It’s been crickets on my blog: here’s why.
I recently finished reading Elizabeth Gilbert’s book Big Magic Creative Living Beyond Fear. These days, she is making her way around social media with her talks, which are extended versions of the chapters of her lovely book.
The other day, I listened to her talk “Flight of the Hummingbird: The Curiosity Driven Life” where she talks about living a passion-driven life vs. a curiosity-driven life.
All my life, I have been trying to live a passion-driven life. When I was younger, I was more successful at it. Probably because that was before I had kids and had to make a living at a job.
As time went by, I found that I had many interests. I would do one thing for a while and then move on to the next. But I kept comparing myself to the few people I knew that had that one thing they did fully. That one thing they threw themselves into. Even if they sucked at it or didn’t make any money at it–they had a passion.
I didn’t have that one thing that did it for me anymore.
And it always made me feel unfocused and a bit attention-deficit-disordered. It made me feel unsuccessful to be “good” at doing a bunch of things instead of being incredibly super-talented and focused on that one thing that made millions of dollars.
The reason it’s been quiet here is because I gave myself permission to do anything I have been curious about. And this was even before I listened to Elizabeth Gilbert’s talk.
I took up weaving. I remember that I totally loved weaving in high school. So I bought a rigid heddle loom and have been practicing that using my handspun yarns. I’ve also been practicing spinning yarns in different ways. I’m playing taking pictures with my old iPhone and adapting those photos using various apps. I still enjoy cooking very much.
I’m thinking about sewing again.
I didn’t feel like writing about it–so I didn’t.
I let myself do those things (or not do those things) without an outcome or a dollar sign attached to it.
But always in the back of my head, I felt that it was odd or wrong to flit from one thing to the next. That somehow I had to arrive at one thing.
What if I gave myself permission to take the time for the next 40 years to do things that spark interest in me and simply see what happens?
I wonder what would happen if I would just let go of the outcome? I wonder if it would be even better than what I think it should be.