One would think by this title I was going to write a children’s tale, or perhaps a fable via the style of Aesop. But one would be wrong. What ensues is an attempt to explain, if only to myself, my penchant for what the husband calls “flitting.” The dictionary describes this word as moving swiftly and lightly. That pretty much sums me up.
I have a habit, annoying to some, fascinating to others, of moving from one point of interest to another all in one stroke. I embrace the quest for knowledge in a haphazard manner, leaving much to chance and all to whimsy. Let me explain.
At one time I thought I might have adult ADD. But I can concentrate on one thing to the finish and beyond. I can study hard and retain, read a book from cover to cover in one very long sitting, practice a piece on the keyboard until my fingers ache. So, I don’t think that would be an accurate diagnosis.
I tend to soak up bits and pieces of information like a sponge, wanting to participate, learn and grasp them in the moment. That moment might last a minute, a day or a life time. Take for instance last night. The husband and I watched a documentary on 60’s music called, “Echoes from the Canyon.” How Laurel Canyon in Los Angeles was a mecca for music artists of the mid to late 60’s. Groups like The Mama’s and the Papa’s; The Byrds, The Beach Boys; Buffalo Springfield and others that made the sound that defined a generation. I was so into this I promised myself I would buy the “Pet Sounds” album by The Beach Boys. Which reminds me I need to order an Ethel Waters album cause I love that 1920’s blues she sings.
See, I skip from genre to generation to century, all in a beat of the heart. This occasionally drives the husband nuts as he can’t quite keep up. But I can’t help it. As information comes across my brain I become fascinated and want to steep myself in whatever I’ve just seen, heard or experienced.
I have tried many different crafts in my day, although not finishing them is another blog entry all together. My attention tends to drift off when another, more interesting craft pops up. Music genres also flit through my life with sheet music from madrigals, to sonatas to jazz to hymns to show tunes residing in my piano bench.
Like a sponge I absorb many things I experience but like a squirrel I move from one thing to another in rapid succession, sometimes not landing on any one thing to complete an investigation.
And like a squirrel I sometimes can’t remember where I’ve stored my “nuts.” We have lived in our house for thirty-five plus years and I am continually surprised at what I find stashed away in a draw or attic closet. Projects I started decades ago and surely stored with the intent of finishing but never did. Like the three foot stuffed moose I was going to make for who knows what reason. Only finished the head. Perhaps I should mount that on the wall, but that somehow seems both wrong and sad. Or the partially finished knitting stuffed in a box with about fifty skeins of yarn. Or the laminator I bought to preserve my grandmother’s hand crafted cook book before it falls apart. I tell myself I will accomplish these things come winter. And yet come the cold months I start on a mosaic project or better yet home made Christmas gifts. And so it comes around that my attic is a treasure trove of half finished projects of the last thirty years.
Will I ever finish these items? Perhaps. Will I ever leave my squirrel alter ego behind? Probably not. Will I continue to soak up information like a sponge and never get tired of learning new things? Most definitely yes. There is so much to learn and explore and become aware of. New adventures to try, new songs to learn and new words to explore. Flitting at it’s best is joyous and at it’s worst drives people nuts. But better them than me.
magicalmess 