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Crazy day...
Mar. 21st, 2014 11:24 pmStuff just lined up to take me away from my computer today, and yet despite that I still managed to keyboard more words past my fingertips than yesterday. I'm thinking it doesn't say much for yesterday's results, either.
Still, I'm pretty much where I expected to be, except that there was none of The Routine Stuff™ on the plate today.
* * * I caught a great TED talk by Chris Hadfield, which hammered home something that's actually been throwing itself in my face for a while, and that is the huge difference between "observing" and "doing." Or between learning about a skill and applying that knowledge to perform it.
Hadfield points out something that I had allowed to get dim in my mind, and that's just how much time and effort NASA puts into preparing astronauts both physically and mentally to deal with contingencies. Hadfield used the example of spider webs for his audience, basically saying that after you analyze the hazards associated with spiders and find them acceptable, the next step is to find a way past your "knee-jerk" reaction when you walk into a spider web. My summary is of necessity overly simple; so do yourself a favor and watch his talk.
As it happens, I've recently had my attention directed to the difference between observing and doing over the course of a number of tai chi sessions, because sifu routinely makes various aspects of self-defense look easy—and yes, basically tai chi is a martial art—yet when the time comes for us students to mimic what we have seen... well, I generally start off with a "mulligan," which is to say, my first attempt fails miserably. My follow-on attempts are often not much of an improvement. (That said, I will say, in my defense, that I do keep trying.)
And this contrast between watching and doing takes me back, mentally, to the halcyon days of Marine boot camp, where we few—we happy few, etc.—spent all of just a few hours, when you come down to it, learning how to kill and avoid being killed in hand-to-hand combat. If you consider how the overwhelming majority of that time was spent watching or listening, then the only conclusion one can draw is that somehow, the feeling of competence derived from watching an exhibition of such skills was the whole point of the exercise.
I think I need to think about that some more. There may be a vein, there.
* * * Apropos of TED, I found another interesting talk, by David Steindl-Rast, a Benedictine monk, on the relationship between happiness and gratitude. I definitely need to think about what was said there some more.
So, why did today feel like Saturday?
That'll be something to think about while I sleep. That, and something called "the missing stair."
Cheers...
Still, I'm pretty much where I expected to be, except that there was none of The Routine Stuff™ on the plate today.
Hadfield points out something that I had allowed to get dim in my mind, and that's just how much time and effort NASA puts into preparing astronauts both physically and mentally to deal with contingencies. Hadfield used the example of spider webs for his audience, basically saying that after you analyze the hazards associated with spiders and find them acceptable, the next step is to find a way past your "knee-jerk" reaction when you walk into a spider web. My summary is of necessity overly simple; so do yourself a favor and watch his talk.
As it happens, I've recently had my attention directed to the difference between observing and doing over the course of a number of tai chi sessions, because sifu routinely makes various aspects of self-defense look easy—and yes, basically tai chi is a martial art—yet when the time comes for us students to mimic what we have seen... well, I generally start off with a "mulligan," which is to say, my first attempt fails miserably. My follow-on attempts are often not much of an improvement. (That said, I will say, in my defense, that I do keep trying.)
And this contrast between watching and doing takes me back, mentally, to the halcyon days of Marine boot camp, where we few—we happy few, etc.—spent all of just a few hours, when you come down to it, learning how to kill and avoid being killed in hand-to-hand combat. If you consider how the overwhelming majority of that time was spent watching or listening, then the only conclusion one can draw is that somehow, the feeling of competence derived from watching an exhibition of such skills was the whole point of the exercise.
I think I need to think about that some more. There may be a vein, there.
So, why did today feel like Saturday?
That'll be something to think about while I sleep. That, and something called "the missing stair."
Cheers...
