I intended only to take a short break from blogging, sculpting, and playing the Feelings Collector, but it turns out I really needed the distance, so I took more of it. I found myself in a place where I was losing enthusiasm for most of my pursuits, which happens from time to time. I’m glad I noticed what was happening and acted on it.
But, after resting, it took a bit more effort to get back in the saddle than I had thought it would. Part of my lack of interest in spending my evenings fully engaged in one thing or another was that I began to exert myself more during the workday and it left me more drained than I had anticipated. Either way, I spent quite a few evenings careening from one thing to another, not able to focus for more than ten or fifteen minutes at a time. After a week of such evenings, I began to panic. Eventually, I remembered that browsing Julia Cameron’s books helped me out in similar situations earlier in the year and set myself down to read.
With Julia’s help, I realized that I was coming up against old creative blocks: resistance, fear, perfectionism, and their fellow travelers. A passage on dilettantism in “The Sound of Paper” clued me into the source of my current trouble.
Over the course of my life I have become wildly enthusiastic about many things, only to lose interest shortly thereafter. I suppose that’s normal enough, something we all experience to some degree. And perhaps I’m not especially unusual in my rapid picking up and putting down of hobbies and interests. And maybe it wouldn’t be such a problem if I didn’t make it into one for myself. The trouble is that when I notice that I have lost interest in something I become distressed and overly self-critical. I get into a loop where my self-talk revolves around regrets (“Why did you ever give that up? You should have just stuck with it, you’d probably be pretty good at it by now if you’d kept at it!), worries (“You’re never going to find something that you care about so much that you’ll never give it up! You’ll never master anything!”), and shaming (“You’re just a dilettante!”). In short, I get wrapped up in results and outcomes and lose sight of the process.
But dilettantism need not be such a bad thing. The dilettante gets a bad rap in our society, fairly or unfairly. The term evokes a pejorative questioning of someone’s seriousness or qualifications. and suggests a certain frivolity, or a lack of rigor. We see the dilettante as a dabbler, and little more. Julia instead sees the dilettante as someone who strays or swerves from one enthusiasm to another. In her view, the dilettante has a special power and role, as at their best, they feel free to follow their own guide, rather than trends. The dilettante freely pursues their muse, which is often no more or less than that which amuses them. Julia recasts Picasso as the preeminent dilettante, someone whose movement through phases, periods, and moods amounted to a continuous self-reinvention worthy of respect and emulation (whatever you might think of the man himself).
This reframing helped me to see that it is pointless to cudgel myself for flitting from passion to passion. There is no shame in following inspiration where it leads or in leaving things aside when they no longer readily draw your attention. Indeed, dilettantes have at least two major strengths: a beginner’s mindset and lessons learned from rapid trial-and-error in many domains. This means that a dilettante can get the hang of something in a short period of time and readily generate novel ideas, concepts, and perspectives in a new domain. The trick is to not become discouraged when the limit is reached. There does come a point beyond which, however, where improvement or advancement in a pursuit requires exponentially more time and energy. And it’s okay to say “fuck it” if that’s not what you want to do. It’s fine to move on to the next thing! The bigger problem would to get stuck, beat yourself up, and not search for something new to learn.
All that to say: I still don’t really feel like sculpting and haven’t even touched my tools in about a month. But, I did sketch for a while the other night and actually sit and listen to an entire album from start to finish, which I enjoyed thoroughly. Then, I sat down to write, and felt connected to my inner guide again. The foregoing was the result of that sitting, and set me back off on the path.
I’ll get back to writing up my notes on the creative process and enhancing creativity soon. Or maybe I’ll just spend some time with them and that will be enough. That’s a bridge I cross when I’ll get there. Either way, I plan to get back in the habit of posting at least once a week, one way or another.