A life without obsession is a life without purpose

If we don't have an obsession, we must keep boosting ourselves with small fixations. Maybe that's how some people work

Last July, I first wrote about this in the piece "How a Caterpillar-Obsessed Professor Changed My Life and Made Me Become a Nomad".

Back then, moving to a new place every month was my obsession. It was so crystal clear that it settled everything else in life.

But many obsessions fade. A few people in the world might want to travel indefinitely, but they're the minority. I discovered that I want to travel a lot and that moving is indeed an obsession, but not necessarily an endless one.

When the obsession fades, you're left in a vacuum again. How do you find a new caterpillar?

We must look honestly at ourselves and those around us and ask, "What is our obsession?"

I have a friend who might be the most obsessive person I've ever met. But he changes his obsession constantly, like in the lyrics of that El Cuarteto de Nos song (here's the English version of the lyrics).

But maybe he's happier than anyone else. His obsession is having an obsession. And so life goes on, moving from goal to goal.

I deeply envy people who are obsessed with soccer or some other sport. Every week, they sit on the couch or head to the stadium to meet their caterpillar in person.

For these obsessives, the rest of life is just a stage leading up to what really matters: cheering for their team.

When that obsession is missing, the rest of life constantly searches for a drive that gives it meaning. Lacking an obsession for long periods can cause anxiety and affect our mental health.

It's important to remember that really liking something differs from having an obsession. I love wandering aimlessly, but I don't think it's an obsession. I love reading and writing, too, but they feel more like personal enjoyment, a hobby, and a professional necessity. Listening to music makes me feel great about the world, but it's far from being an obsession.

However, if we don't have an obsession, we must keep boosting ourselves with these small fixations. Maybe that's how some people function.

Some people's obsessions can change over time. Few are lucky enough to find their caterpillar, like the scientist in my previous story.

That's why I was thrilled by the story shared by Morgana Barbosa, a dear reader of this newsletter.

The first No Direction Home edition I read blew my mind. I immediately realized I'd had several caterpillars in my life, but the one that's lasted the longest is traveling for concerts, combining two big passions. For me, it's an endless pursuit. Watching new artists starting their careers or going on farewell tours gives me the same thrill; it always gives me butterflies.

I need to give some background on how it all started. I must've been around 10 when my older sister went to see Legião Urbana live. I begged to go with her, and she told me the classic line: 'Next time, I'll take you.' But there was no next time because the band's singer passed away shortly after. This sparked a consuming urge in me—a drive to go to every show I could.

The atmosphere of a concert is unique; you live in that moment and carry it with you forever. Years later, you hear a song and feel that same sensory connection to that day. It's pure emotion. It's what motivates me to get up and go to work on a low-energy day.

Before reading that issue, I wouldn't admit it, probably out of shame, but this is my life's motivation. Now, I proudly declare that this is my caterpillar.

And not by chance, I'm writing this on the road to another concert, with butterflies in my stomach and the certainty that it'll be memorable.

And you, what's your caterpillar?