2024/05/04: In Defense of Fickleness

Despite my best efforts, I can't stick with any hobby for more than a few months. Martial arts, sewing, rock climbing, guitar: I eagerly scramble up the first few hurdles of knowledge. The world ahead is vast and promising. Yet inevitably, I grow accustomed to my surroundings atop the bunny hill. It's not that my curiosity begins to dull, but the prospect of picking up where I left off suddenly fills me with a vague dread.

Maybe I reach a point where I stop challenging myself -- maybe once I begin to brush "almost competent" I lose sight of the next goal and plateau, aimless.

Maybe I just have to accept that honing a single craft isn't for me. By nature, I am a creature hard-wired for variety. Instead of white-knuckling my fleeting interests as the grains of sand fall through my fingers, I can relax my grip and accept that they will wash in and out of the shore with time. The easier I let things go, the easier they will come back another day.

Sooner or later, something will stick; that, or I'll have learned so many different skills it won't even matter.