In July, I met a woman. It seemed to be one of those delusional love flings where two people meet and fall passionately and deludedly for one another, and then as quickly as they came into each others lives, then the relationship would abruptly end and both would move on as if nothing had happened. Fair enough
Since september 2022 – after publishing my book- I have been studying Coding. I’d reached a point in the road where I’d had enough of not making any money through my writing. It was time to learn a skill that could earn me some money so I could finally be financially independent, so I could finally be free.
As I learned to code, and input logic into my brain, I also observed a strange phenomenon. I’ve always been somewhat interested in the aesthetic, and I’ve always taken great pride in the spontenaity and artistic expression of my hand-writing. Though, as I learned to code, my thought process became ebby, and so did my writing flow. Rather than flowing – as my thoughts would usually be- my thought process had become clumsy and unclear.
I always took great pride in my ideation. Little bursts of brilliance, sprouting grandiosely there in my cerebrum. Like popcorn flowers, poping and blooming after a spring rain.
The lifestyle of a writer, seems to encompass his mind from wake til rest. It tends to take over his entire focus, while walking, while cycling. His ideas tend to be the high part of his day, and his research incorporated in his being. And with every breathing moment, a new idea is another fantastic insight offered off of the tree of his routine.
But although all of this, as fantastic as it may be, the impending sentiment of riding out a never ending prison sentence until one ‘makes it’ and gets to sell his million copies thus delivering a proverbial get-out-of-jail-card. It looms like a heavy cloud on one’s sense of personal freedom. Especially in an era where our social lives tend to be cut short, and we’re somewhat forced to observe while the rest of the world lives a wild and adventurous life of wonder and abundance.
I know, I know… don’t compare, as comparison is the thief of all joy. Perhaps this is true. But on the otherside, I also find that living solely in the world of ideas is etherial and lacks the physical substance a man needs to feel alive. I don’t consider myself to be capable to let go of relationships on a Buddhist level and become fully monk-like.
I don’t believe that one has to be a starving arstist, especially in a day and age where content is king. Solely, I’m not sure how to make my writing interesting for others, or how to live off it.
And so began my journey to become a full stack web developer. I find it thrilling on one hand, because the ability to use technology to automate and build is interesting. Especially for someone like me who, as a kid enjoyed the thrills of Robot wars, lego and mechano. Coding is essentially the equivalent for adults with basic math skills.
At first, and with discipline, I set out boldly to learn how to create a website, an app, an learn the languages. Then I realised that my handwriting started to change, but I gathered that if I was going to become a developer and put money on the table, some things didn’t really matter as much.
I kept reading on the side, and enjoyed posting a weekly newsletter, I found that having balance seemed to be key to keeping ideas flowing through my mind. I spent my days learning about code, my evenings reading, and my weekends writing. This went well for a while, up until my father passed away. Then, I got out of the habit of writing and reading. I simply found it hard to maintain any form of habit to be honest.
A few months later, and after having reached a point of mental stagnation in my code learning, I started to doubt my ability to think in code, or code spontaneously. And although I can put code together like a rudimentary ape puts cube shapes through a toy frame, I felt the need to take a break. And… that’s when I met the woman.
I say this because, at some point near the end of our relationship, I shared my writing and my art, and my mission to succeed as a developer. To which she replied, that my writing is a gift.
Now, this is something I find frustrating. The notion that, because I have a gift, it should take a form of dominence over everything in my life and should dictate what I need to do and what I can’t do. As if the idea of having a gift in writing should prevent me from working as a developer.
In China, there is such a thing as a ‘Zhuazhou’. The Zhuazhou is essentially a form of birthday party focussed around the kid making a choice which will determine its destiny. Among the objects the child will choose between a pen, a paintbrush, a wad of cash, and other such iconic objects which will determine the childs path. Of course, this seems wildly fatalistic. In the book ‘Range‘ by David Epstein, the author talks about a train of thought in which superstars -such as Tigerwoods and other high performers- pick a sport, adapt quickly and then spend the rest of their lives with an advantage over the rest of the world.
What I find difficult to accept with the Zhuazhou ou the early adoption path is that the notion of free will doesn’t seem to enter the picture. For me, I like to toy with the idea of ‘Divergence‘. That our destiny is not set in stone and that we should be able to choose and shift towards what we believe -as conscious adults- is best suited for us.
One side tends to lean towards the idea that ‘the universe’ or ‘God’ has a plan for us, and that we will somehow be guided towards a dream outcome, while the other seems to believe that we create our own luck and outcomes through preparation and hard-work.
So, what does this mean?
On the one hand, if there is some intangible entity which has gifted us with a talent or gift and that gift is to serve us to reach our fullest potential to serve others, shouldn’t it be revealed and clear what path we should take? And on the other, if its simply a question of preparation and hard-work, how come we reach a point of mental stagnation?
Here, I see the fight between Heart and Mind. What we like, and is flowing, and what we know is best, and is enacted through disciplined action. Perhaps there is a perfect balance.
Do what is hard when life is easy, so that when life is hard life will be easy.
I believe the answer lies somewhere between the logical and safe approach to life, getting a diploma and studying well, getting a good job we’re good at and applying our skills. And on the other, doing what enlightens us, doing what brings us energy, having the courage to live in our zone of risk. When we get out of our comfort zone, we are forced to sink or swim. There is something quite energising about the immediacy of having to thrive to survive. It is as if, we become alive with alertness. And if we don’t produce the results, then we sink, so we have to make it work.
When the individual finds his zone of genius, and becomes good at it, there will come a fork in the road where he will be forced to make a decision. To take a leap of faith or to continue to live safely while always wondering what if.
I guess it all comes down to our risk tolerance and ability to embrace failure and the possibility of not succeeding. Do we believe in ourselves enough about the attainment of the vision we are driven by and aspire to? Or do we inherently distrust the process? And if so, why do we distrust the process? What pain does ‘trusting the process’ mean for us? And how can we align ourselves with our highest interest?
For some reason, I always find myself going back to Samuel Beckett’s “Try again. Fail again. Fail better.” . To grow unafraid of the learning process of falling, so much so that we gather momentum in our process, and rather than stumbling on our obstacles, we simply hop over them, sidestep them graciously and carry on unperturbed by the external rain, because within an eternal sunshine shines its warmth and our vision fuels us on like coal in a steame-engin.
Start anew.
*As for the woman? We never spoke again. She was simply there to remind me that I have a gift in my writing. Like an angel passing by, to nudge me along in the right direction. Entering my life to remove my obsolete onion skins of outdated belief and instil new ones. Like winter erases the months before and lets the land lie fallow, all states of mind have an end.
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