I’m suffering from writer’s block. And here’s why. I decided that I should begin my blog by writing about someone I know the most about …. me. And the trouble with me is that I don’t have an interest in anything. I have an all encompassing interest in everything. So unlike the wonderful young woman I met recently who does saliva research (it’s science, it’s cool, it’s the future, and it’s a future post because she is awesome), I am known for my collection of unfinished projects. My head is spinning with thousands more. The motto, you can do anything, is my driver. The caveat, but you can’t do everything, is a pessimist’s rain on my parade. Sure I can do everything. Now. OK, not now. Later. After I stop feeling overwhelmed by the technicolor world of possibilities.
But as I think about it further, I realize that much of this desire to do and try everything stems from something very deep inside me. A primal urge to collect. To acquire. To discover newness. The beauty of something heretofore untried, unexamined, unexperienced, unthought about. And besides, there are so many interesting things in the world. How does one choose? And if I focus on one, what about all the other cool things?
So I have unfinished blog posts. Poems partially started. A bag of gravel to sift through for sapphires (or perhaps I left those behind when I moved). Photos that need organizing. A huge tote full of beautiful beads that will someday be bracelets and hey, there’s an article on how to do bead flowers…hmmm. A box full of recipes to try. Look a beautiful rock, I will add it to my rock collection. Maybe not; tiny apartment. I’ll take a picture. Add it to my picture collection. What an amazing moment on the beach there experiencing it with my dear friend. That one goes into my collection of happy memories. So. Much. Out. There. And it’s all amazing and fascinating.
Sure I can focus on something. I just spent five hours working on genealogy. And I’ll get back to it again and spend more time on it. But it’s not going to be my life work. And books. I read. And read and read. That’s one thing I can focus on. And read a series of books in a week because I have to. So perhaps that need that I have to read, to know, to pull out every bit of information and story is the closest I’ll ever be to that all encompassing passion people have for their whatever.
But how do people focus? What allows a person to focus so well that they devote their life to a goal? How do they muster the discipline and commitment to something that allows them to discard all other distractions. An Olympic caliber gymnast for instance? From a young age these amazing athletes spend hours every day perfecting their sport, avoiding distractions to focus on their one goal, to be the best at what they do. How do they do it? What makes them different? Why do they do it?
And the people who purport to have no hobbies or interests. Why not? What’s blocked them from their inner voices? Why do they hide the thing inside that makes the secret smile appear in their voice?
So what kind of a person are you? What drives you? Are you a generalist or a specialist? Do you reach your goals and then climb even higher? Or are you surrounded by somedays? Or do you have a tiny ember deep in your soul that needs a bit of kindling? Email me at firstname.lastname@example.org and tell me your story.
I am utterly enthralled by these ideas. And I mean to find out. Stay tuned.