“If we did all the things we are capable of, we would literally astound ourselves.”

– Thomas Alva Edison

Thomas Edison was a remarkable man.  We tend to think of him as possessing a sort of genius that others might aspire to but never attain.  What sort of remarkable mind can invent so many new ideas that they lead to more than 1000 patents?  As I read the things Edison has to say about his process, I see such things as:

“I never failed once.  It just happened to be a 2000-step process.”

“Our greatest weakness lies in giving up.  The most certain way to succeed is always to try just one more time.

He also says that everything he ever did was fun.  Fun.  Do you bring that attitude of excitement and enjoyment to the parts of life that challenge you to stretch beyond your current limits?

We are the generation of instant gratification.  We have lost our ability to embrace the process in our desire to see results — right now.  As I read the things Edison had to say, I tried to remember the last time I did something that required me to embrace a long process, endure failed attempts, renew my enthusiasm, and ultimately succeed.  I suppose I could make some analogy to child-rearing, but I’m not sure that would be fair, since children tend to find their own energy and take over the process long before the parents see it through to completion.  Sadly, the best example I could find was working a jigsaw puzzle.  Now there is something that taxes my brain, feels like fun even though it is challenging, and causes me to persist in trial-and-error until I reach my goal.  It seems a bit trivial to talk about jigsaw puzzles in the same breath with Edison’s thousand useful inventions, but I do believe that the process may be related.

I ask myself what kind of puzzler I might be.  Am I the one who chooses a 25-piece puzzle because I have better things to do and little time to invest in meeting a challenge?  Do I choose a 500-piece puzzle and stick with something within the boundaries of previous success and predictability?  My mother taught me to assemble the straight edge pieces first, beginning with the corners, so that my work would lie within a framework that would define it.  What have I taken with me from learning to work inside the lines?  There are things I would like to accomplish — dreams I would like to pursue — that I have not yet managed to produce.  At least three full-length books clatter around in my mind, begging to be brought to life.  Is the problem that I am looking for a 25-piece puzzle instead of challenging myself?  Am I trying to make something new and more far-reaching fit within the boundaries where I have lived my life so far?

Maybe it is time to do a puzzle with a mountain of pieces that are not defined by a number.  Maybe it is time to start with random pieces and work my way in all directions — and maybe the edge will not be straight if I ever find it.  As I write these words, a restless excitement begins to grow in me.  There is creative energy that is begging me to release it and to stay with the process until I discover what it is that I have to invent.  I envision sleepless nights ahead with my mind filled with the excitement of working and re-working an idea.  I picture frustration and needing to re-think things again and again; and I wonder whether I can maintain the enthusiasm that will make it fun.

We all have dreams.  Maybe the difference between someone like Edison and the rest of us is the willingness to accept that our dreams may come to be after 2,000 attempts.  We don’t like to feel the unsettling feeling of hitting a wall and needing to begin again; but Edison tells us that restlessness may be a good thing.  He says:

“Restlessness is discontent and discontent is the first necessity of progress.  Show me a thoroughly satisfied man, and I will show you a failure.”

We need to learn, once again, that it is the process — the sometimes painful process — that will give birth to the dreams we bring to our world.  We must harness our restlessness and know that it is the catalyst for progress.  Once we become satisfied with our present boundaries, we can no longer hope to grow.