Unrealized Passions Are Like Buried Gold Mines
On the importance of failure, experimentation and just doing the thing yourself, sparked by the tale of a contractor who dug a money pit through my backyard
The lay of Kentucky’s land is full of surprises. Its first gift arrived shortly after buying the farm. A flash flood? Oh, Kentucky — you shouldn’t have! It was the first deluge the area had seen in years. What a home warming present.
Naturally, I hired a contractor to move dirt around and barricade blow outs. I assumed I couldn’t fix it myself. That’s when surprise number two struck.
My contractor turned out to be the digger of a money pit rather than the fixer I needed him to be. He’d fit right in with Oak Island’s real “money pit” people, but I digress. Hindsight is twenty-twenty.
He claimed he could help, along with, “I won’t charge you an arm and a leg for it.” I hired him then and there—so it began.
I watched from the kitchen window as he’d whir back and forth in his skid steer, toting tons of dirt here or there, then forming it into barriers against flood-prone areas near the creek.
The job didn’t take very long. The weekend ended, along with his work. Of course, it was touted a “job well-done”. But then came the final surprise.
He dropped a bill on me that rivaled the tonnage of dirt he moved. The financial impact set my plans back years, but at least the work looked like it would hold.
It didn’t.
The first major rainfall sloshed his barriers away. It was easy to see why, as I imagined my dollar bills washing away with the mud; water was doing what the contractor couldn’t — efficiently moving dirt.
The guy created the world’s most erodible man-made riverbank!
My piggy bank was drained but, something had to be done or my barn would be at risk. Hiring another contractor was out of the question, though. I eyed my collection of shovels and rusty old wheelbarrow. It was my turn to stem the literal tide. The prospect of it all was intimidating.
Would I — definitely not a contractor — be silly to try?
A few YouTube tutorials later and my new identity emerged: Foolhardy DIYer.
Turns out that actually doing something is the best way to learn how not to do it. That process of failure eventually leads to discovering the best way to finally get it done.
The best way for my project? Dirt would stay put with the help of rebar and cement. Seeping water was blocked.
The process of figuring it all outgrew warm feelings. Contentment. Pride. Simply put — it made me happy. I wanted more.
The disaster turned out to be a blessing in disguise. A newly found love for working with my own two hands emerged — a passion that might have gone unrealized otherwise.
It got me thinking, though. What if I hadn’t taken on the job? Would my passion to DIY still be buried somewhere in that dirt?
It’s clear that certain activities just “click” with certain people but, what if those activities are never exposed to the people they click with in the first place?
As I asked earlier — would a passion of mine still be buried if I hadn’t tried to fix my own flooding problem?
I believe that there’s a lot of unrealized passion hidden in this world. Experiencing how close I was to completely overlooking one of my own reinforces that.
What if a person who naturally clicks with baking never knows they love it because they buy cakes at a bakery rather than try to mix the buttercream themselves? That’s an unrealized passion, right there.
That then leads me to consider why people don’t try new things, yet complain that life feels boring and meaningless while chugging along at the same-old, same-old.
Take baking. Why don’t I do it?
I don’t bake because I feel that I would bake something spew worthy rather than chew worthy. My family might hide their grimaces, all while trying to convince me that it’s not that much of a failure. My cement mix probably tasted better than a few of my failed cake batters.
So—it's simple. People don’t try new things for fear of failing.
Failure. Now, that’s an interesting demotivator.
When people say to “just live life," the first thing that comes to mind is failure. For some reason, through my thirty-odd years on this Earth, my neurons have equaled living life with failure.
I admit that statement comes across as bleak. Let me explain why it isn’t:
Partaking in experiences usually means stumbling through a learning curve. Learning curves come with failures—big or small. So, “just living life” requires having experiences, even failing ones.
Failure’s a good thing. It’s a gift, but it’s wrapped with a deceptively negative bow.
Failure means I’m at least trying something once. I’m experimenting. I’m troubleshooting what might be a passion, or something I want to avoid for the time being. Mistakes mean learning.
Failure has opened doors to those things that just click. Similarly, it slammed my baking door shut. Mixing cake batter just isn’t for me.
Was I afraid to botch my property by making an absolute mess of my DIY digging? Yes. But, I did it anyway and it paid off by exposing me to a new passion that energizes me.
My dirt toting taught me to lean into failure rather than fear it.
I’m writing this because I feel that there’s a lot of passion left buried in this world. Those gold mines of joy are buried by lack of exposure and fear of failure. I want to see them prospected.
Apathy — lack of interest, or concern— often springs from those complaints of a humdrum life. Lack of meaningful change within that life, too. It creeps its way through the minds of people harboring too many unopened doors.
Helen Keller even said apathy is “the worst of them all.” Now there’s a passionate woman. Women’s rights fighter, advocate for the blind and philosopher of war’s effects on society— her open doors were many.
While Keller believed that science had no cure for apathy, I believe that it’s passion that brings back interest once lost. Finding things to be passionate about fights apathy — not just for ourselves, but eventually for others, too. The world is better for it.
Humans need and seek meaning; that quest makes it well worth it to seek new experiences, too.
So live life! Make safe mistakes. Do the thing. Break free from the convenience of the many screens that accompany us through daily life. Give in to those curious inklings that draw you to them, even if they seem scary.
My situation was scary at first. I was afraid to fail. Repeatedly failing was what eventually built that barrier, though. It was unwelcome surprise after welcome surprise until something clicked, and my love of fixing things emerged.
My life has been a revolving door of projects since then. Each one brings me new joy which, in turn, positively affects those within my circle. I’m hoping that positivity will continue to ripple outwards, too.
In the end, that uncovered passion was the best surprise of all, and while Kentucky’s wild lands are full of surprises, I’m not sure she’ll ever top that one.
Thank you so much for reading.
Keep the magic alive—Elle.
It looks like a wonderful world where u live! And well done you for keeping at something that was difficult - so many would give up. Re trying something and realizing u like it - happened to me where horses are concerned and gardening! :-D
Very inspiring. Thank you for sharing your experience. You did a beautiful job and built confidence in yourself as well.