In response to stuckness

I have an interesting discussion going about something we're calling linearism. As a result, I've had some thoughts on stuckness. Most of the artistic blocks I have seen are a type of stuckness, though to the artist it feels more like just a blank slate or lack of inspiration.

But in terms of stuckness itself, a linear approach (first I do this, then I do that) to become unstuck is often a critial culprit in stopping progress. All the perfectionists I know have lots of reasons for why they must do a certain something before they can complete a task.

The need to finish things in proper precedence can derail or stop the train because one step isn't working out. I cannot chew the gum because I didn't take the gum out of the wrapper. While it is true the gum will taste better sans paper, it is probably possible to chew the gum with the paper on, removing bits as the paper shreds.

So how desperate are you for the flavor of gum?

encountering stuckness

Most people I've talked with about it admit they go through times when they know what they want to do (or need to do, or "should" do) but just... don't do it. Sometimes this happens as a full-blown procrastination incident, complete with agonizing. Other times, focus just shifts to something else, and we only later notice "hmm, I didn't do X yet!" Could be good or bad, depending on how urgent/important the "something else" was.

Lately, though, I've been thinking about a related but more-intense phenomenon: the kind of stuck feeling where we know a situation isn't as it should be, but have trouble even coming up with an idea about what we want to do, or need to do, or "should" do about that situation. Sometimes the stuckness even extends to an inability to imagine how the situation could be better! If it's easy to mull over hypothetical options in an abstract intellectual way, but impossible to choose one that seems best, that still counts.

The mental image I'm getting is of a student who can't solve the problem on the board, standing at the front of the class. Nobody sitting behind our student can tell if the problem is lack of comprehension, poor eyesight, fear of public performance, or a deep-seated horror of chalk (OK, OK, dry-erase markers). Maybe our stuck student just doesn't want to show off, or doesn't want to show someone else up, or hasn't had a meal in a while. It's unclear, but everyone involved is painfully aware there's a problem somewhere. The scene has burst out of its script, and nothing is flowing. Until something shifts, only an increasingly uncomfortable pause will be possible...