Are you a Renaissance Soul?

For most of my young-adult life, one question has caused me more depression, anger, and inner turmoil than any other: what is my one true passion in life? Why can't I find something that I truly care about enough to devote myself to completely? If I could just find that thing, I thought, everything would be be so simple. I would know exactly what to do with all my time. I would have a purpose, and nobody would be able to sway me from my one true path. I craved passion, but could never find it.

Then I heard about the concept of the Renaissance Soul. In her book, Margaret Lobenstine describes a Renaissance Soul as someone "with too many passions to pick just one." She proposes the idea that most people, as far as careers and hobbies go, fall somewhere on the spectrum between two extremes: the Mozarts, who follow one passion with vigor their entire lives, and the Ben Franklins, who dabble in lots of different areas over their lifetime without necessarily committing completely to any one of them. Lobenstine argues that most of us are brought up thinking that the Mozart end of the spectrum is the norm, and that to fail to stick to one interest, settle down, and climb the ladder, is to be considered flighty, floundering, and even lazy, undisciplined, or lacking focus.

But the truth is, many of us are very capable, and beautiful Franklin-type Renaissance Souls. Our wide variety of interests is actually a gift, not a burden or flaw. We like to constantly be challenged, we adapt and learn quickly, and we rarely stop moving. When we begin to excel in one area, instead of continuing to profit on our success, we often pack up and move to a different area of interest.

The Renaissance Soul is all about figuring out how to make this "gift" work for your life in a way that satisfies you personally and financially. I'm a little over halfway through the book, and already feel like a burden has been lifted from my shoulders. I don't believe that my "one true passion" exists anymore, so I can stop wasting time searching for it, and start focusing on filling my life with the many things I do enjoy. The book is full of exercises that have helped me understand the values that are important to me right now, as well as the interests that sound most appealing to me, and I'm now learning how to apply those values and interests in sustainable and practical ways. My favorite thing about the book is that it doesn't force me to narrow down my interests to just a few that work well together and leave it at that. Instead, Lobenstine suggests pursuing a handful of interests at a time, with the freedom to change what is in that handful as needed.

I can't express what a positive change this concept has made in my life, and how much I know it will change my future. No more days spent wallowing in bed, hating myself for not being able to stick to one thing. No more pretending I like something enough to do it full time. No more asking myself, "What's wrong with me?" No more letting life pass me by while I search for my holy grail of careers.

Since I first read The Bell Jar by Slyvia Plath in high school, I have felt like the passage has defined my life perfectly:

"I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet."

Now I know that this comparison is so far from the truth. I can pick as many figs as I want, and have a little bite of each. Some will taste delicious, some bitter. I'll plant clippings of the delicious ones, get rid of the bitter, and at the end of my life, I'll have a whole orchard worth of wonderful, satisfying experiences.