An Ode to the Wandering Mind

I am a tale of constant distraction. I have random bursts of intense focus—often full of valuable creativity and learning, but brought to a halt by one wandering thought. That new show on HBO Max. Sudden hunger. Dishes in the sink. When I am manic, I am remarkably productive but at the mercy of my train of thought. El tren de los pensamientos. Sometimes, it works in my favor. Other times, I am sobbing at 12AM waiting on it to stop. I feel powerless. But as someone who has built a life on routine, as someone who loves control, this feels like the end of existence. How is it then, that sometimes I can accomplish so many goals, despite being so in the throes of my subconscious? I think therein lies the secret.

            I am not in control. I have systems in place to help me, but I am not in control. Take español, por ejemplo. I build routines all the time for active learning, but all I end up with is bursts of passive study. Movies in español—movies are automatic for me. Writing—escribo para siempre—en ambos idiomas. Hablando le hace mi mente tranquilo. And speaking in español. I find words that better express my feelings—encontro palabras que expresa mis sentimientos major que inglés. These bursts don’t feel like studying. They’re just a part of my life. I feel behind. Like I should be sitting on my couch with flashcards and a textbook. But when I meet with my Spanish tutor on the weekends, I find that I have retained all that passive information. I am able to articulate it. I surprise myself. Lo me sorpresa. I never studied—I was often distracted. But maybe—tal vez—intensity isn’t the answer. Rather, consistency—daily exposure in one way or another—is key.

            My close friend and fellow artist Rebekah recently wrote a poignant and exploratory piece on the role of technique in creativity. It got me thinking. Where I once thought I didn’t have a technique, I have realized I do—it is just not traditional. My brain doesn’t work in a traditional way. But that doesn’t make me any less effective. My whole life, I have been trying to fit in and create within the confines of what I perceive to be normal. That cripples my creative power, Letting go of trying to control the process—liberar perfección—leaning into my flow—those things determine my success.

            I think also about Darren Aronofsky’s Black Swan Nina is an ballerina obsessed with her work—much like me with language. But she lets technique and precision consume her. She can’t let go enough to let her passion show so she can play the title role. In the end, she gets the role, and the pressure is her downfall. I see myself in her—myself in the present and also in the not-so-distant past. I see her every time I punish myself for being who I am or for making a mistake. That movie continues to shape me—as an artist, as a linguist, and as a person. Como lingüistica. Como persona.

            I am a tale of constant distraction. Maybe that means I am different, but it also means I am adaptable. We should all embrace our true selves—our true faults. Celebrate our each of our brain’s wonderful evolutions. Lean in. Don’t hide. Bailar en todos mismos que matamos. Los mismos no que nos sirvieron ya—mismos normal—mismos opresivos.  

Rebekah’s piece: https://substack.com/inbox/post/164374850

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