In my quest to stop finding the perfect pen, I came across an interesting thought about making the time and space to practice. I’ve known for a while that good practice is consistent and should be uncomfortable. That’s where you learn, right on that edge of your abilities.
The new (to me) idea I just figured out is that the act of going to practice should be uncomfortable too.
Making time and space for practice is primarily emotional. Separating from your everyday life for a little while feels awkward, strange. It’s part of the process.
This note comes from the great site, Actionable Books. They’re a site that summarizes business (and other) books. The book in question here is The First 20 Hours, which is next on my reading list.
I’ve heard the term woodshedding. That’s where jazz musicians would sometime literally go live in the woodshed and practice until they came back with new skills, songs and ideas. I never really thought about how uncomfortable that might be. Certainly in the shed there aren’t “comforts of home”, but also emotionally you are totally cut off from everything and everyone.
I’m struggling to find time, space and ideas for what to practice. I feel like I need to be doing something, but I always get bored. Maybe I need to embrace everything about being uncomfortable about stopping to look for the perfect pen.