Process versus product.

I'm having a hard time enacting the "process versus product" mentality. I have fully embraced it philosophically, but I just can't seem to make it work for me.

Here's why:
1. I am a perfectionist, and perfectionists expect a perfect product to justify all of the effort expelled during the process of creating it.

2. I am impatient, and usually a process of any kind takes time and patience to enjoy. Generally, I just rush toward the finished product so I can begin the whole frenzied mess all over again.

3. I am obsessed with products of all kinds and what they do for me: beauty products, clothing, albums, movies, etc. Do I care about the process that L'Oreal engaged in to produce my face wash? No, not really. This, sadly, also applies to movies and other things I should care more about than my face wash. For instance, while Mike is usually just as excited about the "making of" feature on DVDs, I'm just...not. (The only exception here is books: I often write critical papers on the process an author went through to write/publish a book. But I don't enjoy the process of writing the paper AT ALL.)

So why am I thinking about this now? Well, I started painting again last week after a seven-year break, and I was having a pretty hard time getting started. By that I mean that I was indulging in a lot of "negative thought patterns"--exactly the sort of thing I'm supposed to be avoiding, according to my therapist. Every time I tried to paint, I remembered why I'd quit: it wasn't fun anymore. Instead, it became self-conscious and something I felt pressured to do well. Also, I had a crisis of representation: I was painting in sort of a quasi-realist/impressionistic mode, and I wanted to transition into a modernist mode, but I couldn't make that work for me. So I quit.

And I was on the verge of quitting again, until my therapist cornered me with his pesky logic and insight into my character. He reminded me that it was pretty telling that I couldn't even enjoy something that's supposed to be fun and relaxing; he also pointed out that I wasn't engaging in the process of painting at all (or the subject matter of the painting), but instead fixating on the final product. "And that's not saying that frustration isn't part of the process," he said. "But remember, the act of creating the painting is much more important than the painting itself."

He was right. And he was even more right when he told me that I need to start regarding my life that way as well. But now I have to figure out how to actually DO that.

At church today, Jeff talked about how, throughout the ages, individuals have constantly tried to find a way to rid themselves of the sins of the flesh and live the life of the spirit. He related the example of St. Francis, who, to eradicate lustful thoughts, made himself a "snow wife"--a snowwoman, basically--and then rolled around in the snow to cool himself down. Um, weird. Jeff then suggested that maybe if we start serving others as Jesus (and Paul) command us to, it may be the equivalent of nailing our fleshly impulses to the cross--a much more useful alternative than, you know, the snow wife.

It seems that my predicament is a similar one: I'm feeling so blinded to the answer to my question, that I'm tempted to fashion a bizarre St. Francis-like alternative to make myself at least feel as if I've found the answer, when I'm really just responding to flesh with flesh. But, truthfully, I know that figuring out how to enjoy the many processes of life will be ... a process. Damn.