Being an artist is a wonderful thing, but it is a world of give and take (as most things in life are.) However, I am what some would call a “jack-of-all-trades.” What this means is that I dabble in many different kinds of arts: music, digital, traditional, etc. And there’s something I’ve noticed about this kind of lifestyle. It’s rather astonishing. If you give your time to one art, you give yourself the opportunity to cultivate it. You can grow and enrich your experiences and products from spending time with the single idea. But, in doing so, you also lose the knack for another art.
When I decided to start blogging, it was on a whim (as I’ve said before.) I had no real idea what I was going to do with it but I’ve now started to cultivate it; I’m turning the process of blogging into an art form and in doing so I am losing a knack for other areas. To be specific, I am losing the knack for poetry.
For many years, I was a poet. It was the art I ran to when I could not fathom anything else or when I needed comfort. It was how I understood my reality and coped with it. It was how I expressed my way of contemplating. It was how I retained my creativity. My growth as a poet is an interesting one for poetry has served multiple purposes in my life. Now, it’s merely non-existent I fear. I fear losing this part of myself to other arts. Still, I lose it with each passing day.
Yes, when contemplating, I think I understand why we decide to follow one path rather than multiple ones. I think it would be too impractical for the human brain to try and be a master of so many things. That’s why we decide to master one thing and be an expert at it because it’s easy. And in doing so, we find our calling. But for me, I just love the arts! I could go my entire life not mastering a single art and be content if I could never completely lose touch with any of them (assuming I’m interested in them.) However, that is not the case in point of my reality.
I am an artist and I have lived and died many times. I was born a poet and died; then I was reincarnated a photographer and died. Then I was born again as an artist finding his way and I’m still living that life. My past lives are deeply connected to this current life I’m living which is why I cannot escape them and the fear of losing them. Yet, as I am able to understand this, I feel safety again.
It is a shame that humans work in such a way; to pick one thing up is to put another down. I have put down my quill and picked up my keyboard. It saddens me to see my poetic side yearning to live as I blog but that is what’s happening. I am attempting to resuscitate the shallow breathing poet and it’s not easy. I must make time for things that are important for the growing brain. I must make time for poems.
What happens when you lose touch with your initial calling in the world? Is “The Master of None” doomed to fleeting moments? Is it a bad thing to be called “Jack”? Leave your thoughts below.