Vessel №1
These are the first few words of a new writing practice I’m going to incorporate into my calendar. I’ve been threatening to begin writing for years, but much like the decision to take up running, writing doesn’t seem like something you can do ad-hoc. The frequent and repeated practice it requires promises inevitable discomfort and plenty of moments where you won’t necessarily “feel like it.”
Having gone from a person who used to say to themselves there is no way I could run a mile, to becoming an avid long-distance runner, I know the only difference between the me who thought it was impossible and the me who realized it was, is routine. The obvious lesson is that both running and writing (and basically anything you want to be good at) are about a commitment to a journey. To succeed is to experience the trials and tribulations of each run and to make that commitment to lace up, even when it’s raining — especially when it’s raining.
To keep on going, you have to keep up the rhythm. This is the important thing for long-term projects. Once you set the pace, the rest will follow. The problem is getting the flywheel to spin at a set speed — and to get to that point takes as much concentration and effort as you can manage.
— Murakami
I guess what I’m talking about is what I talk about when I talk about writing. I’m just starting this writing practice, and my long-distance runs haven’t happened in years, but you don’t have to be Murakami-level in either discipline to reap the benefits of routine.
However, there is one crucial distinction between running and writing: writing feels far more vulnerable, particularly when published. Running on the other hand, is very private. No one knows if you need to take a “walk break” when you see a daunting hill, or if you felt sluggish and performed poorly, no one really knows how fragile your practice is at first. You can struggle through your initial runs and get better before you compete in races, and even then, most of us aren’t competing against others. Runners are always only looking for our own PR (personal record). I consider that my writing practice starts with the same intent.
I am an equally intermediate ceramicist as I am runner, and also haven’t thrown in quite some time. But, I’m reminded of something one of my former ceramics instructors once said “to be really good at pottery one should attempt to throw the exact same vessel 100 times, mark each one with a number at the bottom and then line them up and watch as they improve.” I love this as a great visual metaphor for any practice.
Routine is about keeping a promise to yourself, and that alone is powerful. Think back at times in your life when you were happiest; what routines did you observe? More importantly, how did your diligence make you feel about yourself and your potential? I’m fascinated with details that make a whole, and the power of the mundane. If you follow me here, you will hear this in various forms but mostly as they pertain to my work, my passion for design with a capital D, and my belief that there has never been a more important time to cherish and re-design the every day moments of our work and lives.
I’m passionate about Service and Experience design, but have grown up in a Brand Marketing landscape as a traditional graphic designer. I feel at home with product, brand, and marketing teams and believe that the future involves far more hybrid roles like mine.
I will stumble through articulating my ideas, but commit myself to lace up—rain or shine, and get some words into the world; not because I’m deluded and think I’m prolific, but the opposite — because I want to be better. Yes, better at writing, but also just better. Better at routine, better at focus, and most importantly deeply satisfied from honoring my commitments to myself.
