On Interest.

Being in the industry I meet a lot of people nowadays who say they're interested in "Coding". I see them a lot. But you can see right through them, right? Just takes a bit of time to spot it but it's quite clear. It's like that coffee stain on their shirt. It's like they are forcing themselves to be interested in something they are not, they know it deep down, but they are just in a state of refusal.

You can see it clearly, it's obvious to you, but to them, they won't acknowledge the elephant in the room.

Meeting with them has taught me one big lesson in life:

You can't make yourself interested in something. If you believe that you're probably lying to yourself, you know it deep down, you've seen it played down your entire life, maybe when you tried to adopt your parent's dreams. Trying to be interested in something that you're clearly not interested in. And it's nothing wrong in doing that. That's not what bugs me.

What's wrong is the lying. Lying to not anyone else, but lying to your own self. That's when you know the situation you're in is bad, like bad bad. Trying to silence and drown that voice inside your head that you know is telling the truth. And the thing is no matter how much you try to drown and suffocated it by holding it down under the water. But it will always manages to survive and just hovers over you like a shadow.

You can always spot that shadow hovering over someone. It's obvious to anyone outside.

Then what is interest?

It is something that manifests itself and just grips you. It's a whole different thing. It is almost something heavenly. Some call it "god's gift" some call it "talent" some name it "personal legend" and some their "dream". And you just know it. You just know it when it grips you.

It almost beckons a part of you, a part of you that you weren't aware of earlier, to just conquer and master the thing that interests you, what you're compelled by.

That is interest.

For me it was what I do, for some people it is painting nude portraits, for others, it might be writing poetry full of hidden sexual innuendos.

Maestro Ben Zander talks about the transformation that happens when a kid actually learns to love music. For one year, two years, even three years, the kid trudges along. He hits every pulse, pounds every note and sweats the whole thing out.

Then he quits.

Except a few. The few with passion. The few who care.

Those kids lean forward and begin to play. They play as if they care, because they do. And as they lean forward, as they connect, they lift themselves off the piano seat, suddenly becoming, as Ben calls them, one-buttock players.

They play as if it matters.

So the real question to ask yourself is: "What are you interested in?"