Ten years ago I was convinced I’d never tire of using my imagination as the vehicle for extended voyages into self-made realms of fantasy and science fiction. Ten years ago I was still actively trying to find time to roleplay with my friends.
Now my dice are in a drawer somewhere and my books are in boxes. I will still read a good novel or watch a good movie, but I haven’t created storylines on my own for some time. My passion as a builder of worlds, an architect of cities, a proxy of peoples, and a conveyor of intrigue seems to have waned.
This is frustratingly evident in my lack of energy and enthusiasm for playing with the kids when they want to create and build and explore. I try to muster interest but my mind is soon drifting on to the intellectually stimulating challenges I face at work.
And herein lies the primary issue: the juju for my imagination has changed. My intellect is getting high on the complex problems and the heady potential of the team.
While this cool in many ways I can’t help but feel that it’s also limiting in the long run. At work I don’t have the same sense of raw creative power that I do when I’m creating worlds and where my only boundaries are the edges of my consciousness.