 The professional mindset as a practice. What is a practice anyway? To quote, have a practice, unquote, in yoga say or Tai Chi or calligraphy, is to follow a rigorous prescribed regimen with the intention of elevating the mind and the spirit to a higher level. A practice implies engagement and a ritual. A practice may be defined as the dedicated daily exercise of commitment, will, and focused attention aimed on one level at the achievement of mastery in a field, but on a loftier level intended to produce a communion with a power greater than ourselves. Call it whatever you like, God, mind, soul, self, the muse, the super-conscious. The following are aspects of any practice. 76. A practice has a space. A practice has a space, and that space is sacred. There's a wonderful book called Where Women Create. It's a compilation of photos of studios and workshops where various female artists do their magic. The workspaces are those of potters and weavers, quilters and dressmakers, architects and sculptors, painters, filmmakers, editors. The book has an excellent text, but you don't need to read it. Just look at these sacred spaces. What you'll see is this. Order, commitment, passion, love, intensity, beauty, humility, 26 artists with 26 different personal oddities. Many no doubt include divorce, heartbreak, alcoholism, you name it. But every woman in this book has, in her artistic life, transcended these impediments and everyone has arrived at the same space. They all serve the muse, and each has discovered in that service her unique and authentic essence. 77. A practice has a time. Monks in their saffron robes mount the steps to the zendo at the same hour each morning. When the abbot strikes the chime, the monks place their palms together and sit. You and I may have to operate in a more chaotic universe, but the object remains the same to approach the mystery via order, commitment and passionate intention. When we convene day upon day in the same space at the same time, a powerful energy builds up around us. This is the energy of our intention, of our dedication, of our commitment. The goddess sees this energy and she rewards it. 78. A practice has an intention. When Stevie Wonder sits down in the studio at the piano, he's not there to mess around. Stevie has come to work. The ten thousand hour rule, made famous by Malcolm Gladwell in Outliers, postulates that the achievement of mastery in any field, be it brain surgery or throwing a split finger fastball, requires approximately ten thousand hours of practice. But the key, according to Mr. Gladwell, is that that practice be focused. It must possess intention. Our intention as artists is to get better, to go deeper, to work closer and closer to the bone. 79. He come to a practice as warriors. The sword master stepping onto the fighting floor knows he will be facing powerful opponents. Not the physical adversaries whom he will fight, though those indeed serve as stand-ins for the enemy. The real enemy is inside himself. The monk in meditation knows this. So does the yogi. So do the film editor and the video game creator and the software writer. Each day we as professionals face the same monsters and dragons as did Perseus or Balerophon or St. George. The sword master advancing into ritual combat has inwardly made peace with his own extinction. He is prepared to leave everything, including his life, there on the fighting floor. 80. We come to a practice in humility. We may bring intention and intensity to our practice. In fact, we must, but not ego. Dedication, even ferocity yes, but never arrogance. The space of the practice is sacred. It belongs to the goddess. We take our shoes off before we enter. We press our palms together and we bow. Do you understand how the mystery can be approached via order? 81. We come to a practice as students. Even the peerless sword master Miyamoto Musashi entered the fighting square to learn as much as to teach. 82. A practice is lifelong. The Spartan king, a Jeselaus, was still fighting in armor when he was 82. Picasso was painting past 90 and Henry Miller was chasing women, I'm sure Picasso was too, at 89. Once we turn pro, we're like sharks who have tasted blood or renunciants who have glimpsed the face of God. For us, there is no finish line. No bell ends the bout. Life is the pursuit. Life is the hunt. When our hearts burst, then we'll go out and no sooner.