Gift of the Curse: Part 3

In Gifted Grownups:The Mixed blessings of Extraordinary Potential, Marylou Kelly Streznewski suggests that there is a unique pattern underlying the intellectual transiency of a gifted life:

“I conclude that gifted grownups experience a constantly repeating cycle of renewal and growth which does not seem to be keyed to any life stage. Indeed, there seems to be a special rhythm to which a gifted life moves, must move, if the adult is to feel fulfilled and contribute to society.”

Speaking from experience, I can confirm that the “special rhythm” really does exist in exactly the fashion that Streznewski elaborates on in her book.

 The initial drive to learn about something, the passion and intensity with which the new and novel are pursued, quickly shifts from one thing to the next. It’s relentless and not entirely under my control. The interesting and intriguing parts of something, when consumed so rapidly, are exhausted just as quickly. On top of that, the gifted mind’s ability to readily identify the underlying systemic patterns of progress in any interest or skill leads to a rapid realization that “everything’s become the same” and a vague feeling that I’ve “learned it already”.

When being honest with myself, my original goal in any pursuit is usually to understand something and satiate my curiosity, or to complete a specific objective—to become talented enough at something to make manifest a certain creative vision or to be able to understand a given set of forces which are at work in the world— not become a “master” of the craft or the undisputed “expert” in a given field of study. The momentary self aggrandizing notion of becoming the “best” at something rarely comes from within me—more often, that is the dream of others imposed on the promising “talent” I show at the start whatever I’m working on.

But my own desire, the spark which sets the cyclical obsessions aflame, is rooted firmly in the need to constantly learn and explore. The repetition and endless practice required to be a master of something feels a bit too much like the endless worksheets I was made to do in school long after I’d learned the concept they professed to reinforce. There are inherent differences between those two things, but tell that to the thirsty part of my mind which looks up suddenly from some obsession we have been presently immersed in and says “I’m done with this now, what’s next?” When the magic is gone, it’s gone.

The cycle is like the heartbeat of my mind, and the pace of it is maddening to the people around me. New games, new collections, new hobbies, new arts, new academic fields, new jobs, new careers, new degrees. On and on it goes. Always the apprentice, never the master. Climbing to the level of intermediate with envy inducing speed and then…stopping. Just like that. Moving on to the next thing so I might begin again.

And I’ve taken a lot of shit for that because people can’t understand it.

I get lectures about patience and discipline and perseverance, largely because the lecturers don’t realize they are missing the point. I get told I “do too much” and need to learn to “stick with it” or that I need to quit being so “fickle” and just “apply myself” to something. And you’d be surprised how universal that sentiment is—it even makes its way into the pagan community and matters of spirit.

Now, let me just go ahead and get one thing out of the way right now: the thing that amazes me most about being Kemetic is that I have been able to be Kemetic. Consistently. With the same sub-set of gods, no less. That is awe inspiring to me, and so contrary to my nature that seems to be a certain sign that I am on the path I was meant to walk. But I am not at all like that outside the arena of my devotion to the particular manifestation of the divine which I perceive.

The special rhythm of giftedness is not entirely secular. Everything from religious research projects to various spiritual practices is subject to the cycle: interest, obsession, abandonment. To a lot of people that’s just wrong. So I get different but eerily similar lectures—“This takes practice and dedication”, “That is something you should only engage in if you’re serious and ready for the commitment it requires”, “These things are not for casual practitioners”, and so on. Acquire too many spiritual or mystical interests or interests that change too quickly and people roll their eyes at you. When it becomes clear that you are not settling out of your exploratory phase after the fortieth new thing, you start getting looks.

I have no objection to the idea that pursuing some depth of knowledge should be encouraged and that “shiny syndrome” is often shallow to the point of being counterproductive. However, I don’t think time is always a factor in the depth of one’s understanding. I think for me, the point is that I can have rapid fire bouts of spiritual progress in a large number of areas and still make it passed “beginner” in all of them. I may never make it past intermediate or advanced in any one category, but we already established that I don’t have any desire to be a “master” of anything anyway. And as for the oft touted “It’s dangerous to approach x carelessly because you can’t just turn it off later when you decide you’re bored with it” I say that hours upon hours of research during the obsession phase of the cycle hardly amounts to carelessness and as for not being able to “turn it off”, that isn’t much of a problem once I’m adequately proficient at doing or dealing with whatever it is and a big part of the cycle is becoming adequately proficient before moving on.  

The thing that impresses me most about the Gods in my life is that they seem to understand the rhythm that drives me. They’ve figured out that getting me to pursue a given paradigm is as simple as “Here’s a bunch of random things we know you cannot help but be intrigued by—find the connection and come back when you can tell Us why that connection is important.” I live for those kinds of challenges, and They are generous in providing them, which is a good thing, because I need that cycle of exploration and revelation in order to feel that my life has meaning.

I do recognize, though, that from the outside, I probably look like I’m stopping midstream. The reality is that the cycle is sometimes too brief for me to do more than a couple of blog posts about it before moving on to the “next big thing” and the parts of the cycle I share online through blogging and what have you are just snapshots taken at different points during the process. So I think I come off as never finishing anything. But offline, I do finish what I start (well, finish as far as I need too to satisfy the cycle, in any case).

For example: the shame research? Done. (Issues ongoing, obviously, but that was part of the main take away from the research). Though one probably doesn’t get that impression from the scant couple of posts I did about it. Lots of other stuff happened, but I don’t have the time or motivation to go back and write about it because I’m on to new stuff and the obsession phase of the cycle doesn’t allow for a lot of backtracking.

Similarly, other seemingly dropped topics weren’t dropped so much as completed off-screen so to speak. My study of illusion? Also done. Astral/Trance work? Ongoing, but don’t expect any more posts lined up the chapters from the Transportation book because I finished it not long after the last post and never got around to writing up any more of my thoughts about it.

 And while I’m being completely honest: there probably isn’t going to ever be anything else added to the Kemetic Oracle Deck page on this blog because I finished out my fascination with home-brewed divination systems ages ago. And I did eventually finish my re-read of Te Velde but realized after doing so that I was not emotionally up to the task of fixing all the stuff that needed fixing and shelved the project—I had grand plans for that, but I should know by now not to put so much stock in grand plans when it comes to my blogging habits. Because the cycle moves on and I get swept up in other things and simply don’t have the time.

 I’m not sure if any of this is at all good to simply accept about myself—privately, I fancy it makes me an eccentric genius but realize it might just as easily make me nothing more than a bad blogger. I know I’m a little late in the year for resolutions but here’s a new one for me: I’m going to try to stop promising things that I know my cycle won’t enable me to make good on. Failing that, I’ll at least try to correct myself quickly when I realize I won’t be able to make good on a promise because a cycle has ended too quickly.

I did at least finally finish the third installment of the Gift of the Curse series, which I promised back in December. However, don’t go looking for the write up of how Set was involved in all of this. To be completely frank, I’ve got this research thing going on, about the rise and fall of Scientology and the evolution of cult thinking in modern society and how it ties into the New Thought movement and…yeah. Probably never going to get around to part four. Sorry about that. :/

 I wish I had the time and the space to do everything I want to do in life, but if no one has told you yet: life is short. It’s not what I wanted to settle for, but maybe a lyrical paragraph or two is enough to be a place holder for what I might have written if I had a thousand years to live and no sense of urgency or fears that I don’t have enough time to get to everything.

This is the Gift of the Curse in a nutshell:

You live in a different world and sometimes wonder if you’re the only person in the world who has to play by different rules. You see how easy it would be to be normal but know that “normal” would destroy you. Because the world is too loud for your ears and too bright for your eyes. Because ignoring the unique needs imposed on you by your own intensity translates to OCD and ADHD and Depression. Because you could spend so much time trying to figure out where the broken part of you is only to be disappointed and ashamed that nothing is really broken. 

Because deep down, all you want to do is explore and learn and experience and because so many people seem to hold that against you for reasons you can’t understand….and you can’t understand because their perspective is alien and incomprehensible to you. Because choosing to exist as you are, and being made an outsider for it, is its own kind of power—the power of the rebel, the independent thinker, the fearlessly un-sheeped of the sheeple, the nonconformist with nothing to lose— but the price of that power is the loneliness that you feel even when you aren’t alone.

 Because being gifted means speaking a language that few others speak and never being able to fully parse the local tongue… and spending a lot of your life being ashamed of your social accent. Because there is never enough time to explain and there is always the next thing and the road goes on and on. Because you will die and in that last moment be obsessed with understanding death—because the cycle chases you all the way to your grave. Because you can’t imagine living any other way, and when push comes to shove? You don’t want to live any other way.

Because gifted isn’t a personality trait. It’s a way of being. You are free to accept it or not accept it, but you can’t change it.

My suggestion?

Tilt a glass, toast the fates, and embrace it.