If you've ever given up on something, open this.

Have you ever deeply loved something, and then somehow stopped doing it? Have you quit and regretted it? 

Maybe it was a hobby you didn't have time for anymore, a sport you had to stop practicing because of an injury, or a language you lost the motivation to study.

I know I do. At different points in my life, I've stopped:

• writing

• going to the gym

• learning Italian

• crocheting

• reading for pleasure

• playing piano

• and the list could go on and on

This used to make me feel guilty.

I felt like somehow, I'd created a separation from them. Like I had built this invisible wall that was impossible to trespass. It felt like since I'd stopped, either by chance or choice, I didn't deserve to go back to it as if nothing happened.

Believing this made me miserable.

Until one day, I learned it didn't have to be this way.

Back in college, my friend Julio was talking about how he had stopped doing something (if I remember correctly, he was learning Russian.) He said, in a very light way, he'd eventually get back into it. Another person at the table scoffed at him "sure. That's what we all say, but you probably won't."

His answer changed everything for me.

"No, I will. I still love it. It's just not at the top of my priorities now. But I'll make the space for it." He went on to say how this happened to him a lot since he liked a lot of different things.

Day to day, he had to choose which ones were at the top of his priorities for this season of his life. But that didn't mean he had stopped loving the others, or quit them for life. And he knew he could simply get back into them when the time felt right. Or when he felt the spark to do it again.

What amazed me most was how freely he said all this. There was no guilt in stopping, and no fear in starting again.

I pondered over this for the rest of lunch.

Trying for myself

Eventually, I decided Julio was right.

There I was, self-imposing a lifelong loss of habits and hobbies I had once loved, simply because I couldn't forgive myself for stopping. But maybe, just maybe, there was another way. 

That week, I decided to pick up crochet, which I hadn't done in about ten years. I had to relearn every stitch, but it was a lot easier at 19 than it had been at 9. I could read patterns now! I could design whatever I wanted! I actually understood it, instead of just going through the motions.

It was fun, and exciting, and resulted in a great source of joy for me. It became my source of relaxation really fast.

Until I lost the habit again.

But this time, I knew better.

I didn't quit, I just took a break.

I didn't wait ten years to try again, but a little over ten months. Yesterday, I picked up a crochet hook and started a project for the first time since February. This time, I hadn't forgotten the stitches or skills.

And there it was, waiting for me, happy to have me paying a visit. 

I don't know if I'm going to start crocheting again like I used to. 

But that doesn't matter. What matters is I know I can if I want to, either right now or in another year. What matters is I'm letting myself do it with no guilt attached.

And there is incredible freedom in that.

The Shelf

I've turned how I see this into an image to make it easier to understand.

There is a shelf, and there is a small table next to it. On the shelf, I have every habit or hobby I have ever loved. On the table, I have the habits or hobbies I am practicing right now. Since the table is smaller than the shelf, there is no way all my hobbies will fit on it.

Putting something on the shelf doesn't mean you are quitting it. It just means you are saving it for later.

It is unreasonable to try to do it all at the same time. 

It's a sure path to hating what you love and burning out.

But that doesn't mean you have to throw away everything you love! You can simply keep it on the shelf. And it will be there, waiting for you to come take it out. It will hold no resentment if you leave it there for ten years, it won't abandon you.

What you love will always be happy to see you.

A Reminder

I wrote this newsletter because as the new year approaches, many of us are thinking about what we want to do next year.

We're thinking about the hobbies and habits we want to start practicing. About the people we want to become. 

I wanted to remind you that your shelf is there. And that you can access it. Consider taking back something you used to love. And do it without guilt, without pressure. Do it with love and curiosity, and see a world of joy unfold.

What you have loved, loves you. And what you have loved will always be happy to see you again.

Give it a chance to surprise you.

Art Recs'

1. Song: Running with the Wolves - Aurora. This is a song that makes me feel like running barefoot through a forest. Specifically, the WolfWalkers Version.

I hope this week, Christmas feels like Christmas. I hope you get time to be with your loved ones, and I hope you get a chance to rest. 

See you next Wednesday for the last edition of the year!

-Vale, The Friendly Artist.