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

SHARE THIS | TWEET THIS

Why Be Inspired

Like my mother, there's a part of me that wants to be an artist. I want to create. I want to be creative. But I have no medium, nothing that I go back to over and over again, perfect and refine.
I love the idea of inspiration, of looking at the world through the lens of searching and finding.
But what am I searching for? What do I hope to find?
I'm coming to realize that all I actually want to create is happiness, and, even more, I want to give it.

When I'm looking at beautiful homes or perfectly styled parties, what I want isn't the things; it's the feeling. It's the idea that I have done something and that it has created a moment. And that moment is good because it brings me joy because I created it and, hopefully, brings joy because I gave it.

I want happy spaces and events. I want clothing that makes me feel good about me. I want food that is beautiful and nourishing.

I am realizing that a search for beauty is really my search for happiness. That's where all my roads lead.
I come by happiness easily, mostly.
But I work at it.
It's important to me.

I wish I could come to terms with my only art form, accept that what I do is enough. That I can look for inspiration and it is not in vain or without purpose. I don't have to be in a creative field. I don't have to be a stylist or a designer or an event planner to appreciate what they do, to take their cues and apply them in small ways. And I hope that I can cultivate my creative aspirations without feeling frustrated, disappointed, or jealous that they aren't bigger or more prominent in my life.

SHARE THIS | TWEET THIS