Let me think about that
The joys of maker daydreaming
Monday! I hope you hit the ground running this week. But do take time to slow down and lose yourself in thought. It’s how the real work gets done. ~JRC
A big part of completing most projects is not the work in the shop. Instead, it's the time spent thinking about them. While this might seem like a drain - all that thinking without actually doing - it's far from drudgery. Instead, thinking about making it is quite fun and represents one of the deep joys of creativity.
The "build solutions space" in the brain is the realm where daydreams reside. It's that tucked-away recess where we wander to and lose track of the reality around us. David Lynch, the famed surrealist director (and woodworker/artist), claims such daydreaming is the best way to develop ideas. And I would have to agree. In thinking about solving a problem, our eyes grow distant, and we no longer experience the noise and distractions around us. It's a haven from the chaos, where we are free to consider possibilities - and solutions.
As fun as it is, thinking about a build solution is not always easy. Doing so tests our skill, resolve, and ingenuity.
Do we have it in us to solve this?
Can we come up with a solution to make this work?
Do we have the tools to complete it, or rather, can we complete it with the tools we have?
All these questions and more come into play when we consider possible solutions. And the answers are not always apparent. But this very challenge makes thinking about a build so rewarding.
It's hard for me to put a number on my time spent daydreaming about builds. I'd say I spend at least the same time thinking about making as I do physically creating. It's probably even more.
Most days, when I look idle, lost in thought - I'm thinking about making. Sure, I ponder other things, too - the weather, bills, life, love - death. But often, these thoughts are worries. And as we all know, worrying solves little. So when I am in control of my thoughts, I steer them towards build solutions, and my cares dissipate.
As a student (which, for me, was a massive chunk of my life), I suffered from severe test anxiety. The build-up to test day was always painful, no matter how prepared I was. There is the fear of failure, of course. But the pain is also that most tests require us to have the one and only answer. But solving a build problem is not so black and white. Often, there are multiple solutions, and we must arrive at a good one, if not the only one. This freedom is yet another joy in thinking about making. We are free to come up with our way to make it happen.
Build problems, unlike other concerns, are fun obstacles to overcome. And herein lies the true joy of creativity. It's the process of tapping into the good within us; it's when we drop the negative and harness the positive - to create. And for a moment, in the moment of creative thought, we find peace.
Until next time.
JRC
Ahh, the pain and stress of tests. I suffered this "ailment" and have never quite grown above it as much as I would want to. While I don't usually take tests anymore, the anxiety of "being tested" sometimes appears before a presentation to an influential audience or an interview for a job or contract. In contrast to those dreadful college tests where one had to memorize the material and regurgitate it accurately back on a paper with a clock ticking over your head, these modern, "adult" tests are supposed to be on stuff I know well. And not only knowledge but enthusiasm for the subject matter. Preparing for these tests is an intellectual exercise (making sure I have the facts and am ready for the tough possible questions) and an emotional preparation, where I prepare to show my passion and enthusiasm for the subject at hand.
Daydreaming or mentally preparing for the "test" is a big part of making, whether I'm making an object, a manuscript, a presentation, or a big decision. Yes, there may be stress and ups and downs, even dark thoughts about inadequacy or the ever-present possibility of failing. But in the end, if I have pondered enough about the endeavor's worthiness, it is no longer about failure or success. I believe that we should not be measured—by ourselves or others—by our failures but by our unwillingness to try.
I can't often separate failure and success because they are intermingled, whether I consider my professional life, personal life, career choices, or the things I tried to do or make that came out differently than what I wanted or imagined. I'm still learning to trust my instincts, do my research, think long and hard about the options and alternatives, and try the idea. Failure is not a loss but a set of lessons learned and experiences that will help me decide on my next steps.
Carlos