When I was 17 and about to graduate from High School, I was asked what I would do for work. Note, I wasn't asked about what career I was interested in. Nor was I asked how I wanted to find fulfillment. 'What do you want to do for work?' was the question.
'I want to be a writer,' was my immediate response. 'I want to travel, and to write, and explore.'
Then, a short pause from my inquisitor: 'Writing is a good hobby, but it's not a real job.'
And that, as they say, was history until, Hive.io.
It was practical advice. It was guidance predicated on pointing someone in the right direction. It was a viewpoint offered sincerely. And it was intended to provide reasonable, even meaningful, feedback on my stated course of action.
The questioner was someone I depended upon, whose opinion carried great weight. And despite an inner desire to press on with my urge to write? I did not possess the fortitude, or perhaps the confidence, to do so. I was young and weak-minded.
Sure, I continued to dabble in poetry, short stories and entertained the occasional delusion of penning a novel, but for the most part? The flame was mainly extinguished.
After a few years of muddling along in a series of low-end jobs, I found myself married, with a couple of kids, and the increasing responsibility of keeping the bills paid and food on the table. We often moved, from apartment to apartment, as young people usually do. During one of these relocations, a second significant event occurred.
'Where's my writing folder?' I asked my partner while shuffling boxes out to a moving van.
'I tossed it,' they said. 'It was old, and it looked moldy.' The reply was casual and matter of fact, as if referring to an old sweater or a dog-eared paperback.
I was stunned. Virtually everything I had ever written from age 8 to present was in that worn, laminated folder. It was thick with sheaves of prose-inscribed papers, hand-drawn maps of make-believe lands, songs, and poems I had labored over. And yet, the knife was not quite all the way in.
'You never do anything with it, anyway.' And with that? Skewered.
Decades pass. A lifetime transpires.
Here and there, along the way, tiny tendrils of buried literary roots emerge. A newsletter for work receives warm praise. Help for a colleague writing a critical email leads to recognition of writing skills. An occasional, playfully composed report I submit to a board or committee I serve with produces a minor stir of appreciation.
I collect these pedestrian accolades and place them into a worn, laminated folder within my brain.
Partner leaves. Career ends. Kids grow up and disperse into their productive lives. And I find myself in a dark void, bereft of a clear mission and Purpose that the previous decades were steeped with. It's a relatively common storyline.
From the firey embers of a Life burned down, however, a Phoenix slowly arises.
Wrestling with drift, boredom peddles submission like a late-night infomercial. While I'm searching for a new Purpose, the urge to write frequently presents itself. However, the voice in my head nurtured and encouraged by thirty years of assurance that 'writing is a good hobby' helps me to stuff down the prospect of taking up the pen.
Then, while lamenting my circumstances to my adult children, I give voice to a potential project to sop up the seemingly endless free time that plagues me. I speak of it offhandedly, even dismissively.
A blog, a website. Sharing posts on Purpose. Passion. And Positivity. My favorite subjects, despite the irony of it all.
And something totally unexpected happens.
Encouragement.
Not just, 'Yeah, you should try that,' kind of encouragement. But, 'Hell, yes, Dad!' kind of enthusiasm.
In the old days, when your stove's pilot light went out, you'd need to strike a match and relight the flame. And when you touched fire to the slow seep of gas emanating from the valve, a small burst of ignition resulted. Pilot light restored. And even though you are expecting, even hoping for, that initial blast of combustion to occur, it never fails to startle you, nonetheless, when it transpires.
I combust.
I reorganize my home office space to create a comfortable and productive area from which to start. My days off are filled with words typed furiously into a laptop. I reset my morning alarm to 4 AM, creating two hours to write on workdays. I am semi-consciously reordering my entire Life to allow as much room to produce words as is possible.
Funny. The burden of endless, empty hours each day transforms into an intensive squeezing of every available minute - and lamenting that it's not enough. This is Brain on Fire.
This manic-like period carried me for two months. It was enough to produce a modest body of work that I had edited and rewritten until I was more or less satisfied with the content. And then, a new malaise set in.
I began to question the viability of my project. Turning from creation to critical ideation, I began to lose confidence in my vision. I started to look for reasons why my idea could not succeed, would not succeed. And they were plentiful.
Eventually, the weight of this collection of improbabilities collapsed in on my initiative, and I found myself back at the start of my journey. Adrift. Empty. Bored. My keyboard was silent.
I relapsed back into the wayward routines of before. Sleep in. Work. Have a drink. Watch a movie. Go to bed. No fire. No passion. No creation. And this deep freeze extended for several familiar, purposeless months.
Looking back on this latest period of desolation, it's easy to recognize a familiar pattern and its origins. A lack of conviction in the creative process. An abject shortage in self-confidence. And a gross misunderstanding of what self-actualization truly is and its many benefits.
With Covid-19 taking a short cigarette break in the fall of 2021, I fly off to travel for a few weeks. Foreign lands. New foods. Different cultures. When I return home, I'm full of stories and experiences. Pictures and videos. I'm rejuvenated by my Passion for travel yet remain disengaged from my other, still there latent on the shelf.
One afternoon, I was killing time by sorting through my browser bookmarks. (Yes, that bored.) I stumbled across a bookmark to a blockchain site I had last dabbled on over a year ago. I had produced content there, but nothing serious. In fact, most of the material was wine reviews, sports-related musings, and a few travel-related posts. I clicked on the link.
As you are probably well aware, that site is all but dead and deserted. All of my friends there were gone. I perused their final few posts like a grieving child going through their deceased parent's things. And that's when I discovered Hive.io. A brief mention of it in an otherwise nondescript post about this 'other' blockchain.
A bit of research led me to the infamous Hardfork 24 conversation, the migration to Hive.io, and an interesting tidbit regarding the cloning of the former blockchain's wallet and contents. And this material ultimately guided me to Hive.io.
I spent a day or so navigating the new platform. Similar in some ways, far superior in many others, I was intrigued. And then, inspiration struck me. Why not write and submit a post on my most recent travels?
And so I did.
And what has happened since that first post has been simply fantastic. Reinvigoration. With Passion. Purpose. And Positivity.
Having some success with my first few posts swiftly relit my pilot light. I set the alarm back two hours again. I poured over my pictures and constructed the narratives through my keyboard in waves of furious action. And I reacquainted myself with my rusty online project, which has now started to flourish.
Yes, the rewards of Hive are terrific. With each curated post on Hive.io, I receive value for value given. But more importantly, it's the Feedback Loop that ultimately drives my efforts and refreshes my intensity. It's the piece that was missing. Mere numerical counts of web traffic received do not compare with the experience of having actual users stamping your work with their approval.
And from those first few travel posts, I've felt compelled to expand. I joined and participated in more Communities. I've taken up my old practice of commenting on and upvoting other users' quality content. And I've begun to study the inner workings of Hive's blockchain framework by watching videos and podcasts produced by or featuring several of the developers here. Eager to learn and do more.
But I digress...
Looking back on this latest period of desolation now, it's easy to recognize a familiar pattern and its origins. A lack of conviction in the creative process. An abject shortage in self-confidence. And a gross misunderstanding of what self-actualization truly is and its many benefits.
Here are the most important aspects of my learning journey here on Hive.io.
I've regained momentum in the conviction that producing the written word is therapeutic and constructive in my Life. It is redemption, of sorts.
Self-confidence is a feeling of self-assurance. It stems from an appreciation of one's own skill, knowledge, or abilities. And those skills, knowledge, and abilities are developed through regular practice.
And finally, understanding that Self-Actualization cannot be measured simply by a calculation of success or failure. Self-Actualization is itself an inherently personal result. Being who you are supposed to be is of prime importance. It isn't measured by commercial success, public notice, or any other external rank.
Whatever it is that you are meant to do... Whomever it is you are supposed to be... That, Friends, is your calling. You can undoubtedly deny your internal drivers or bury them with other pursuits or activities. I suspect, however, that the cost of doing so will be manifested in ways that are ultimately unpleasant.
Thank you, Hive.io, for helping me take another step forward on the Path of Life. To move closer to my Passion. Purpose. And Positivity.
This work is my #ProofOfBrain.
Cheers!