Curious

I used to be embarrassed of my flakiness- the fleeting, but overpowering excitement I felt for ideas, aspirations, plans, and projects. I was ashamed that I don't always keep up with the changes and the hopes. I try things on for a while, spend countless hours daydreaming and researching and imagining. But then, I move on. Something new sparks my interest and gains my attention, leaving my past plans and projects in dusty corners of my memory and home. I frequently revisit them, show brief enthusiasm again before racing forward in another direction yet again.

Over the years my friends and family have been subjected to an endless barrage of my new next thing: plans for orphanages, restaurants, island life, farm life, adoption, raw foods, fermented foods, local foods, backyard chickens, renovations, photography, poetry, weaving, hobbies, businesses, trips, events, educational programs.

This is not the behavior of a successful artist, entrepreneur, or activist. To become good at something, to make money from it, or to inspire change, you have to stick with it. But I can't. Or rather, I don't.

But I am not as embarrassed by this trait anymore. At some point this fall, I heard Elizabeth Gilbert address the difference between passion and curiosity. The problem is, I'm more curious than I am passionate. I get excited about things and want to explore them, but nothing has ever rooted itself so deeply within me that I haven't shaken it off when a new prospect came my way. My life is not guided by some beautiful, encompassing passion.

There are so many things that I wish I had done. So many things that I still hope that I do. But I am no longer embarrassed by the things I haven't completed, the changes I haven't stuck to. I am always my happiest when I am planning and scheming and dreaming about what is to come. So I will continue to pursue my curiosity. I will continue to subject my family to my flights of fancy, and I will be all the happier for it.

Edit: So apparently I had almost the exact same set of thoughts exactly a year ago: The Price of Contentment

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