The Power of Staying Stupid

This week, I started reading Steven Pressfield's book Do the Work.  I'd read his The War of Art before and found it a concise, simple-to-understand treatise on how to make art, so I figured his new book would be, if nothing else, an enjoyable read.

Even though I'm only halfway through (it's a short book and a fast read), one thing really struck me as both counter-intuitive and completely accurate -- his claim that, to make a truly great work of art, we must "Stay Stupid." 

On its surface, that sounds like a preposterous claim, but once he explains it, it's remarkable how accurate his assessment is.

When Pressfield says to "stay stupid," it has nothing to do with intelligence, knowledge, or general ability to navigate your way around your world.  No, his stupidity has to do with maintaining a healthy ignorance of the true ramifications of the work you want to create, the headaches and roadblocks that await you.  He claims, rightly so, that if we stop to think about all the turmoil and strife and angst and agony we'll go through in creating a work of art, we'll never begin because we'll realize just how crazy an idea it truly is.

Case in point -- the recent Raleigh Ringers concert our church sponsored.  I had no experience putting on and promoting a concert; neither did anyone in our music ministries.  None.  I've done a concert or two at our church, but the people who come to that tend to be members of the congregation or family and friends of the performers.  For our church to put on a concert of this size, we'd have to get more people to come -- many more.

Then there were the financial risks: not only did we have to pay a respectable amount for the performers, but we would also have to rent a venue for the Ringers' considerable stage setup.  Add to that costs of promoting and mailing things, and the argument for forgetting the whole thing gets stronger still.

Then there was the man-(and woman-)power issue: our church is not enormous, nor is our music ministries.  For a church with 100 people in the music ministries, the work for each becomes manageable; for our church, with only about 18 in our music ministries, the labor becomes substantial.

And yet, despite all that, we went ahead with it.  Why?  As the ringleader of the whole thing, I maintained a healthy dose of stupidity.  I embraced the motto "Fools rush in where angels fear to tread" -- I hurtled headlong toward putting on this concert, and because I was moving rapidly with my head down, many others thought I must have had some clue what I was doing, and so followed right along with me.  Of course, once they were rushing forward, they had little choice but to keep running with it.


So, what was the result?  The Raleigh Ringers performed in Indianapolis to a crowd of about 700 people from all over Indiana, western Ohio, eastern and central Illinois, and northern Kentucky.  The financial hole we dug ourselves into when we agreed to do this got filled in, with a little dirt left over for other uses.

This is but one example of a universal truth: if we stop to think rationally about those things we feel called to do, we'll often find enough arguments against doing the thing to stop in our tracks and turn around.  Yet look at some of the greatest achievements of mankind, and see if they didn't come about because someone adamantly refused to "listen to reason."  Look at all the explorers, inventors, artists, and entrepreneurs who achieved tremendous success and fame -- nearly every one of them had to battle the Voices of Reason to get started, but once they proved that their unreasonable endeavor could be achieved, their work became the stuff of history.

Ask yourself what you feel called to do, drawn toward, but which you're not doing because it's "unreasonable."  Ask yourself if some well-cultivated stupidity would help you out.  If the worst that happens by proceeding is you'll be out some money or risk looking foolish, then why not take the plunge?  (By corollary, if proceeding has the risk to potentially leave you disabled or dead, think a little bit more carefully before you decide to follow this advice.  Please.)

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go find some other crazy endeavor to stay stupid about ...