Daring Mondays: Back to Basics

I’m a very lucky woman, I’ve got two small rooms (connected to each other, but with doors to separate them from the rest of the house) that belong exclusively to me. I use one as an art room and one as an “office” (that is to say, I sit in it when I’m working and I keep my books there) – this is also where my “altar” is, where I pray and play too. I know not everyone is lucky enough to have a little space that belongs to them, not to mention two whole rooms. The thing is, I really need those rooms. They are just packed with all kinds of things: scrapbooking supplies, pencil crayons, watercolour paraphernalia and some acrylic stuff too, art books, some stamping stuff and cross stitch too – not to mention my boxes and boxes of comic books.

The thing is, I like to try new things. I love to dabble and play and try something I’ve never tried before. I keep the things because I tend to go in phases; I’ll not touch cross stitching for years and suddenly be obsessed with a project. The variety keeps me fresh and inspires other kinds of creativity, it keeps me from getting blocked.

Wakizashi, on the other hand, is not like me. Don’t get me wrong, he does have his things, but they are mostly collections. He doesn’t feel the need to diversify his interests. He finds two or three things he loves and immerses himself in them for years and years at a time. It baffles me, but he seems happy so who am I to criticize?

For years (something like eight of them) he’s had no real interests except martial arts. He’s steadily worked and earned a black belt in karate, collected swords and tea pots, and read the magazines and books. Then in the course of the last year he’s discovered two new passions: running and investing.

These hobbies haven’t been as steady and stable as his progress in martial arts was. He’s had stops and starts, doubts and frustrations – and yet loved them enough to want to keep going. Watching him struggle to overcome his doubts and fears in these areas has been a great teacher for me. (Have you ever noticed how lessons can seem so obvious when other people struggle, but not so much for you.)

I noticed that he started out into investing or running because something inspired him. In the beginning he was new to the ideas and thoughts and he was mostly inspired by the core of the thing; as he first began to read and expand his knowledge he was objective. He’d talk to me about what made sense and what didn’t, and about what seemed so obvious to him looking in. He’d natter on to me about his own ideas and ideals for the passion at hand.

And then, inevitably he’d decide he needed to know more and would immerse himself into the culture and information available to him. And this is where everything started to go wrong. He stopped running for the sheer love of it and started to worry about having the “proper form.” He stopped thinking about his investing like a fun game and started measuring every win against every loss (and the losses seem to have more weight) – no matter how minor.

It seems so obvious to me, watching him, that the real problem is that he’s lost touch with his initial inspiration. In the beginning he had, what I call personal rules, for himself about why and how he was going to engage in any of his interests. The more he read about what everyone else was doing and saying and what “should be” or how it was “supposed to be done” the more disconnected he became from that first passion. Frankly, things stopped being so fun and started requiring standards.

Do you know what I’m talking about?

So many of us fade away from our hobbies, our work, and our passions because, like Wakizashi, we lose track of why we started doing the thing in the first place. We started out drawing because it was passionately fun, and eventually we end up equating it with work, or worrying too much about whether what we draw is “good enough.” Should, supposed to, and good enough will strangle your soul, slowly but surely.

My solution for Wakizashi was simple: Get Back to Basics.

Why are you doing this? No, no, not why are you doing it now, but why did you first start doing it? What are you trying to accomplish? What did you love about it? What inspired you to look at it in the first place? How will you know you are doing it right for you (ignore everyone else’s standards, all that matters is yours)? What were your ideas or ideals in the beginning? What made it fun? What were your personal conclusions or rules about your interest when you were new and fresh to it? Have you strayed from them?

For Wakizashi this meant buying some Vibram Five Fingers so he could run barefoot, switching to primarily trail runs, throwing out the fake “food” runners use, and running whenever he felt like it rather than on a schedule. Now, running is a joy again! Sometimes we need to give ourselves permission for joy.

And sometimes all we really need is a set a pruning sheers so we can start cutting away all the crappy thoughts and ideas that have grown up over the core of our Thing. (Once we find that core again, it’s a good idea to write these things down, just in case those old ideas and worries start to ensnare us again.) Later this week I’ll be posting my project for recording the core of what I’m doing; in the meantime, why don’t you let yourself examine those things that used to bring you joy and get back to the core of them with me!

What’s your “Thing” that needs to be brought to basics? Is it a hobby or passion? Your work or business? Your marriage or relationship? Why did you begin it in the first place? What’s happened to it now? What’s changed? Can you strip it back and rediscover the joy in it? What do you think about Wakizashi’s predicament? My solution? Can’t wait to hear from you, and I hope this Dare helps you reconnect to a passion this week!