A few years ago, I thought it would be fun to get into camping. I live in New Zealand! How can I not? I daydreamed about it, picturing how much fun it could be. I read a book about it.
I carefully picked out then bought some highly-recommended gear: a tent, two sleeping bags, two air mattresses, and a light backpack.
We used it once. It’s still in my garage.
…
Last year, I thought it would be fun to get a Maschine.
A new way of making music! I daydreamed about it, picturing how much fun it could be. I read about it and watched videos about it.
After a few weeks of this, I felt the time was right. I bought one. I played with it a while for the first day, then got back to my normal life, intending to spend more time with it. But I never did.
Every day I would look at it, thinking I should use it. After half a year, I gave up, and gave it to a friend.
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Last week, I thought it would be fun to get a new bicycle.
I’ve never tried a carbon frame, modern gearing, or any of the cool new developments in bicycle tech. I live in Oxford, a cycling city! How can I not?
I’ve been daydreaming about it, picturing how much fun it could be.
Wait! Hold on. Have I learned nothing?
So I tried picturing the downside, instead.
I pictured myself not using it, like the camping gear, Maschine, and other things I didn’t mention here. I remembered the pain of guilt, regret, and waste. The conflicted feelings of wanting this thing, but not quite enough.
And I decided against it.
…
That said, I’m not sure what to conclude.
The only mistake was buying instead of renting?
Give up on trying new things, and just amplify my current focus?
Daydream and learn all about new things, but stop thinking I need to own them? (Awareness is enough for me?)
Or maybe the mistake was giving up? Building new habits takes time and effort. After that initial challenge, my life could be richer by the expanded activities in my repertoire.
Something else?
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