A PASSIONATE EYE ON THE PASSIONATE "I": (IT'S ALL ABOUT ME, ME, ME.)

"MELANIE AT THE MALL"

"STACEY AT THE MALL"

"DAVID AT THE MALL"

Reading psychology blogs as is my morning custom while sipping Americano coffees, Barton Goldsmith’s, “Five Ways to Help You Find Your Passion,”(November 11, 2017), jumped out at me.  

I must mention that I normally do not read Barton’s blog simply because of the picture of him snuggling his dog which is atop every one of his blog entries.  Time after time over the years this picture of Barton has turned me off from his worth of a thousand words.  (Google Barton Goldsmith and Psychology Today and you’ll see my shallow reason for customarily ignoring Barton.)

Anyway, here is the grit of Barton’s essay (his five points paraphrased and selfishly annotated, in me, me, me fashion):

• Do more than one thing. 

Ha!  My problem is there are never enough hours in the day or enough years in my life to embark on all the things I am wanton to do (wanton being as in play, not promiscuous).  I love studying and practicing hypnotherapy; I love writing songs; I love practicing didgeridoo; I love drawing fifteen minute portraits; I love going to the gym; I love going to work.  Factoid:  I do not excel in any of these wanton activities, but I think I rank in the 90^th percentile in most my activities.

• Be good at what you do. 

I rank myself in the 90^th percentile because it is “me” who decides to become good at something, and it is “me” who decides whether to stay engaged in an activity or not.   If it (whatever “it” is) can be fixed with a knife and fork or a hammer, I’m the guy to call.  I’m not handy and so the women better find me handsome (an oft heard heterosexual and sexist joke).

• What did you want to be when you grow up? 

As long as I remember I’ve always wanted to be an artist and a writer.  I am slowly getting there.  Right now I’m a street portrait artist (I always post my latest drawings somewhere in this blog) and I’ve been published a few times (a couple examples: A Wishbone Epistolary, 1985 University of Toronto, and The Creek, 2012, America Star Books.)  And I’ve yet to grow up.

• Do a mind map to see what points to your passion. 

This exercise of Barton’s is rather elementary.  He suggests you draw a circle in the middle of a blank page (representing your passion) and draw some lines from the margin toward that circle of passion, with some explanatory lines of direction.  However, I’m too sophisticated for such an Adlerian exercise. Practice, practice, and more practice is the key for both guitar playing and portrait sketching, or to express it in another way, write, write, and write even more for literary publication.

• If money were not an issue, what passion/s would you pursue?

I do know and I do agree with Barton is this particular regard.  I would not be stretched on some sandy beach with an umbrella drink in hand.  (I do confess I could hang out on that imaginary beach for an hour or two, but I would not be drinking alcohol.)   

I long to be:  a planetary portrait busker (see my blog entry, SKETCHES OF MARRAKESH:  A BILLET-DOUX FROM THE PLANETARY BUSKER, April 29^th, 2017, where I reached my zenith in Marrakesh).  To keep my pencil-never-lies skill, during wintertime I draw portraits at the Centennial Mall in Regina every Saturday.  As always, some of these portraits are shown at the beginning of my blog entry.

To draw to a close (lifestyle pun intended), hobbies and recreate activities are considered to be forms of self-expression, as are most lifestyle choices.  Preferred foods and beverages, self-adornments in style and costume and all the accoutrements thereof, grooming and physique are all examples of such personal choices.  

Of the forms of self-expression that are easily attainable, I dare say that one’s physical health is fundamental to one’s personal function.  This, to me, is a simple premise.  I have only the one body and that’s the only place I have to reside, and therefore, I ought to take care of it. 

Looking back now on my route 66, I know that life is but a fillip.  In existential dread I know that to live is to suffer (the skinny of Zen).  I know I ought to steer clear of the ever present pettifog that can cloud my highway to personal contentment.  We never know what’s coming, and I do not want to be that woebegone wannabee who filled a life with regret rather than risk.  

Whatever it is that's coming, I do hope to suffer my passions until I'm finis.

CHAUCERIAN PARADE:

Yesterday morning I thoroughly enjoyed having a coffee with my cousin, HOLLY PRESTON, who happens to be the only marcher in my Chaucerian Parade this week.  HOLLY is important to me for a couple of reasons:  First, Holly is family, and second, Holly, too, is a serious hockey fan.