IAMT #17: Clip My Wings
if i don't run, i will never fall behind
In my 25 years of being alive, I’m deeply privileged that I can confidently say that last year was nearly all my own. I’ve long since dreamt of spending all my time doing whatever “productive” hobby pre-occupied my mind at the time. The years since I’ve had this motivation have been full of school and work, usually running in parallel.
This past year, the stars aligned, and I’ve been entertaining myself with most any hobby that crossed my mind, swapping relentlessly. Pottery, varying shades of art, singing, traveling, writing, etc. I tried to learn from others when possible and be courageous. A quote that I’d recite to myself during this time goes like so:
“Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage.” - Anais Nin
Albeit, I’m still working on that too. But functionally, I had overcome my time restrictions, cost restrictions (within reason), and most anxieties preventing me from pursuing a hobby.
The final piece is ensuring my motivation isn’t bottlenecked, as my belief is that diligence trumps passion when it comes to maintaining a hobby. The level of dedication I have ebbs and flows throughout the lifecycle of a hobby, and I’ve found myself attuned to a consistent schedule.
Starting out on a hobby is exhilarating, and those first few weeks are the absolute sweetest. Progress isn’t the primary focus while I’m building up new experiences, and because I would have no basis for quality, there’s often little concept of self-doubt.
After this honeymoon phase ends, I’d feel a pressure building, since further developing mastery is oftentimes the end goal. I cross the Dunning-Kruger peak in terms of knowledge, and my expectations for what can be considered “satisfactory” are established.
Finally, stagnation is inevitable within the process of learning any skill. As the rate of my progress slows and the interest wanes, the intrusive thoughts settle in. With the time I have, why not try something else?
Recently, I’ve been pondering if I had continued to swap hobbies in hopes that I’d find some art form I was extraordinary at. It makes sense based on my cyclical habits; to keep my motivational engines roaring, my talent would need to accelerate me faster than my expectations could mount. But now over a year into it, I’ve found myself to be, at best, dead average at everything I’ve laid my hands on thus far.
This isn’t a bad thing, per se, since I’ve ultimately been gifted with the time to burn. But once I’ve passed that “the peak”, it’s easy to realistically see how mind-numbingly long it’d take me to get somewhere at the rate I’m going. Other discouraging facts are brought to light, such as how those younger than me have far surpassed where I want to be.
Granted, I have no stakes in any of this. By reaching heights in any one of these hobbies, I likely still wouldn’t abandon my day job unless the conditions changed drastically.
All this to say, it’s often hard to imagine how my life would be any different if I were to succumb to my vices instead of placing that time to whatever this “self-growth” is.
“Clip My Wings” is the name of a song I named this post after. Here’s part of the chorus:
It’s easier, easier to close my eyes
Pretend that I’m soaring through the open skies
If I don’t run, I will never fall behind
So douse the flames and let me stay blind
The lyrics tell a story of someone shielding themselves from self-disappointment, suppressing any passions they have; it’s easier to fantasize about your endless potential atop the Dunning-Kruger peak instead of enduring the agonizing failure that comes with progress.
My interpretation of the song feels like a commiseration of this nasty feeling that you’re bound to experience. To put expectations on yourself is to grow, and to grow, you’ll surely face self-doubt. The desire to run away and give up all expectations of yourself stem from the temporary mental respite that comes with it.
I’ll start to have a peculiar experience a few months after getting deeply into a hobby while nearing the stagnation phase.
When I was at an intimate local restaurant while visiting Japan, the chef’s assistant brought over a tray, revealing about a dozen small teacups that we were allowed to individually choose. Throughout the meal, I’d find myself fidgeting with the cup, not wanting to put it down. I’d repeatedly run my thumb along the maker's mark. At some point, the chef notices me appraising the piece and explains to us the artist behind it - the honor he had to use their pots in his restaurant.
The thought of the chef maintaining a relationship with a craftsman across the country and holding such a reverence for their handmade work was inspiring. I imagined what kind of glazes they used, the story behind their maker’s mark, what kind of clay was fired for the unglazed portions to feel texturally like basalt, yet a third of the weight.
Moments similar to this have been my most treasured this past year. There are plenty of amazing people out there, relentlessly pushing the bill for what’s possible in their respective passions. Lately, I’ll reassure myself that with my increasing expectations of myself are tied to additional context I learn. Context to better empathize with how and why dedicated people etch out their own microcosms in a world of endless things to do and see. The ability to re-examine mundane parts of everyday life in a different hue; even if I give up before reaching high mastery, I’ll have that.
Thanks for reading. More on my latest hobby next.
- chris
EN: I’ve been sitting on this entry since early Feb. when I was having a meltdown. Reeling in disappointment seems to be a core part of the process for me. It’s been a chore trying to verbalize this first-world problem while trying my best to not come off like a spoiled fool. Excited to share what’s been making my world bigger lately.