Why We're OBSESSED With Being OBSESSED

Susan Orlean UNPACKS the PLEASURE of the PURSUIT

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MAYBE it's the sold-out Row flats. Maybe it's tropical fish. Maybe it's antique books or Finnish rugs or toothpaste from around the world. (That was mine for a while.) When you are passionate about something, it becomes luminous, a bright light that guides you day-to-day in pursuit.

The object of your affection might seem unimportant or trifling to a disinterested observer, but once you fall for something, it no longer matters what its objective value is. It becomes the center that holds, the order in the chaos. It sifts the fine and endless shower of input—the limitless flood of everyday life—and gives it shape. Obsession sounds dangerous, like quicksand, but in the right amount it's enriching. It provides us with a kind of engine, with inspiration, with a focus that is pure joy.

To be honest, I used to shy away from obsession. I found it uncomfortable to define myself too closely by any interest or hobby or collectible item; I dreaded that inevitable moment when you would transition from being, say, a person who appreciates Jean Paul Gaultier clothing to being a Jean Paul Gaultier Person. At the same time, I sought out people who did exactly that. I was fascinated by orchid collectors, gospel fans, surfing addicts, tiger hoarders. I wanted to understand what drew them so powerfully to their drug of choice. What allowed them to dive so deep? What did that identity provide? So often, the people I wrote about had circled their lives around a passion. It seemed to answer questions that are usually so hard to answer: how to spend time, how to spend money, how to make friends, where to travel, and what to do once they got there. Their devotion made sense out of the often-confusing experience of being alive.