Work like a craftsman
As I work more mindfully, I increasingly feel like a craftsman. Typically, we associate work with meetings, performance metrics, productivity, salaries, overwork, and managers. However, the more I focus on the present moment, the less these external definitions matter.
I now see myself as a professional knife sharpener, a watchmaker, or a chef who is wholly dedicated to their craft. Performance and productivity are external judgments, not reflections of my focused process. Overwork represents the expectations of my manager, not the relationship between me and my craft.
“Oh, I worked until 10 pm on Saturday?” In the past, this would make me feel miserable and frustrated. Now, I see it as more time to hone my craft. Work has become a flow of life.
Work as a flow
I still notice my self-judgments sometimes: I’m working slowly, I can’t finish on time, or I’m working weekends. Voices in my head still ask, “What if I can’t finish this on time?” and “What will my manager think?” But now, I recognize these thoughts, meditate on them, and return to the focused flow of my work.
For those who have done so consistently, despite pain and failure, life as a whole had a chance to become like an extended episode of flow: a focused, concentrated, internally coherent, logically ordered set of experiences, which, because of its inner order, was felt to be meaningful and enjoyable. — Flow
Nowadays, everything in my life feels like a flow. I eat with abundant mindfulness, savoring each bite dancing on my tongue. I code with intense concentration, focusing solely on the present moment, free from worries about past performance or future deadlines. I enjoy watching a Japanese clerk carefully shape rice in a bowl, and I meditate at the Nanzen-ji Temple in Kyoto, feeling the groundedness of its wooden floor. A voice inside me gently reassures me, “Don’t worry. You can be confident.”
Living in this state of flow is so enjoyable that it almost feels surreal. Being in flow doesn’t mean I’m free from worries and thoughts; rather, it means finding my place in any situation. When I rush to work, anxious about finishing my shower, breakfast, and catching the bus, I ask myself, “What would make you feel most comfortable now, Esther?” I no longer force myself to meet every desire. It feels like trusting the present, being in the flow of life, and tapping into an inner intelligence always within me.
I work weekdays and weekends without much pain of overworking. My visa status remains unstable, but the thought no longer bites. I see myself as a relatively mediocre engineer compared to the high standards around me (bc I’m in San Francisco), yet it doesn’t deter my progress. I’m in a flow — a flow of life events beyond my control, but I float on in my work like a boat in a river.
Work like a craftsman
I describe myself as a craftsman in coding not just because of the flow and focused state of mind I experience, but also due to the mental gymnastics involved in honing my craft.
Firstly, I practice handling the discomfort of being stuck with patience. Usually, when we encounter a prolonged block, we feel anxious and seek immediate resolution because we strongly resist the feeling of being stuck. However, the essence of being a good craftsman lies in patience. I learned to temporarily suspend the desire for quick closure and explore different approaches to make things work, even if it means taking a new route. Why?
In a quiet Japanese village, a young archer named Hiro sought to become the best but often missed his mark, leading him to the renowned Zen master Kenzan. When Hiro asked for the secret to perfect aim, Master Kenzan instructed him to shoot an arrow without trying to hit the target. Following the master’s advice, Hiro closed his eyes, focused on his stance and breath, and released the arrow, which hit the center of the target. The master explained that true mastery comes from letting go of the desire to hit the target and fully immersing oneself in the process, revealing that the essence of skill lies in the practice, not the outcome. — Zen in the Art of Archery
“Don’t try to hit the target” doesn’t mean giving up or not trying, but rather stopping resistance and cultivating awareness to shed bad habits and explore different routes.
Secondly, it’s about practicing detachment from my work. In the ambiguous environment of startups, my mind used to spin about work constantly, even on weekends, leaving me exhausted all the time. Letting go is a crucial skill for creating good craftsmanship. Constant high intensity strains everyone and everything, making us inflexible. Learning to detach helps maintain balance and fosters better creativity and resilience in my work.
In playing stringed instruments, as we go to a new tone, our hand can make the move cleanly only by letting go, a microsecond before, of the string it has pressed before. In the musical hand, for this reason, it is harder to produce a clear, soft sound than to belt out loud notes. Batting in cricket or baseball requires that same prowess in release. — The Craftsman
I’m currently practicing how to flow with ambiguity and maintain adequate detachment. Instead of worrying about having too much, I tell myself to let go once I feel I’ve done enough. If others disagree, they can let me know. In a messy work environment, where clear deadlines are rare, I’ve started proposing later dates (with a bit of humor) rather than blindly rushing to meet unrealistic timelines.
Previously, I felt at risk of damaging relationships or undermining my abilities by doing this. Now, I’m testing this new approach with the intention of restoring my energy and creating better work. My craft will thrive only when I find happiness, peace, and security, allowing me to focus wholeheartedly. I’m practicing. (Please remind me this when I’m stressed about work)
Finally, there’s the pursuit of quality to breed my own expression. I used to see overwork as unfair and felt burdened by it. But by viewing my work as a craft, I realize that the pursuit of correctness fosters true expression. Working in a startup demands speed, but I still dedicate the last 10% of my time to refining my work. Imagine building a new park for your neighborhood: you can ignore the surrounding buildings and residents, but a good design takes time to observe and harmonize with the environment.
This is similar to my work. There’s always a simpler and more elegant way to build on existing efforts. I strive to create beauty, simplicity, and quality in everything I do.
I’m not working; I’m crafting. I flow through the process with patience and a pursuit of quality, letting go of expectations. I’ve realized I’m not on the path to becoming a good employee, but making of a true craftsman.
