Evoking Passion

As I have been playing piano for a large number of high school musicians over the past week, it has struck me that so many of the beliefs and habits people carry around for the rest of their lives are already in place for these students. Many of them are talented, but the level of dedication and artistry displayed by a few of them is reflected in the music they play. They have tapped into a true passion for what they are doing... something not everyone discovers. A few students are on the other end of the spectrum as well. After every few measures, they take a pause to offer excuses and justifications for why they don't know a piece or aren't playing very well.

Of course, some of this latter group's behavior could be the result of nerves, but there is something more underneath. After accompanying so many other musicians over so many years, it's evident to me that some of them call forth a level of passion and intention that others never reach. And the same goes for other walks of life as well. There are some people who turn being laid off from a job into an opportunity to create something about which they are truly passionate. I have heard of people writing books, starting companies, or taking their lives in unexpected and satisfying directions, all because they "lost" a job. Others interpret the same circumstances as a sort of paid vacation, or use the situation as an excuse to indulge in self-defeating thoughts and behaviors. They don't tap into the same level of passion and purpose.

In my own life, I have taken the time created by stepping away from a predictable work schedule to compose music and seek more opportunities for my music to be heard. And I have been working to fit all of the things that ignite my passion into one big picture of my life. Seeing how excuses and assumptions work against other people, though, I have realized that I can be doing the things that are truly important to me, regardless of my circumstances. Many years ago, I was working full time as a courier and wrote a ten-minute wind ensemble piece over lunch breaks and in the evenings. And back then, the full score and all of the parts were written out by hand; I didn't have a computer program to assist with notating the music the way I do now. But it mattered to me, and so I made it happen.

Believing that I have to create a special set of circumstances in order to have what I want is a self-imposed limitation. It means that I have an excuse for not doing the things that matter to me, which could have the payoff of letting me play the martyr. In any case, recognizing that I have the freedom to do what what's important to me regardless of my circumstances is liberating. I am grateful that I know what I'm passionate about, and I strive to stay awake to how I can inspire others to discover what those things are in their own lives.

Whose Vision?

I am one of those people who has a clear idea in mind of what I want from life. I don't always know exactly how to get there, and I don't always do the things I believe will get me closer to my vision. Over the past few months, several lights have gone off for me as I observe my behavior and notice the things I do that sabotage my own efforts.

One of those has been the realization that I have a bit of fear regarding success. I don't want to be driven to achieve things; I don't want to be spending all of my time working toward something and not enjoying the result. But when I take a look at the true vision I have for my life, I can see clearly that the drive to accomplish things is actually a distraction from what would really mean success for me. I lose focus on what is vitally important to me at the core of my being, because it's easier to work toward concrete, short-term, easily-defined goals. That these goals often do nothing to propel me forward can escape my notice when I am bouncing from one task to the next.

So where to all of these goals come from if they don't serve my vision for my life? Other people. Sure, my mind can come up with distractions and busywork to keep me treading water so I don't have to confront an irrational fear of getting what I really want, but it doesn't usually have to exert itself. Other people's vision for what I should be doing, for what they need, or for what life should be like can distract me from being aware of how my own vision quest is progressing.

And I want to be a part of other people's vision for lots of reasons: I want to make a difference. I believe in what they want for the world. I want to validate their ideas. I want them to be happy. I want to be valued. But the bottom line is, I often allow what I want most for my life to take a back seat in order to spend my time and energy on someone else's vision. Whether the other person's vision has merit or creates something good in the world is irrelevant at a certain point.

There can be something profoundly healthy about asking "What's in it for me?" In the past, I have thought of that as a selfish question. When people wanted to know what they would get out of something, I have often judged them. Now I am learning that there is nothing selfish in asking how my deepest, most heartfelt intentions will be satisfied by a certain decision or course of action. And when I look at it honestly, there is certainly no reason to fear following that vision.

Photo by Fishtail@Taipei

D&D

Dave Arneson died last week. Although I don't often see references to Dungeons & Dragons in the mainstream media, almost every time I do, there's a phrase like "popular geek pastime" or "marketed primarily to teenage boys." Sure, some of the commentary comes from people who know little about the game, but it is rarely acknowledged that role-playing games can engage the mind in a uniquely beneficial way.

In a social environment focused on design, story-telling, and cooperation, people exercise both strategy and empathy to do something adults typically do too little of: play. When we let it, a role-playing game can clue us in to some of the dramas we play out in reality. But in a game, we can explore the consequences of those dramas without seriously risking jobs, finances, and relationships. And if we are willing to, we can realize some things that aren't working in our lives because of decisions we make for our imaginary characters.

I didn't know Dave Arneson. I never had a conversation with him. And yet I have a great deal of respect for him. He contributed some of the ideas I value most. He saw the potential for role-playing games to be about more than fighting imaginary foes and killing exotic creatures for pretend treasure. People were important to him. He believed that personality is as important as combat in the game. Maybe that's what can seem so threatening about role-playing games: they have the potential to be more about vulnerable people than impervious heroes. If we aren't careful, we might learn something about ourselves.