in: the jill of all trades
out: the expert
At the young age of ten, I had identified the key to my future success and happiness. I only had to pick a single life’s work and fully commit myself to it. My devotion would be a given. In time, I would grow in both expertise and reputation. I would be a dedicated ________________ (fill in blank here) and I would win at this game of life.
I hadn’t really devoted myself to anything as of yet, I was a free agent, happily buzzing from one craft to another. My tabula rasa was ready and waiting. I recall visiting a garage sale where I spotted a used flute, resting enticingly in the dark velvet lining of the case. A thought sparked in my mind: it could be this, this could be my one thing! Shall I? Watching the Olympics when I was 12, I figured that if I really dedicated myself, I could perhaps compete in the ’92 games — sport to be determined.
This unwavering and remarkably intense desire to become a virtuoso stayed with me for the next 40 years. I still have this desire, I haven’t yet been able to rid myself of it. Am I a mere pawn who has internalized the cultural expectation of expertise? Yes, of course I am, but I think there is something else here as well. Whether it be a dancer, a musician, or an artist, their devotion and mastery creates something synergistically out of this world. A beauty that captivates. And I am the one held captive.
The flute at that garage sale emanated energy. I felt electric in its presence. I saw my future self, as an expert, radiating that same energy. It was less about what the world might think of me as a flutist, and more about me and this flute and our blissful future together. If I were to attempt to identify a dopamine kick, it would be the feeling I had staring at that flute. Did you too hear the angels singing? Now I am thrifty by nature, and I believe it was the price tag that dissuaded me from this potential lifelong euphoria. Apparently 30 bucks was a wee too high for securing my future happiness and success.
What has eternally puzzled me is the contrast between the steadfast nature of this desire of mine, and the subsequent results whenever I choose a field of expertise. I lose interest about as quickly as one might pass a hot potato. This pattern, starting at 10, began to repeat itself over and over again. From musical instruments to artistic pursuits, university degrees to career paths. The discovery, the hope, the reality, the inevitable fall. The extreme discomfort I felt in the working world, was that I was asked to do 8 hours of something that I was interested in doing for 20 minutes. There was a certain misery that arose from this deep boredom. I felt my life force draining from me.
Over the years living with my husband and daughter, I have seen how their body and mind move toward their one pursuit, steadily, consistently. Once they settle into working, they have this staying power, they can work on one thing for hours. There is a gravitational force pulling them toward their interest. A meal becomes a nuisance (the shock, the horror!). This is not about them trying harder, this is an innate difference. No matter how much I adore my chosen hobby of the season, in under an hour, I’m satiated and ready for something else. I am not simply a failed expert, I’m a dilettante! I am ready to turn over a new leaf and honor my 20 minute attention span.
As a homemaker, I generally go about the day in an upbeat mood, switching from one task to another, moving through the list, quite content. Note how similar this sounds to my description of me buzzing about at age 10. There is beauty to be found in all of this dabbling. A plenitude of what I love — macramé, sewing, making, playing guitar, gardening, writing and reading. My expertise should be measured by the breadth of my skill set. Skills that perfectly prepare me for self-sufficient radical homemaking!