The Kid That Used to Create Stuff
We all know that kid. It used to occupy himself (or herself) creatively. Boredom was a blessing more than a curse, a chance for him to create something new and have something to show to his parents or whatever legal guardian he had. Long before specializations came to his life, he was a force of nature, an avatar of Shiva. Of course, Shiva was also a deity of destruction, so that kid used to break stuff too, enraging the gods (in his case, his parents). But that was forgivable because he created at least as much as he destroyed.
As he grew older, he learned the ways of the adults. He learned about organization and the need to specialize in everything. “You can’t do everything, you’ve got to choose something,” he was told. Apparently, “be like you” wasn’t an acceptable answer. So, he examined what he was somewhat decent at and what he found interesting and worth exploring.
If he were hands-on, he channeled his creativity in the practical stuff, which the adults would call Engineering, and respectful names like that. He'd learn the ways of the toolkit, and screws became his friends. Before long, he could help fix things around the house or even the building. If he were privileged enough, he'd go on to the big boys' school to learn the more advanced stuff he couldn't learn through an apprenticeship.
If he were more versed with verse and potent with prose, he channeled his creativity in the literary arts or even journalism, depending on how much he'd cultivated his imagination. He'd learn the ways of the pen, and along with paper, he'd form a sacred fellowship. Although he wouldn't go with them to conquer some Tolkien-based foes, he'd still make miracles out of words, forging plots and stories others would love to learn about, or at least listen to him, through the texts he'd fashion.
If he were more scientifically minded, not accepting things at face value but heeding to the wisdom of data stemming from experiments, he’d opt for the ways of the scientist. He might still enjoy making stuff, but it wouldn't be out of materials but out of concepts and ideas, instead. He'd fashion theorems to use as scaffolding for the theories he'd build or at least contribute in building to make the world make a bit more sense. If he were lucky, he'd turn some of this knowledge into something applicable so that he could work on it with his engineer friends.
If he were more adept at working with others, viewing them as extensions of himself, he’d opt for a more ambitious path: what the adults would call with boring names like Business and Administration. His more open-minded relatives would refer to as Entrepreneurship, something he’d have to ask his more linguistically minded friends to explain to him, at first. He'd learn the ways of the manager and the ideal of the leader, the art of forging partnerships and design products. He'd make projects his bread and butter while handling conflict would become his superpower. The best part is that he'd get to work with his more specialized friends too.
Looking back, that kid who’s a grown-up by now, he’d ponder on how he could have done things differently. A futile task, since no one can change the past (his Physicist friend would remind him of this at times). Yet, perhaps it doesn't matter because whatever he had chosen his path to be, he did it with creativity, curiosity, and commitment. The best part is that he grew in the process, not just in years but also within himself. And that's something he wouldn't trade for the world!
Source: pixabay.com (after some processing work)Th ...
Source: pixabay.com · “While binary behaviour is s ...
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