Throughout my life, I have often discounted whatever came easy to me, as unworthy or value-less. These days my mind begins to wander. I fantasize about herding sheep in New Zealand. It's not that the technology itself is easy, nor that I've solved the bulk of the difficult parts. Not even close. There's work there to be done for decades.
But I feel a bit like my gradeschool self wondering why the teacher wants us to endlessly repeat the tasks we've already mastered. Yes, I know how to multiply 4x3... and 3x4, and 12x8, and 6X9, and 33X627... and. What more will I learn by doing it again, with ceaseless variations?
I realize to keep going in my business, I'll need to prepare and submit more grant and contract proposals, and negotiate collaborations and sales in the commercial arena, and I'll need to hire more staff. It's all still very early stage. Part of me still resents the summary dismissal I received from the Academy, because fundamental research is exceedingly difficult to conduct on a for-profit basis.
My problem is Easy Syndrome is part striving for novelty and challenge, part laziness. It's work to prepare proposals, and keep justifying the worthiness of our efforts, preparing demonstrations that give enough of a taste of the potential of the work to keep others interested.
It's a lot like auditions. No matter how well you performed in your last show, you're starting over, once it's done. Haven't I proven myself already? Do I have to do it again?
Truth is, yes... I do. And so... the green hills of New Zealand seem oh so appealing.