I remember sitting in my pickup on an oil well location just east of Tatum, NM, watching an experienced pulling unit crew run 6,000’ of 2-7/8” tubing into a wellbore. It was an amazing thing to watch. At first glance the job was pretty boring, the same thing over and over: grab a joint of pipe off the racks and hoist in into the air with the elevators, slap some pipe dope on the threads while stabbing the new joint of tubing onto the previous joint, make up the threads with the power-tongs, let gravity pull it into the wellbore, grab another joint of tubing off the racks, and so on. The crew repeated this over and over with no changes for over two hours.
What I noticed that day was the ballet of movement and economy of motion underneath the boring repetition. The pulling unit hands could do this work without talking to each other, or even looking at each other. There was no wasted movement. There was no wasted energy. Every motion was the same, on time and predictable, no extra moves or wasted energy. When one man reached over for the pipe it was always there, having been steered into place by his coworker. It was obvious they’d done this very same job thousands of times. Time and repetition had grooved their movements down to the bare minimum.
I thought about this scene last Sunday morning when I opened the back door to my pickup, pulled out my black canvas trombone gig bag and swung it around onto my left shoulder, closed the door, locked the pickup, and then walked across Garfield Street toward the church for rehearsal with the praise band before playing in the 9:50 AM worship service. As I reached the far side of the street it occurred to me how effortless my movements had been, and that I’d done it all without thinking about it. (It was similar to that feeling we’ve all had while driving, when we realize we’ve been on mental auto-pilot and can’t remember if we actually stopped at that last stop sign.) I had pulled my trombone out and carried it across the street exactly this same way three or four times a week for almost 20 years and I could do it efficiently without thinking.
I love to listen to a master craftsman tell his story because I want to know about those economical movements he uses to create his masterpieces. Whether a writer or a musician or plumber or auto mechanic or elementary school teacher or preacher or farmer, they all have repetitive processes and actions that turn their work into art. As a result of their repetitive motions they know something about life the rest of us don’t know because we haven’t invested the same hours reducing unnecessary movement down to the bare essentials like they have. Craftsmen know the right tool to use, or the perfect analogy to make, or the best note to play, often without even thinking about it, because they’ve done it so often. I hope that when I watch them work and listen to them tell their story I will learn the things that are important to them, things which a casual observer like me might never notice without help. And I hope that somehow their knowledge will make me better at whatever I am doing.
I have been re-reading a book by world-class award-winning choreographer Twyla Tharp titled - The Creative Habit. She wrote: “After so many years, I’ve learned that being creative is a full-time job with its own daily patterns. That’s why writers, for example, like to establish routines for themselves … the real secret is that they do this every day … over time, as the daily routines become second nature, discipline morphs into habit. The routine is as much a part of the creative process as the lightning bolt of inspiration, maybe more.”
So in my life, I am continually in search of that economy of motion that will save time and energy. I am looking for the ballet underneath the repetition. I am looking for the routines and habits that will help me be more creative. I want to be that master craftsman who can create a work of art because I’ve put in the time to groove my talents. Twyla Tharp wrote, “Creativity is a habit, and the best creativity is a result of good work habits.” I have a lot to learn about that.
