Trying New Things in a World of Specialization
Specialization is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, specializing in an obscure but necessary field is a pretty sure-fire way to get a big salary. Look at successful programmers, doctors, or scientists. It seems like most “leaders in their field” reached that point by doing one thing and doing it well.
On the other hand, this sort of specialization comes with a relative loss. Unlike the scientists in prime-time television, in real life most top level scientists are single-subject experts. The expert aerospace physicist doesn’t design his own rocket fuel, the chemistry expert does. An archeologist specializing in Judeo-Christian religious iconography doesn’t translate lost Mayan tablets (sorry, Indy).
At the top level, this isn’t that big of a deal. After all, the physicist doesn’t need to design rocket fuel when he can hire a rocket fuel expert to do it better. Itzhak Perlman doesn’t play every instrument at once, he plays his violin while Yo-Yo Ma plays his cello, and the result is magnificent. But this way of thinking has permeated society to such a degree that we let it keep us from activities we are perfectly capable of doing.
How many times have you heard (or said) something like this: “I don’t play basketball, I’m a runner.” “I don’t sing, Pam’s the musician of the family.” “I’m a writer, not an artist.” Even “She cooks, and I do the dishes,” is a symptom of low-level specialization. And before you think I’m trying to imply I’m above all this, those examples (or something very close) are all things I’ve said myself.
When we’re children, we don’t think this way. It’s perfectly reasonable for a child to plan on being a basketball playing-doctor-soldier-policeman who fights aliens and explores ancient temples. And, while it may not be reasonable for an adult to think they can be paid to do all that, I do think we can diversify more than we normally do.
Last night, I spent a while drawing. Were the results greatness, bound for gallery walls? Nope. Was it as good as something my old roommate, an art teacher, could dash out in 15 minutes? Not even close. But was I happy with the results? Given my expectations for myself, I’d go so far as to say I was surprised by how good it was.
I was even more surprised by how much fun I had in the process. For so long I’ve fallen into the trap of thinking, “I’m a writer, not an artist. I don’t even want to be an artist. Leave that to the artsy-types.” When I stopped comparing myself to artists who’ve been drawing for most of their lives and are professionals, I was able to enjoy making my own scratchings – and I’m planning on coming back to the drawing pad again.
I’d encourage you to try something new this week. Maybe that means making something in the kitchen, or picking up a guitar or harmonica, or sitting down at a piano, or doodling on the back of a grocery list, or taking a few pictures. Whatever you do, don’t compare the results to someone years of experience, or a freakish amount of God-given talent. That’ll just discourage you. Instead, judge the results by a much more subjective standard: “Did I have fun?”
If the answer’s yes, maybe you’ll decide to de-specialize, just a little.