Considering I spend a lot of time berating words and crying out their woeful inadequacy in expressing our true intentions and feelings, I’m not entirely sure what it is about writing that seems to captivate my attention. I mock labels and definitions to no end, but these are the very devices that facilitate something I’ve grown to love. Perhaps the fun is simply in playing around with them, and the endless opportunity to create either brilliance or stupidity. I dunno.
I began thinking about this earlier in the day when considering what exactly brings any degree of happiness into my life. Reflecting on what eventually became a successful mural painting business that I maintained for 15 plus years, I wondered why I hadn’t actually even bothered to complete at least one new painting in the last 2 years. And it dawned on me that because I turned something I was passionate about into a business, always focusing on getting a job finished as efficiently as possible in order to move on to the next gig, somewhere along the way I lost my joy for being immersed in the process.