Interest and Disinterest

The Art of Choosing

FS1150CT95 - collage on paper - 10 x 9 inches - Cecil Touchon

Interest and Disinterest: The Art of Choosing

There comes a time in every creative life when the proliferation of interests becomes a liability. The world is an alluring maze of curiosities, distractions, and fascinations. Each new intrigue whispers to us, offering a brief spark, a rabbit hole, a possibility. But too many sparks scattered across too many fields never become a fire. And a life lived chasing every interesting thing risks never going deep enough to uncover meaning.

We live in an age of overwhelming possibility—where nearly anything can be explored at the tap of a finger or the click of a mouse. But while possibility expands, attention does not. You only have so much of it. And what you give your attention to, you become.

So the real question is: What are you willing to become?

To walk a path with integrity and depth, you must practice not only the cultivation of interest but also the discipline of disinterest. These are not opposites but companions. Disinterest, in this sense, is not apathy. It is clarity. It is the conscious withdrawal of energy from the nonessential so that your essential work may grow strong.

Interest alone is not enough. Anyone can be interested in something for a moment. What matters is sustained attention—what you water every day, what you protect from weeds and weather, where you place your priorities. That is where excellence comes from.

At any point on your path, you must ask yourself: Where does my true interest lie? What does my work need from me now? What pulls at my soul, not just my curiosity? And what must I relinquish—however tempting or comfortable—to make room for that calling?

Use interest and disinterest as tools. As a knife to cut through the noise. As a compass to steer you away from shallow waters and toward deeper territory. Ask yourself:

• What do I keep doing out of habit that no longer serves me?

• What pulls my time but not my heart?

• What am I willing to sacrifice—not because it is bad, but because something else matters more?

Disinterest is a spiritual act. It is saying no to what does not belong so that your yes can be whole. When you withdraw your attention from distractions—whether they are digital, emotional, or social—you recover your time. And with time, you regain space. And with space, you can finally see what’s been waiting to be created through you.

This practice is not about becoming austere or joyless. It is about becoming available—to your real work, to your deeper rhythm, to the life that only you can live.

So take a look at how you spend your days. Not in judgment, but in quiet inventory. What hours could return to you if you stopped leaking energy into things you don’t truly care about? Could that time be reclaimed for your creative work? For your real questions? For the depth that wants to find you?

In the end, the practice of disinterest is not about neglect. It is about devotion. It is about honoring your time, your life, and your gift by choosing to go where the light is, and leaving the rest behind.