Bring on the Taskmaster!

chains wrapped around a woman's anklesI admit it—I am a slave. Sure, I hide it, presenting myself as a fiercely independent woman in control. Often, I resist it, attempting to ignore my fevered fetishes. But in all honesty, there are significant aspects of my life to which I am unquestionably, albeit joyfully, fettered: my morning latté, my husband, and, most especially, my writing.

I‘ve discovered this: embracing my servitude, instead of ignoring it, brings me to a whole new level of happiness—a kind of oneness with and deep appreciation for my aforementioned masters.

Thus, at 6:30 a.m. when the alarm rings, I rarely crawl back under the covers, because the coffee is calling me and I must answer its call. Truth is, my servitude to my morning latté makes me a better person; it makes me willing to face the day. It encourages me to start slowly, to ignore my “to do” lists for a spell, to forego my anxiety, to resist listening to any negative and critical voices in my head—in other words, to “wake up” before I carpé diem.

As for marital bliss, I’m done. I’m done ignoring that when I let go of my fear of being dependent, my fear of appearing weak, my fear of being in servitude to another—and instead, openly bowed in humble devotion to my husband for some spell every day—our connection grew stronger, our loving more passionate, our experience of “oneness” more complete.

I am not alone in discovering this. It was Rumi who poetically captured one married couple’s bliss:

“Their secret was this: That once every day, for an hour, they treated each other as if they were gods and would, with all their heart, do anything, anything their beloved desired.”

Which brings me finally to writing—my most demanding of masters—and you.

Perhaps you, too, (like I used to be) are currently unwitting slaves to your writing. Maybe you hear the call; you feel the pull; you know the sense of completion that comes when you finally put pen to paper, when you sit down and write.

Perhaps then you also know the sick feeling when you fail to write—the loss of connection to a deep yearning within your soul. The failure to write might be spurred by an innocuous but compelling voice in your head saying you are too busy to write, or a judging voice saying that writing is just too hard, or a voice of anxiety projecting a low-level fear that your work won’t be good enough (these certainly all have shown up for me).

In truth, these excuses—these “voices”—are conditioned fearful responses to anything that might awaken something powerful within. I say that because I’ve seen behind the veil. I’ve seen writing for what it truly is in my life: My Guru. I now bow before it and use it to pay attention to life as it unfolds, to practice ruthless honesty, to be courageous before the pen, despite the voices. And to write no matter what.

But it didn’t come easily. I had to work at it. I pussyfooted my way along at first, dipping my toes into the writing waters. Dabbling. Sure, I read the value of adopting a predictable writing practice, but couldn’t quite manage to do it. I “tried” to establish a writing practice instead of committing to one. Frustrated, I carved out time for a writing retreat at some point, but the voices came along. That’s when I discovered the value of having someone else—a friend, a close relative, a writing coach—hold me accountable. Someone who would ask me, “How much writing did you do today?” Someone, who would respond to my squirming resistance that it “just wasn’t happening today,” with a firm, “So?”

In short, I discovered the value of having a Taskmaster.

And sure enough, my Taskmaster primed my writing pumps. My Taskmaster helped hone my servitude to the page. My Taskmaster focused my attention and helped me see that writing does not always flow.

Having just completed Open, master tennis player, André Agassi’s memoir, I appreciate that just as he had bad tennis days (years even) and still kept practicing tennis, so too must I continue to practice my writing. And, just as his fitness coach, Gil, helped him, my Taskmaster helps me. In remaining committed to my writing practice, I have forged a trustworthy connection with that deep yearning within my soul to write. I honor the unwritten contract.

These days, I make a reachable commitment and then bow humbly before my Guru and do its bidding. I write. (And if I don’t, my Taskmaster calls me to the table.)

So if you find yourself faltering, I say, “Bring on the Taskmaster!” It is time to get serious.

Photo Credit: https://pixabay.com/en/chains-feet-sand-bondage-prison-19176/