Change of Venue

Can anyone deny that we’re creatures of habit? Even if we’re constantly trying something different, that constitutes a habit of its own. There’s just no escaping the habitual label. [smile] I myself tend to be more of the traditional habit type versus the adventurous sort. Sure, I’ll give most things a go (my motto in youth was “try everything at least once”) but when it comes to routine I tend to stay with what works.

This week marks the beginning of my nomadic writing experience. Not surprisingly, this wasn’t triggered by some awesome inspiration but by the temporary closure of my normal writing venue. I tend to think of The Bedford Library as “the office” or “work” as most of us refer to it. They’re closed for approximately three weeks to conduct what I can only guess to be minor upgrades. It was all I could do not to ask if one of the tasks to be completed was replacing the carpet which is the only real deficiency I’ve noted about “my office.” I thought it better to keep my comments to myself. Nobody likes a nagging tenant… especially one that doesn’t pay proportionally to their usage!

What did strike me about my visits to different writing locations is how much we are all the product of our environment. Again, we’re not breaking any new ground here, but the lessons are sometimes so simple that we neglect the power of their true implementation. The effect of my surroundings on my writing was but one of the elements that brought this to my attention recently. One of the most widely accepted precepts of being a modern writer is that you must also be a modern reader, voracious if you can manage it. This is the most basic element of “your environment” as a writer as you’re clearly shaping your mind by what you put into it. This goes quite a bit beyond just learning by example, which might be truer of reading someone else’s computer code.

Then there was a passage in the Dhammapada, a Buddhist collection of writings that was part of a monthly book review group I started participating in. There are numerous translations of the original text into English, but the one I was provided included this as stanza 61:

If, in your course, you don't meet
your equal, your better,
then continue your course,
     firmly,
         alone.
There's no fellowship with fools.

Some of the other translations spelled out a little more clearly the importance of the company you keep. This really gave me pause to think about who I spend my time with and who I “follow” for lack of a better word. In today’s society we have the benefit of advanced communication and the ability to essentially be a follower of someone that we’ve never personally met or ever will. While that’s a positive product of technology, the flip side is that we rarely get to interact with these influencers, whether they’re miles away or long dead.

Without delving too far into the philosophical nature of all this, the real power of this concept is much simpler. Don’t like the “output” of your life? Then change the input. We’ve probably all heard the stories that sometimes when your life has gone down such a destructive path you need to change your friends to heal yourself. Why let it get to that point? We all have the capability to examine our life, our situations and consciously make efforts to alter their course. This doesn’t have to mean leaving friends behind or changing our associates, sometimes all that’s necessary is a constructive discussion around the viewpoints that you feel are incompatible with your own.

Pursuing that tract takes strength of character and conviction. Not things that should be taken lightly… but things may very well be the desired outcome of any honest introspection. Sometimes a change in surroundings forces you to reexamine everything, even yourself.