A million years. A million monkeys. Thursday July 4, 2013
As an advertising 'creative' I'm paid to come up with ideas. Often, when I tell others what I do for a living the response is 'Oh, I couldn't do that'.
But everyone has an imagination and, with a little education and application, there's no reason why not. The industry is full of people who have learned the trade and competently do a good job. I trust I'm in that number.
However, there are occasions when I sit in awe at the work of others and think to myself, 'That's brilliant. I really couldn't do that!'. And I'm glad.
So much depression is linked to the sense that we should somehow be more, or better, than we are. And though I suspect, like many reading this, I get drawn in to that trap from time to time, it's truly a hiding to nothing.
And seriously, would we want to be perfect?
Imagine having all the talent to knock out a bestseller, leave Usain Bolt in your wake after a little light training and solve the climate change challenge in the space of a few days.
How underwhelming life would be.
Life's so much richer when we let ourselves be blown away by the brilliance of others. By the things we can never, ever imagine ourselves being able to do or be.
I've just finished reading The Hundred Year Old Man Who Climbed Out Of the Window. A kind of Swedish Forrest Gump. I smiled all the way through. I laughed out loud in public. I even spat tea out on the train. And I can't recall the last time a book had that effect.
Given a million years and the help of a million monkeys at a million typewriters, writing such a novel is beyond me. And though I still have ambitions (though the delusion of becoming the first fortysomething to win the Premier League with Arsenal is still among them) there are things I know will never be able to do or be.
And I'm glad.
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