*Typing*

It's impossible to read when you are anxious. You can try. But, you will find that while you might be looking at the words and turning the pages, you aren't actually absorbing anything. To read well, you must be both calm and fully-present with the book in front of you.

The same can be said for listening. Many of us think we are good listeners. But, in actuality, we are not. Listening while thinking about something else isn't listening; neither is listening while silently disagreeing nor listening while thinking about what you're going to say after the other person stops talking.

To listen––to truly listen––you must be calm and fully present with the other person. You must suspend judgement and thought while yougenuinely attempt to hear what the other person's is saying. This––this is listening.

Songs are "supposed" to be three and a half minutes long. Frank Ocean's Pyramids is nearly ten minutes long.

Films are "supposed" to be 120 minutes long. Martin Scorsese's Irishman is 209 minutes long.

Paintings are "supposed" to be pulled from a palette of 10 to 20 essential colors. Mark Rothko's Orange and Yellow pulls from just three.

Novels are "supposed" to be 120,000 words. Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451 is 46,118 words.

Rules in art aren't so much rules but suggestions. They should certainly be considered but they don't have to be accepted.

Miyamoto Musashi is widely considered the greatest samurai to ever live. He was undefeated, winning more than 60 duels. Musashi invented the "niten ichi-ryu" technique, which involved wielding not one but two swords at the same time. He was also a deep thinker. In his life's masterpiece, The Book of The Five Rings, he shared 21 rules he believed everyone should live by...

1. Accept everything just the way it is.
2. Do not seek pleasure for its own sake.
3. Do not, under any circumstances, depend on a partial feeling.
4. Think lightly of yourself and deeply of the world.
5. Be detached from desire your whole life long.
6. Do not regret what you have done.
7. Never be jealous.
8. Never let yourself be saddened by a separation.
9. Resentment and complaint are appropriate neither for oneself nor others.
10. Do not let yourself be guided by the feeling of lust or love.
11. In all things have no preferences.
12. Be indifferent to where you live.
13. Do not pursue the taste of good food.
14. Do not hold on to possessions you no longer need.
15. Do not act following customary beliefs.
16. Do not collect weapons or practice with weapons beyond what is useful.
17. Do not fear death.
18. Do not seek to possess either goods or fiefs for your old age.
19. Respect Buddha and the gods without counting on their help.
20. You may abandon your own body but you must preserve your honor.
21. Never stray from The Way.

If you're an aspiring singer-songwriter, playing for free at the county fair isn't such a terrible gig. You get to practice your craft in front of thousands of people. The problem, of course, is that these people aren't paying much attention to you.

They're deep-throating corndogs, chugging Mountain Dew slushies and waiting in line for their ride on the Tilt-A-Whirl, Scrambler or Zipper. An aspiring singer-songwriter plays the country fair for free for the chance to turn a handful of the thousand or so people in attendance into raving fans.

The hope for the aspiring singer-songwriter is that after several dozen free appearances at several dozen county fairs, they will eventually have a handful of fans that love their work so much, they'll be willing to pay to see them perform in a more intimate setting. The aspiring singer-songwriter plays for the masses with the expectation they will lose 99% of them to find their truest fans.

Because of this, losing readers, followers, listeners and subscribers should be celebrated. You're getting closer to the truest essence of your fanbase.

We apply labels to the world around us to help us make sense of our experience.

We do this constantly with ourselves...

"I am a Christian."

"I am a Buddhist."

"I am a Republican."

"I am a Democrat."

"I am a lawyer."

"I am a painter."

It's worth asking ourselves if this habit of labeling is truly adding to our experience.

When we apply a label to ourselves, we become tempted to embody that label the way water embodies the shape of the glass it enters.

Is this a good thing? I cannot say for sure. What I will say is the kind of "all or nothing" behavior that comes with embodying the labels we choose for ourselves grants us a very limited view of the world.

What if we dedicated a little time each day completely doing away with labels? Try moving from one experience to the next as a label-ess being. Simply exist in each of the day's moment the way an unbiased narrator would.