The Collector’s Dilemma

A collection of sea shells, piled on top of each other.

As I’ve been doing some Spring cleaning lately, I’ve discovered quite a bit of digital clutter from various groups or programs I no longer subscribe to and it’s had me reflecting on a habit I used to have (that I worked for years to break).

In my lifetime, I’ve had a lot of restrictions, a lot of fear. Of what you’ll think or they’ll think, or of getting it wrong. Or getting it right.

Who knew the life of a free human would be so fraught with rules and parameters? Guidelines. Shoulds.

I think it was Picasso who said to learn the rules so you can break them. But sometimes learning the rules can be debilitating. And distracting.

Like, maybe we’re so busy learning how to do the things, that we don’t actually do the things. We may be so focused on mentally mastering the basics or the bells and whistles, we count that learning as progress toward our goals (which it is in some ways), but don’t actually move the needle with production. Kind of like putting all our money into a savings account, and never putting it to use.

A friend of mine calls it collecting underpants.

I used to be incredibly awesome at collecting underpants. I still kind of am if I allow myself to be (old habits and all that). I’ve been a part of all kinds of classes, summits, workshops and groups, filling my schedule with sessions on how to do this or why to do that (or the why or how behind that). And some of the learnings have been incredibly valuable. But at the end of the day, I used to trend toward letting the gathering of all those inputs count as the work toward my goals, often to the detriment of actually physically doing the work itself.

Did the classes and events and books and such help? Certainly! I’ve learned SO much and grown as a human, and as a creative. I’ve even made some new friends along the way. But it wasn’t until I really looked at my habits that I saw the rift between receiving information and actually taking action on it in my own life.

Consumption. Creation.

A heart shape formed by of a collection of seashells.

Image by Nick Fewings

My ratio was off for a long time in the spirit of becoming better. A better artist. A better parent. A better teacher. A better musician. A better human, etc.. I consumed all the things – learning everything I could about a variety of techniques and ideas. But it wasn’t until I got down to the work of actual creation that I learned how much of all that cool stuff I’d learned about really didn’t apply to my own process or way of being.

What works for some does not work for all. I’ve written before about the importance of being ourselves and doing what works for us and our processes in our art and in our lives, but I can’t speak about it enough. The only way to find our way, is through doing it. The only way to know if what works for so-and-so will work for us, is to try it. And while it is wonderful to learn about new things or to study a master’s work, the path to our own mastery of something must be paved with action.

Creation.

We must create more than we consume. Not just for us to grow as artists and humans, but for the health of humankind in general. And by the way, Creativity is not a finite resource. Ideas don’t just dry up and go away. We cannot drill that well dry. We can, however, become stagnant, clouded, or unable to tap that well when we aren’t connected to it (or to our goals), especially if the reason we aren’t connected is an overabundance of inputs telling us how to do the very things we know in our souls and bones to do.

When we consume, we pour into ourselves. When we create, we draw from within (powered by the entire freaking universe). When we consume, we eventually reach a cap for what we can hold before things just become noise and clutter. When we create, we are working in our toroidal field, which is renewable.

Both creation and consumption have a role in our lives. Just as with a fire, we need fuel to operate, raw materials with which to work. The trick is finding the appropriate balance for ourselves so we don’t wind up just collecting underpants. Here’s to finding what works for each of us, and to prioritizing creation over consumption.

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Chop Wood, Carry Water