When was the last time I allowed a complete idea to develop? A truly complete thought where I sat outside with it for hours, following its twists and turns, its contradictions and its imperfections. No distractions, no outcomes. No goal, no purpose.
I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve given myself permission to imagine, and that realization in itself is heartbreaking.
Imagination is a beautiful thing. It’s a privilege to possess the capacity to reflect, to grieve, to question, and to create as part of my lived experience. It’s beautiful to be able to feed these dimensions of lived experience to foster imagination and creativity. I know it’s a privilege and I know that it enriches my life to imagine; and yet, I don’t give myself permission to do so.
Why?
Maybe I could blame the attention economy, maybe I work too much, maybe I consume too much, maybe I’m running too fast and forgetting to look up once in a while. I could blame it on any number of things, but ultimately the problem is likely more nuanced than a single cause.
What I can articulate, however, is this: if I don’t even offer myself permission to fully explore ideas, how does this affect my relationship with the world around me? Perhaps I create far more noise than I intend to. Perhaps I’m limiting my capacity to contribute truly meaningful things to my community and those around me. I’m not sure. What seems clear is that I’m going too fast if I’m not allowing time to think before acting or reacting.
I’m robbing myself of the muscle to understand the world around me, and as that world grows increasingly complex, this becomes more of a problem. Trying to understand these complexities is one of the best parts of living. Even if not everything has meaning, the pursuit of understanding is valuable in itself and I can only pursue understanding if I give myself the time and grace to follow a thought.