The Infamous Lull

I remember sitting in a communications class sophomore year, led by the wonderful Karl Simmons, and he said something quite insightful. He was talking about brainstorming. He said that the initial moment of brainstorming will usually involve a lot of voices. The creativity is alive and well for about 15 minutes or so. Then comes that haunting silence known as (DUHN DUHN DUHN!!!) the lull.

"But the key thing to remember," he had said. "Is that you have to outlast the lull!"

The best ideas are known to come after the quiet. The awkward. As these are the ideas that form after much more thought than the initial ones. Sometimes they piggyback off of previous thoughts, or sometimes they're new all together. More often than not, they are the golden nuggets for whatever it is you may be planning.

(disregarding the numbers, this is a similar line graph that my professor had drawn on the board explaining the brainstorming process)

And so, I'm contemplating whether said lull relates to more than just brainstorming. I see it, for instance, playing out in relationships. The initial moments of getting to know someone are always interesting (given the hope that both people are mutually interested in getting to know each other, that is). But then there is that moment, where maybe things get.. a little..

boring.

There. I said it. You can join me by nodding in agreement, because I know you've been there too.

The two people have spent a lot of quality time together, but now there is a need for space. Perhaps they've gotten sick of each other. Perhaps it's all just a little overwhelming. Or maybe it's something else completely (hey, I'm no expert!).

Yet friendships, as it is with ogres, have layers.

Unfortunately, I feel like the tendency post-lull is to find someone new, because getting to know someone past his/her shell can mean a lot more effort will need to be made on your part (selfishly speaking that is, because the burden bearing is probably shared). It is so much easier to just move from one person to the next.

But with the lull concept, I'm also thinking about hobbies. For instance, learning a new instrument. Let's take the saxophone (wink). The beginning of a thing is fresh--nothing quite like the experience of holding a semi-used Bundy Alto Saxophone in your hands for the first time. The dreams that come with it too, can bring goosebumps. It's always fun at first. sigh..

What would it look like though, to persevere? Staying in a friendship would mean enduring through the trials and errors (notice the use of plural?). Staying true to an instrument would mean practicing even when you didn't want to, because it's more important to keep going than to quit.

However, we prefer the end goal more than the fight to get there. When someone begins training for a marathon, he/she often solely sees the screaming fans as the person crosses the finish line. Somehow, we too easily miss the weeks if not months of running in rain, cold or shine. The suffering lungs. The moments where you just want to kill someone! Anything, you think, but another moment of feet pounding upon pavement!!!

All of it goes back to journey talk. As seems to be on replay in my head, "It's the process and not the destination." I've mentioned something like this before.

But not only is the lull part of the process, but outlasting the lull suggests something better than before. Working harder at a friendship seems to me that it would equal a better friendship. You understand each other better; you know how best to suit each other's needs. And continuing to practice, practice, practice.. ought to lead to a better saxophonist. Right?

I understand that people are more complicated than a line graph. Even Sheldon Cooper has tried to reduce it to this:People don't actually fall into a linear, or in this case an algorithmic, path. People are very, very complicated. I just wonder if there is a possibility that the lull can relate, and so I write it down so I don't forget. Who knows what I'll think later, after even more experience with friendships, eh?