Photo: From the cover of "Obsession", a compilation album of rare 1967-74

South American, Indian, and Turkish psychedelic songs.

The other day I realised how lucky I am. I really love what I do. Even the stink bits, apparently. I guess it’s hard once you begin doing your own thing professionally, not to become utterly wrapped up in it at certain points. But while time flies in your work day, what happens when you start spending a sizeable amount of the rest of your hours at it too? How big of a loss is the outside world... really?

Feeling lucky, punk?

See, I recently caught myself in an almost embarrassing moment of scanning-and-resizing bliss - genuinely enjoying one of the more banal and repetitive aspects of my job. My delight in the act of doing something towards the final vision could not it seemed, be dulled by the pedestrian nature of the task at hand, nor the fact that I was doing it back on Xmas Morning. I was just muddling away and loving it. It's not a bad thing in itself for getting things done and all, but I know what this kind of euphoria usually means for the rest of my life. And it might be time to consider it before old patterns emerge. There’s another side to the elation - a severe and abrupt come down called burn-out. Is this love-phase merely the honeymoon period which comes with the thrill of recently starting a new venture, or the beginning of a new obsessive phase of work? And either way - could it be harnessed as something healthily sustainable for the long term? Only time, and the results of my focus will tell in the end, but it got me thinking about the kind of romantic relationship that can develop with one’s work, and when (or if) we should be worried! Does being in love with your work hold its own dangers, and how can we make the most of it, while not getting lost up our own creative um, cul-de-sac?

Is it love?

Imagining one’s work as a romantic partner is interesting, though not a new concept - considering the mere existence of a phrase like “married to the job”. Beyond the commitment inferred, for some it will describe an oppressive notion - a ball and chain of life-stealing, time-monopolising duty and obligation. For others it will ring true to a sense of romance in, or dedication to what they do - that feeling of being adrenalised, impassioned and alive when you kick into your particular gear, regardless of whether you’re just starting out or have been at your profession for years. One person’s slog may be another’s pleasure, but you’ll probably know which side of the fence you generally sit on.

That worked out well.

The feeling can also swing back and forth between oppression and romance for a lot of us, but the majority of creatives, entrepreneurs and thinkers would probably volunteer themselves for the second group overall - because, most of the time they realise how lucky they are to do what they love all day. (Except for ‘those other’ days, where they - like anyone - might flirt… perhaps even frot shamelessly, with the idea of giving up and changing directions altogether.) However, some part of them is aware that they’ve basically won the vocational lotto. It’s kinda like getting paid twice - doing what you love - even if you only get paid sometimes. Maybe that’s why so many creatives, entrepreneurs and cutting-edge thinkers are reluctant to take time off (or even, conversely, appear to some others to be doing so all the time); they’re already doing what they’d be doing on vacation anyway.

For part two click here.

This is the first part, in a three-part article exploring some of my thoughts, experiences (and coping strategies) related to the dynamics involved in loving what you do. The beast of creating (art or ideas or businesses, or anything else for that matter), brings with it a different wrangling experience for everyone - and equally varied tricks to harness it, so I’d be interested to hear yours. How obsessively immersed in what you do have you become (or caught yourself at times)? Just sign in to comment.

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