LIFE
The Day I Stopped Beginning
Follow your passion but believe in yourself to show up
We start a hundred ventures, and if one works, we close the other ninety-nine.
That was a strategy my friend’s boss once shared with him. The boss is the kind of man who wears expensive suits jacketless to look hip. He is also the kind who still uses the word “hip” in the far-advanced vocabulary of the 2020s.
My friend brought this strategy up as we were planning a new collaborative project, or as I called it back then, yet another doomed way to glory. What can I say? We were Mariana Trench-deep in our twenties, and TikTok was already overwhelmed by dancing people earning seven digits.
“We can’t launch a hundred different projects,” I protested. “We’ll burn out, you know how it gets. I am burning out cooking dinner these days.”
However, I already had around ten passions and startups that ended up nowhere. Needless to say, seeing through was never my strong side. And I am certain it has been the downfall of many great ideas throughout the ages.
Despite my initial unwelcoming response to the idea, I made an honest but rookie mistake that day. I’ve decided to keep trying different things until something works. After five years of walking this path paved with fool’s gold, I’ve learned two priceless lessons.
The beginning is far easier than everyone makes it sound.
But the more you begin, the more you forfeit.
I am now looking at the Pile of Unwanted, Folders of Oblivion — paintings I’ve started, a photography Instagram last updated two years ago, about twelve small startups, piles of posters I did as an “aspiring designer,” and the most painful forget-me-not of them all — dusty synthesizers and MIDI controllers from what I call “my music days.”
To be brutally honest — there are regrets. But if it was destined to take me five years to realize I am not a jacketless hip boss — I’ll swallow this red pill with excitement and gratitude. After all, picking something you can see through is a tough task.
“Do what you love” is a bit of proper advice, but far too vague to be applied on a micro level. Besides, it puts you at risk of receiving negative or no feedback for things you enjoy, and that can be one hell of a slap in the face.
Five years of new beginnings with no progress unveiled a peculiar perspective to me. Life, even being sour and capricious at times, assembles its intriguing puzzle. Even in a whirlpool of diametrically opposite ventures, I was still doing a little bit of writing quite consistently. Thanks to my job, I did some screenwriting. Thanks to online platforms, I stretched my brain by writing fantasy stories and sci-fi shorts. These little puzzle fragments now look to me aligned on a map, and for the first time in years, I can see how foolish I was.
While constantly rushing to start something new that in my head would definitely, most certainly light the candle of a beautiful career, I missed the fact that I’ve already begun something that actually matters to me.
It might have been a case of “finding myself,” but then I’ve never felt lost along the way, not a single time. I had ideas that outshined other ideas and inspired me to follow them up until a new bright idea came with the first light of the fifth day, at dawn from the east.
There’s a big lie hidden deep in this approach. Subconsciously, I wasn’t quitting anything, just putting it aside because there was a new shiny thing in town. There’s always a chance I get back, that’s what I told myself.
What’s the best thing I’ve learned?
Creating a new Instagram account because “this one will definitely work” is a wonderful way to end up with ten inactive accounts.
The day I figured out the futility of consistently beginning new things was the day I finally believed in myself as a creative. Commitment to showing up for me became the single greatest token of self-appreciation.
It’s my hundredth story here on Medium, and this journey taught me obedience to the craft. Life keeps working on its puzzle, sorting out edges and trying different pieces in various positions until it finds the correct match. And I allow myself to see this puzzle now, rejecting new ventures with a heavy heart.
There will be new, better ideas and passions. And even better ideas and passions will come after.
The chain goes on for eternity.
Perhaps to give birth to a great poet, one has to bury a great painter. And only then, when consistency eventually pays off — wave the dust off your old canvases and pick up the brushes if your soul still desires.
If you enjoyed this story, you can always follow me for more. Maybe somebody will even give you a cookie. Who knows, the world is full of surprises!
