In this world, as we pass through, we may realize that there are some activities that we deeply and truly love – little skills, hobbies, and occupations that pique our minds, hearts, and souls when we participate in them as an act of pleasure.
As we pass through the tides of time, though, almost inevitably we come to realize that simply because someone we enjoy something, that doesn’t mean that we are going to be good at it. In fact, that’s an understatement.
Why are we talking about good when actually we can be horribly, devastatingly, and world-changingly catastrophic at it?
Here the realization inevitably comes, almost as if it were the common heritage of humanity:
Just because you like something, that does not mean that you will be good at it.
One might argue that a true passion is such that even if one isn’t good at something, that the passion should stay.
Even if you are a horrible dancer, that does not mean that you should despise dancing.
The words of an eternal Malay proverb come to mind, “Tidak tahu menari, memarahkan lantai.”
They resonate through the core of our beings and remind us:
If you dance horribly, that does not mean that you should blame the floor.
In other words, our lack of skill is no justification for our preferences, which are shown superficial if being bad at them is our grounds for casting them away.
After all, are we not like the fox, that declared the grapes sour, purely because we could not reach them?
In a way, this may be true, but a reality is that in this world, skills are not necessarily their own reward, and imagining that they are is to neglect the realities of our universe in lieu of something all too idealistic, rarefied, and divorced from both the world and the way it supports, facilitates, and grows skills.
From a purely psychological perspective though, the idea that being good at something can enhance enjoyment is well-supported by research across multiple fields.
When people feel competent or skilled in a task:
• They experience greater intrinsic motivation (Self-Determination Theory).
• They are more likely to achieve a state of flow (Flow Theory).
• They feel rewarded by using their strengths (Positive Psychology).
• They expect to succeed, which increases motivation and enjoyment (Expectancy-Value Theory).
• They activate the brain’s reward pathways, creating positive reinforcement (Neuroscience).
• They have higher self-efficacy, leading to greater confidence and satisfaction (Self-Efficacy).
However, it’s not just the case that competence makes an activity easier or more manageable and contributes to the sense of pleasure and fulfillment we get from it – we live in a society that rewards it, and so provides the conditions for its continuation:
The truly skilled of any domain find opportunities as a result of their success. People who are skilled in languages can become language teachers in the same way that people skilled in the cello or the piano can become master performers or instructors. Across almost any domain, this is true…
But what is also true is that attaining such levels of skill is inevitably a hard-won battle and is not guaranteed either.
To muse a little, talent is a relative measure, and the world is a competitive place – To become distinguished is not so easy as being able to play at a certain fluency on the piano, or create pieces that resonate with the universe at scale. It is a matter of shining, differentiating oneself, and showcasing that one is both immeasurably better and immeasurably more relatable than those around them, or, if neither of those, than immeasurably more competent in the relevant area, in a way that others would universally accept.
There are many reasons why a person can lack the talent that they need to move on to the next level.
Discipline, a lack of the talent to generate in an hour what someone else can bring forth in 6 minutes… better training, resources, facilities, for others that one does not have. But on a personal note, I am agnostic about these things. Because if one lacks talent in a certain way, how could one confidently distinguish between the reasons? Do you really lack talent, and hence you’re unable to do something? Or is it because you don’t have the discipline to do it? If you think down to it, it’s not so clear-cut or easy to distinguish – and what’s worse, it becomes the foundation of excuse-making, malingering, and eventually a blame game that converges in a blaming of everything except oneself on account of an abandoned quest towards one’s end goal.
As such, I think it’s not a question that’s worth addressing.
What I do consider worth addressing, though, is the fact that there is a natural order to things – A timeline over which people pursue things, and over which the binary determinant of whether a talent will flourish or die is made; a timeline I’ve known all too well over time.
There are many things out there that I like, but I’m not good at – Things that I’ve tried to learn, but have failed in the process because I didn’t allocate the time necessary, or because I didn’t have the talent.
I’d like to think that I’ve learned some things from my failures, but probably the most immediate one is this. Whatever it is that you do, do with all your heart and your soul. Distribute it over the course of time. But remember that discipline is good for you. In the moments when you don’t feel like doing things, discipline will keep you. Passion on the other hand is separate, and it’s true that without it, the journey would be hard to sustain, and ability difficult to procure. But therein lies the benefit of looking back at the things that we try to strive for, to reflect upon them, and to push forward, realising why it is that we wanted to do certain things. I have plenty of reflections on my own life that I’d love to share, but I suppose those will come at a later time.
