Failure?

All my life I've searched for something I could do really well. Not just sort of well, but really, really well. After 68 years I feel awash in mediocrity.

I've tried education, electronics, mechanics, avionics, aviation, foreign languages, singing, guitar, autoharp, banjo, mandolin, fiddle, golf, shooting, aero/thermodyamics, dog training, computer programming, and woodworking. In all those enterprises, I reached the point where I had to stop and admit to myself that I could become "pretty good," but in order to really achieve, I had to have something else: talent.

Don't let this talk of "Renaissance (wo)men" get to you. It's just another label for somebody who seems to know less and less about more and more until (s)he knows nothing about everything (the generalist). The other side of the pancake is, of course, as the joke goes to completion, one who knows more and more about less and less until (s)he knows everything about nothing (the specialist).

Shouldn't there be one thing... just one... that each person could do really well?

One of my retirement endeavors has been woodworking. I wanted to do a project for the church that would complement my spiritual journey, so I selected one to construct a wooden replica of the labyrinth at Chartres Cathedral that could be used as a meditation guide, held on one's lap while tracing the path with the finger. So far, I have created four prototypes, each one of which has been a failure.

In each, I found myself doing what I considered to be "really good work;" then, in each prototype, I committed a catastrophic error that spoiled the work completely.

What message can I take from this? So far, it has been discouragement. Maybe the failures are experiences for me to overcome through persistence and faith in myself.

So far, I'm still wandering. I can't take this project up again until I have the faith I need to go on for a while. So I'll try to be patient with myself.