Among other things, I spent today painting. Or rather, attempting to paint as I was, by any standard, unsuccessful. And then Scott and I concluded as we sat by his gorgeous construction-debris bonfire on the lakeshore that it was good to attempt activities in which we lack skill and experience. Most things I do I consider to be outcome oriented: I want good results in ski races, I wanted good grades in college, I wanted the perfect LSAT score, I brush my hair (or not!) because I want it to look a certain way, etc. I think it's healthy for me, and everyone, to balance outcome oriented activites with process oriented activities (too many process activities and you might not ever finish/accomplish anything, which would also be too bad). The prospect of certain failure, or at best mediocrity, forces one to focus on the process, on the activity itself.

What I painted today was not worth the time I spent painting (nope, not even close). Was I wasting time? No, but I had to realize that my motivation for painting wasn't to produce paintings, it was to engage in the act of painting. Knowing I wasn't going to end with a brilliant piece of artwork also allowed me to embrace mistakes, experiment, and risk completely screwing everything up. That perspective when approaching a task is liberating. If you don't have expectations for the finished product, the fear of failure doesn't weigh on you and you're free to soar wherever. As Ansel Adams said, "to require perfection is to invite paralysis." We must be willing to fail.

This reminded me that EVERY activity has a process and an outcome. Sometimes focusing on the outcome leads to experiencing a really cool process, like how wanting to be a superfast skier has led me into this lifestyle. And sometimes focusing on the process leads to amazing outcomes, like simply enjoying skiing and then becoming superfast. Both process and outcome should motivate and intrigue you for an activity to be worthwhile. I want to remember not to get so caught up in the process that I forget about my ultimate goals and not to become so intent on a particular outcome that I neglect to enjoy the action, mental or physical, of struggling to attain that goal.