#66: Enthusiasm isn't just for kids.

Learning the drums, Taylor Swift, and other things I enjoy for no reason.

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“Oh my god, mom, enough already!!” 

Kendall furtively looked over her shoulder to see if anyone in the restaurant could have possibly missed what I had said.

“I’ve been googling small kits, like the one that band had in Colorado. Can I show you what I found?”

She’d heard this before, but in the confines of our own home. This was the first time she’d had to bear me publicly admitting I wanted to learn to play the drums.

It’s not like my dream has been a secret. In the last year, I’ve purchased a set of drum sticks from the local music store. I told Kendall’s best friend my plan. I watched Count Me In on Netflix a dozen times, along with every YouTube video I could find on Taylor Hawkins (RIP). I’ve even been practicing my air-drum-playing in the car to Queen’s Radio Ga Ga. Kendall had stomached all of it. But this? This was too much — the final unforgivable sin of sharing my dream excitedly at volume 10 in the middle of a crowded restaurant. 

Drum sticks easily accessible in the kitchen drawer!

“This is beyond weird. The drums? I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Especially not in public.”

Enthusiasm over anything other than a sports team? Dorky. Embarrassing. Shameful.

Shut it down.

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I’ve had many a quirky, out-of-the-mainstream dream. 

Backpacking through Scandinavia, getting a late-in-life Econ PhD, living in Antarctica.

However, until recently very few of these ideas made it off the cutting room floor… even without Kendall’s “help”. For the last forty-odd years, anything that didn’t directly contribute to my goals I’ve kiboshed as silly or frivolous.

Goodbye enjoyment of life, hello adulthood. This is just how the world works… right? As you get older, you have less time for fun things because you are too busy with serious things like email and retirement plans and oil changes. Aka watching your life get narrower before your very eyes, but pretending everything is great.

Meanwhile enthusiasm, the emotion that could turn everything around, is looked down upon. Enthusiasts — whether of model trains, dog breeds, or Taylor Swift — are judged as a little kooky at best. And at worst, they are seen as time-wasting wack-a-doodles contributing nothing to the world. (Except for sports. Being a sports enthusiast makes you manly and cool.)

So why are we so afraid to be enthusiastic?

What is so godawful about “having or showing intense and eager enjoyment”, as the Oxford Dictionary puts it?

1. We don’t want people to think we care too much about something.

Showing we care about something more than is “normal” makes us an outlier. A weirdo. Then, the ‘in crowd’ (as if such a group really existed) might ex-communicate us and we’ll die alone. Conformity wins the day and we tamp down what makes our heart sing.

2. We don’t like feeling so much… of anything.

Even though enthusiasm is generally a pleasant emotion, it can be overwhelming. And since it’s a feeling rather than a logical decision, it makes us feel like we are out of control. When we let enthusiasm take over, our rational minds have to take a backseat. So shutting down enthusiasm and trading it back for control seems safer. And joyless. But we’ve learned to live without joy, right? So what’s the big deal? 

3. Enthusiasm is unrealistic.

There’s no room for the goofy magic of a nonsensical passion. We are too busy worrying about the kids (been there!), the job (been there!), the bad things that can happen in life (been there, done that!) to loosen up enough to enjoy a light-hearted pastime. Excitement feels like a stretch. Enthusiasm is surely unattainable. 

Seems like enthusiasts have a whole lot more courage than the rest of us.

Did I mention that I’m also a Swiftie?

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I don’t think everyone needs to lose their spouse, part ways with their job, and totally redefine their identity to reclaim enthusiasm…

But it’s working for me!

I’m 55 and retired. I’ve got no public image to manage, no mile-long to-do lists, and kids who are rarely home to roll their eyes at my antics. Plus, if no one’s life is on the line, I give no f*cks. The world is my drum kit.

However, all my cockamamie hobbies are just conduits for what I’m really after — being unapologetically engaged in something that makes me feel alive.

As pumped as I am to head bang like Dave Grohl, I am mostly enthusiastic about enthusiasm! I’m excited for excitement's sake. I’m done being a stiff, grumpy, practical aka pessimistic adult. It’s not that fun and, contrary to popular grown-up opinion, I don’t think it’s helping anyone.

When I’m enthusiastic, not only am I more alive, I am also more compassionate, more open-minded, more patient, more supportive, more dedicated. Enthusiasm might make me seem a little kooky, but it also brings out the best in me.

This is the version of myself that I want showing up to the “let’s change the world” party.

Please invite me to this party.

Enthusiasm’s fundamental purity and honesty bring me back to what lights me up. It’s like I’m plugged into the sun, radiating joy and potential. Self-imposed limits fall away — “I don’t have time. It’s not important enough. What will the neighbors say?” — and the feeling is contagious.

The more I’m in touch with the child-like energy of enthusiasm, the more I can spread it to others. It’s like my excitement leapfrogs, lily pad to lily pad, to the people in my orbit. They don’t just get a better hug, a better story, a better listening ear. They get a spark to ignite the flame of their own enthusiasm, then they take it from there.

I realize I’m trading in pantsuits for drum sticks, international meetings for purposefully frivolous activities, and now I’m talking about the impact I can have.

But the world has so many serious people in serious suits. I think it would do society some good if we could lighten up a bit, take ourselves less seriously, and maybe even enjoy life sometimes.

So how about I count you in?

Ba-dum-tuss,

(It’s a drum joke in case you missed it.)

Sheila E, Prince’s drummer.

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