requires the sort of action that many would consider unintuitive. There’s a temptation to want to map out the entire process from beginning to end before starting properly, and there’s a desire to want to plan for any and all eventualities that may arise. While there are benefits to mapping things out and planning for what could go wrong, it behoves us to know when we’ve done just enough mapping and planning, just enough to take the plunge and just do the thing.
PS: Just a reminder that my latest record, All Behind is out now, everywhere. You can listen to it on several platforms. Please share it with a friend, share it with your social networks, and consider subscribing to the newsletter (below), my YouTube channel, or wherever else you listen to music.