It feels intuitive as soon as you say it: that the antidote to overwhelm is to devote yourself fully to one thing, and only move on to the next one when the first is complete. Lists. Decisiveness. Completion. Action. Clearly, this is what would help someone (me) who feels like there are so many things I would love to spend my energy on, that all feel urgent and important, beckoning my attention equally. But as seductive as this chorus of siren calls is, pulling me towards more ideas, new projects, fresh rabbit holes of curiosity simultaneously, I am also plagued by the familiar grief that comes with abandoning an idea for the sake of pursuing a new one. This awareness stretches over the large bucket of ideas that have all been started with the sincere desire to complete them, but were discarded for something shinier, sexier, but more often than not: simply newer.
the necessity for completion
This is the challenge of the generative mind: the blessing-curse of always being deeply fascinated by something. Where boredom seems impossible, and the ideas can feel infinite. Where it is impossible to congeal each one into reality at the rate at which they appear.
I am not writing to you after figuring this one out; I am very much in the throes of learning to manage my mind, prioritize my ideas, and abandon those I could never honestly hope to finish instead of desperately clinging to them, hoping they will squeeze themselves out of me and into existence on their own. This ill-informed fantasy that I will one day “return” to these ideas only extends their inevitable rotting in some dark corner of my mind, where they take up mental real estate but never truly become more than what they began as. Ideas don’t just become something on their own—they appear on their own, but the rest is up to you.
After the spark, an idea demands focus, discipline, effort, and a willingness to say no to new things if you want to bring it to completion. I know this because I operate in the realm of creating things that appear in my mind. My craft is to pin ideas down with words, to bring them from the ethereal space they emerge in into the material realm. I’ve learned that ideas will do everything and anything to squirm past my attempts to materialize them. Often they will massively expand, relentlessly growing in ambition and scope. Other times they remain fluid and undefined, refusing to be solidified into a form that makes them legible to others. They do whatever they can to avoid their birth into the world. Because ideas don’t really want to be created; they want to keep growing in the fertile soil of the mind as long as we let them.
imagination is infinite
The thing no one tells you is that ideas can grow forever, and will never stop springing out new branches and dimensions. They will become untame-able beasts that could never possibly squeeze through you—the bottleneck keeping them from reality. They become so content living in imagination-land where they cannot be fully seen. Because when they are fully seen, they are far less mysterious, and, of course, they risk being misunderstood.
The barrier to bring any idea to reality is to admit that the way that you do so might be inadequate. It is to acknowledge that you may not do that idea justice, but that you are going to create anyway. Because as soon as an idea is created, it is now something. Something that can be held, touched, read, looked at, questioned. And it’s far for more fun for ideas to stay ethereal, unreachable, and fluid. It is far more liberating for them to be a growing, expanding, and ever-evolving entity in the imagination.
At least, that’s true in theory. The reality, though, is that these never-ending, always-expanding, but-never-fully-coming-to-life ideas plague us with an invisible but undeniably psychic weight. The weight of incompletion. The perils of distraction, of avoidance, of resistance, of a lack of focus. This weight burdens us, dents our confidence, discourages us from starting new things (because look at these old ones that we never completed!) These incomplete ideas remind us constantly of what they could be if we were to pay full attention to them, if we were to just focus.
But to feel the relief of bringing an idea to life, this pattern needs to be broken. Ideas need to be plucked from our minds and pinned to reality. We need to train the muscle of completion. Because from completion flows ease, and from ease flows clarity— an essential ingredient to a full, balanced and creative life!
one thing at a time
I used to do gymnastics growing up, and one of the reasons it was so good for me is because it forces you to go slow. In gymnastics, an explosive and powerful sport, the only way to do well (and stay safe) is to do one thing at a time slowly, and to not let your mind drift towards the next skill before you have completed the one you are on. This was especially a challenge for me on balance beam. I was always so keen to get to the next thing that I would forget to focus on the skill I was doing (see: slow down). And when you let your mind drift towards the future while flipping on four inches of wood, well, you can probably guess what happens next.
What I am beginning to realize now though, as an adult with a profession that mostly centers around tapping keys and talking to people, is that this lesson from gymnastics still applies to my life seamlessly. I notice the same tendency in me that left me wobbling on balance beam plaguing me in the work I share with you, my beloved reader. I get so excited about the next thing I can offer you that I abandon the thing I just started. I start working on an idea that just appeared—all sparkly and new—instead of polishing the one I had been nursing that once sparkled with the same novelty that this next idea shines with.
The result of this is that many of my ideas end up in a graveyard (of drafts), withering away, without a ceremonial burial or mourning period. They perish with a rather undramatic dissolution, being swallowed back into my mind, eventually reformulating itself into something new, likely to experience the same fate unless my pattern shifts.
the blessing-curse of the generative mind
It is easy for me to see, imagine, notice, observe, be inspired, ideate and to feel clear on what to do next. I know that these are qualities that others struggle with and I am very grateful that I do not suffer from a lack of (I even teach people how to get to unblock themselves and liberate their creativity!) The blessing side of this is that I never run out of ideas: I could never be bored, there is always something deeply interesting to me, there is always some place I could think bigger or dream up an idea that excites me and others. There is always something I am inspired by. There is always something to be talked about, to learn about, to get good at, to lean into.
The curse side of the generative mind is that it is hard to manage an engine that never stops generating—ever. It is hard to keep up and control the quality of what comes out. It sometimes feels like there is no way to rein in my own mind—no way to focus on just one thing, to stop the flow of new ideas, to go slow and controlled, with my attention placed squarely on the task at hand. This is why any activity where I am forced to go slow is so good for me. Gymnastics and pilates, for example, remind me what happens when I go slow: I grow stronger, more confident, more focused, and I feel at ease.
In contrast, when I let this generative aspect of my nature roam freely, it feels like there is a constant build up of energy inside of me without any release. But the release is essential! Otherwise, it feels like you are always about to burst, and that can be quite draining—to always feel on the cusp of expression, with very little to show for it because everything is stuck inside of this high pressure valve!
shorter queue, faster action
I’ve noticed that I feel much better about myself when I keep a shorter cognitive queue of ideas I am exploring and clear it often. I have noticed that I feel better when I am a little less audacious and a little more judicious than I want to be with what I focus on. Because with the generative mind comes a certain type of insatiability, an unrelenting curiosity that always wants more exploration, and less completion. And sometimes the ONLY way to tame an insatiable creature is to set boundaries, to stop feeding it endlessly. In my case, this means entertaining fewer ideas than I am tempted by, and focusing more energy on completing the ones in front of me.
note: i’m still learning!
This is a work in progress. Taming this hyper-generative mind is the shadow-side of liberated creativity: more ideas than I can act on! Prioritization, structure, and restraint are the medicines I am now learning to dose appropriately. One effect of this struggle is that I have a large pile of drafts I would love to share with you, but I need to tame my inner-idea-engine to get them clean enough for you to read. Which is what I want to do (consciously!), I just need to work with the unconscious forces dreaming up much grander worlds than my little human vessel can keep up with to get on board as well.
Part of what I am feeling is that I need to change my relationship to writing here a little bit… I want to give you all that I can, even if it is not perfect. This reminds me of Kendrick’s acceptance speech for the Grammy he won for Mr. Morale. In it, he says: “thank you for helping me finally find imperfection with this album.” Poking at his reputation for being notoriously perfect with all of his releases. I have a feeling that I am entering a similar arc to Kendrick’s: showing more process. More imperfection. More willingness to be seen, at the risk of being misunderstood. More completion, and more action. Even if the idea could be ‘better’ than the version I present to you, I want to value abundant completion over perfect execution. Because, as intimidating as it is, I would like to keep up with this endlessly generative engine I’ve been endowed with. So stay tuned for more possibly-imperfect-but-complete Mind Mine content soon! I am excited to peel back the layers and reveal the cognitive queue before it perishes and drifts back into the abyss of my mind, waiting to be reformulated into something else. Because evolving requires us to loosen our grip a little bit, and allow ourselves to become what we are naturally morphing into. More on that soon. For now - let me get back to editing my next draft :).
Some of the more raw upcoming Mind Mine content will be for paid subscribers only:
Related essays you might enjoy: slow down, embracing the exhale, avoidance & expression, don’t let your ideas rot, resistance & regret. Also, find me on Twitter.
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Do you struggle with having more ideas than you can reasonably act on? What are the ways you manage overwhelm and prioritization? I would love to benefit from your collective wisdom!
I'm glad I didn't read this when you first published it. Reading it now, after experiencing the difference between creating something tangible out of your ideas and just letting ideas float in your mind, makes me appreciate this piece so much.
In the midst of facing a similar struggle in the context of music and writing. Thank you for this mirror!