There Is No Wall
A Realist's account on the magnitude of progress: confronting the Everyday.
“Any man can fight the battles of just one day,” begins a passage collected in Richmond Walker’s book of meditations for recovering alcoholics, Twenty-Four Hours a Day. “It is only when you and I add the burden of those two awful eternities, yesterday and tomorrow, that we break down. It is not the experience of today that drives men mad. It is remorse or bitterness for something which happened yesterday or the dread of what tomorrow may bring. Let us therefore do our best to live but one day at a time.”
― Austin Kleon, Keep Going: 10 Ways to Stay Creative in Good Times and Bad
For the past year till date, I have been attempting to do one exact same thing every morning without fail.
When the year began, it was working on my book. The goal: two pages every morning. Although not always consistent, I did celebrate seven day streaks regularly. Today, I boast of a 16 chapter unfinished first draft, with at least seven pages each. Emphasis on ‘unfinished’ and ‘first draft.’ Initially, the whole book Idea was gravely intimidating. It still is. Looking at a book on the shelf, nice cover art, carefully formatted text and the fresh smell of paper, nothing is as daunting. Unless exposed to the authors’ process, heeding to how the perfect-looking book came to life, it remains abstract and undoable.
Lately, because my book writing is on hold, and having fallen into the abyss of excessive calorie consumption without working out, something I had been previously doing almost every day, I decided it’s time I wake up early and get some exercise. Now, this I have never done before. Never an early riser on personal volition. Only in boarding school, woken up by the 5AM bell or whistle. And even then, I struggled. Boarding school is routine; wake up and bedtime are cast in stone schedules, as are meals, study time, play time, et al. The time to do whatever we wanted under minimum supervision at the dormitories was also scheduled. Suddenly, in my young-adult years, the impossible has to be attempted—when the 5AM alarm goes off, jump. Well, the results are in and, at the time of this writing, I clocked a four day streak.
After about two months, I finally jumped out of bed and, dripped in my white Chucks or Adidas running shoes, I hit the gym. However, in all my probably procrastination planning—printing out habit trackers and trying to limit screen time before bed (because, as my mind whispers to me everyday in utter betrayal: how am I sleeping when Instagram Reels and TikTok are just there), you know; the modern war—thinking about a time where I was now doing it perfectly killed the slightest motivation and belief of ever achieving that possibility. It was, and still remains, as if constantly imagining myself at the peak of my desired routine, at the end goal; holding my finished book in hand, or staring at a Hercules figure of myself in the mirror, body of an Immortal, a six pack waiting to be a thirst-trap on Instagram(Oh Yes! I’m vain like that), is a cancer to the very pursuit of that end.
In the introduction to his book Will, Will Smith details how his dad made him and his brother, Harry build a wall. Everyday, for nearly a year after school, they’d both head to his fathers’ shop to work on that front wall. Weekends, holidays, vacations and through the summer, they worked, mixing the concrete and laying the bricks. One day, he says, they were in a mood, dragging their feet and grumbling, “impossible this” and “ridiculous that.” “Why’d we have to build a wall for, anyway? This is impossible. It’s never gonna get done.” When his dad overhead him, he threw down his tools, marched over to where they were yapping. He snatched a brick out of Will’s hand, held it in front of them and said, “Stop thinking about the damn wall! There is no wall. There are only bricks. Your job is to lay this brick perfectly. Then move on the next brick. Then lay that brick perfectly. Then the next one. Don’t be worrying about no wall. Your only concern is one brick.”
As much as he hated to admit it, Will says, he began to see what his dad spoke of. Whenever he focused on the wall, the job felt impossible. Never-ending. But when he focused on one brick, everything got easy. “I knew I could lay one damn brick well….”, he thought. Nearly a year after they had begun, they mixed the final pile, filled the final bucket, and laid the final brick. As they stood on each side of their dad beholding the majesty of their new family wall, their dad said, “ Now, don’t y’all ever tell me there’s something you can’t do.”
The lesson, which can’t be further dumbed down, is also in what Ryan Holiday, best selling author of Ego is the Enemy, The Obstacle is the Way and Stillness is Key…, said when asked about where books come from. “ You sit at your desk, everyday for almost a year, writing at least one page, then, in no time, you have a book. That’s the secret.” It is the same advice that got me trying to sit and write at least two-pages every morning.
Am I sounding like your typical toxic positivity gurus yet?
Well, even though this is wisdom carried on from the olden ages, employed by the world's greats, it can never be overstated. Consistency is where it’s at. Celebrities say it all the time. Authors too. The great sportsman. The now famous Youtubers. It’s everywhere. I know this. And you probably do too. However, time and again, we need that constant reminder, a rejuvenation of the mind. And, we must note, feeding fire firewood doesn’t take away the identity of the fire being fire, pun intended. Likewise, consistently drinking from this well of the ‘consistency’ rhetoric is no sign of weakness. To remain consistent, focusing on each day as it comes, separating it from the overwhelming weight of the future goal is of the essence. And, maybe, grace in the face of God and the universe may be found.
On days where the routine is heavier, maybe almost everyday, or just traversing through this life in my young adult years, my mind teleports back to that defining day where Will felt like he was building the Great Wall of West Philly and, there I’m reminded: There is no wall. Just bricks. And my only task is to lay each brick perfectly, then move on to the next one. Lay that brick perfectly. Then move on to the next. And, if done right, at the end of it, will be a wall.
Else, Aluta Continua; the struggle continues, beautifully so.
HERE’S WHAT I’VE BEEN JAMMING TO LATELY:
In all his majesty, the King of Soulful Amapiano, for the second time in one year, graced us with another album; Jazz Cruise Series Vol.1 Album Review coming soon.