Pick one.

I have a gift.  I am certain that I am very good at doing one thing:  filling my calendar with things to do.

There are things I enjoy doing, feel compelled to do, and am curious about doing.  Writing, singing, dancing, becoming a professional something-or-other, helping people, learning about new stuff, practicing yoga, keeping friendships alive, reading, taking long walks, creating art.  I've often thought that if I could just pick one of these things and commit to it, I could do it really well.  I believed that there would be some payout of satisfaction in this choice that I have not yet experienced in life.  If I could just choose the one thing I love the most and only do that, immerse myself in it, I could realize my potential.  As an adult I've found my inability to do this disappointing.

I've been pondering this for the past few days.  I asked myself why I haven't been able to pick the one thing.  I realized that I haven't been willing to set any other thing down.  I am unable to focus on the experience of shining the light on the 'one thing' because I can't stop looking at all the other stuff in the shadows waiting. Well, realizing that made me love myself a little more.  These things I care about --the poetry and the music and the friendships and the desire to learn and grow-- are like my children.  I created them, I take care of them, I nourish them, I spend time with each of them.  I've got a lot of kids and they are all at different levels of maturity and have very different needs and personalities.  They're mine and I can't disown any one of them.  It might be tiring, and sometimes I'll neglect a few, but never intentionally and never permanently.

When I was a little girl, I played the violin.  So did my twin brother.  There's been a story I've been telling myself all my life about the experience of growing up with a brother who dedicated himself wholly to that instrument and was praised for the results of his devotion while I only considered the violin an interesting experiment and was reminded of the results of my lack of commitment by my violin teacher often.  I'm letting go of the story of being in the shadow of my brother.  Really.  Finally.  I'm just realizing that I'm a different person altogether, and I did other things while Aaron practiced.  I learned how to play the flute, viola, cello, piano, I sang too.  I have never, until this moment, acknowledged any of that.  For too long I had been focused on amending what I thought was an injured ego from the experience of not being outstanding at any single one of those instruments.

I'm a curious person.  A seeker.  I don't need to know everything about something.  I just need to know enough to experience it.  There's magic in stopping there, I think.  It feels like an honoring of the 'one thing' and myself.  We all remain intact.  We've known each other but not given ourselves over to each other.  Maybe this tendency in me is what makes loving one person particularly challenging for me.

Today I accept and embrace all of this.  I am a whimsical girl.  I like that.  And if I keep it up, I'll get to know and see a lot of things.  I might not ever perfect any one art or have a remarkable career, but I will have seen and learned and experienced enough to make up for that.  Besides, saying that I'm a poet, dancer, violinist, pianist, singer, writer, and artist feels better than just saying one thing.  It leaves room for the possibility to say more.