Not Getting There Might Be The Best Thing For Us

This weekend, as a the latest typhoon bore down on Tokyo I’ve been re-reading my book and trying to see when I can make some changes and improvements. It’s been a very wet and windy start to start the autumn here, which is a good excuse to be locked indoors, close to my keyboard and printer.

One theme I’ve touched on a few times is the whole question of having a vision for your life. It’s actually something I’m not all that keen on. Not because dreams don’t matter. But, rather, because when we eventually encounter some modicum of success, or find a place for our work, the shape of that success is seldom quite what we expected at the start.

Writing this book has been the longest sustained stretch of writing I’ve enjoyed since I left academia over ten years ago. During these weeks I’ve fluctuated between a sense of nostalgia for those days and joy that sustained, detailing writing is not my “day job” anymore. Of course, I’ve “blogged” for the last ten years. But, in many ways, writing the book has led to reveal a lot of more of my story than I ever have before.

When I came back to full time creative work in 2004, I have a plan for what I wanted to do, a sense of what success might look like. But, ten years later, everything, from where I live to what I do, is completely outside that plan. The broad brush strokes are right, but the detail is very different.

The photo above is from Adelaide, in 2012. I stumbled on it during a break from editing today. It caught my eye because I’m so keen to get outdoors, do some walking, and enjoy the autumn, once the wet weather passes and the book is finished. But, it also reminds me that my notion of success today, involves making photos, which of course is something I never dreamt of doing ten years ago.