Pen to Paper

Watching Youth in Revolt tonight, I had a thought. You know how whenever you see police putting someone in the back of a squad car on TV or in movies, they guide the back of the suspects head so that they don’t hit it on the door? That way they can’t be accused of brutality or negligence or whatever.

I got to thinking that if I’m ever being put in the back of a car, and I have enough presence of mind, I should go ahead and head-butt the roof of the car. Just for spite.

I’ve been thinking about the relationship between faith and doubt lately. And what it means to know something as opposed to believing it has a high probability.

These things seem like opposites. And yet I can’t help but think that you can’t have faith without having doubt first.

Without doubt, you just have acceptance of what you perceive as facts. It’s like believing the ground is there because you can see it. Unless you consciously think there’s a good chance you’re hallucinating or mistaken, there’s no faith in that. Just acceptance.

Only by first doubting the floor’s existence can you choose to put faith in it, to act in faith.

That’s what I’ve been thinking lately, anyway.

When you think about it, most of the tactics we subconsciously use to deal with stress aren’t that great. They tend to be internal – they’ll reduce the stress level temporarily, but don’t do much to change the circumstances causing stress.

So after a few days of feeling unproductive and overwhelmed, I made a list of all the projects/goals I’ve got going in one stage or another right now, which means they’re all spinning around in some part of my mind at the same time. Seeing it all on paper (well, dry erase board) was a bit shocking. I hadn’t realized I’d committed myself to so much, even if the commitment was only to myself.

But.

Writing it all down was a start. Now I can take a more systematic, methodical approach. Now I don’t have to be thinking “I should be working on this and this and this and this,” because it’s out of my head. I can just look at the paper and see what needs to be done.

And yes, writing here is one of the things on the list. I haven’t been here as much as I should the past few weeks, and (one) goal is to change that.

Today’s wordcount: 1,016 on WIP

Went out to lunch with a friend today.  It was a really good experience, but has left me feeling kind of mixed up inside the rest of the day.  He pointed out a couple areas in my life where I’m dropping the ball (which is good, but never fun).  Here’s the thing that I’m having trouble processing – while I agree with him 100% on the principle of what we discussed (basically that I lack a sense of urgency, and I need one), I disagree on the exact steps he seemed to want me to take in response to the conversation.

So I guess I’m afraid that despite the fact that I am trying to grow in my focus and urgency, if I don’t take those exact steps he’ll think I’m just sitting on my hands doing nothing.

And, knowing the way my mind works, it’s probably all in my head.

But yeah, my insides were going “GAR!” all afternoon (for about an hour, though, that was because I tried to run on too full of a stomach).  This evening, reading and writing and watching a sermon helped me calm down (plus writing! yay!).  Hopefully more so tomorrow.

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.