



(coherence): "Nothing on earth is more gentle and yielding
than water, yet nothing is stronger.
When it confronts a wall of stone, gentleness overcomes hardness; the
power of water prevails" (verse 78).
We’ve often heard sports announcers
talking about how an athlete can be "in the zone," a phrase that
reflects the athlete’s complete absorption in an activity. The intensity of Lance Armstrong in the Tour
de France, or of Mia Hamm in the World Cup of soccer, or Brett Favre in the NFL
playoffs is a palpable realization of this zone, of the flow of intensity and
creativity. Musicians too often seem to
be in something of a trance as they play.
We see it in the jazz saxophonist’s contortions, the rock guitarist’s
face, and the violinist’s rapture. In her book, Writing in Flow, Susan Perry explores this phenomenon we call a
state of flow. It seems, some people are
blessed with a natural tendency to shift into flow almost at will, while some
have never felt the stopping of time that characterizes the experience, while
some few others live in an almost perpetual state of flow. Artists and craftspeople seem to agree that
flow is essential to creativity and productivity. They often describe it as a trance-like
experience where they begin working – painting, playing music, carving,
building, and such – and they emerge an hour or many hours later with a sense
that they have been submerged in some way.
Susan Perry writes, “Your sense of self is altered during flow . . . as
if you’ve been participating in some bizarre ritual, as though your body’s been
taken over by ‘something.’” Pretty
strange stuff, almost mystical, certainly mysterious. Writing offers that place, that trance-like
zone where it seems second nature to improvise and create, and where ideas and
text blend in a flowing, ongoing stream.