What skill do you really wish to perform better? What have you already mastered? What is/are the difference/s between the two? What skills really matter in life?
Skiing, volleyball, piano, mindfulness, painting, violin, swimming, sewing, writing–what else comes to mind? When we think of elite athletes, performers, and practitioners, how do we picture them? What do we imagine their daily lives look and feel like? Medicine is referred to as a ‘practice,’ even for our most emeritus professors. When it’s your job, you train and drill for excellence and mastery—like a professional. Read bestselling author Liz Gilbert’s Big Magic to see what it took to finally trust her writing to make her a living.
But what about other stuff? What if nobody’s paying you money, accolades, or even attention for doing something that’s important to you to do—maybe things like self-awareness and –regulation, critical thinking, and all things leadership? Seems to me that you have to be pretty intrinsically motivated to stay on the treadmill of these skills. And hobbies like Hubs’s fly fishing or my sibs’ marathoning—what’s behind that drive for ascendancy and achievement? And what is the payoff for all that practice?
First, when we practice in mundane conditions, we develop the muscle memory to apply when challenge or threat escalates. This is the fundamental mechanism of repetitive drills and exercises—passing, setting, serving, blocking, sprawling, hitting, footwork, ad nauseum. We chunk individual mechanical movements, integrate them in innocuous and clunky simulation, smoothing and polishing along the way, all so that when competition comes around and stakes are high—it’s not so safe anymore—we can bring both calm, confident intuition and excited, anticipatory alertness to meet the task. When I practice asking open, honest questions in friendly, everyday conversations, I’m far more likely to exercise curiosity and slow judgment when encounters turn tense and relationships are at risk. Looking back on a spate of intra- and interpersonal challenges in recent years, and then back farther at the past decade-plus of self-development study, I can see how slow, steady practice has progressively manifested as confidence, competence, and overall relational success.
Second, when we give ourselves the space (physical, mental and other) and time to practice regularly—to make proficiency consistent, autonomous, and masterful—eventually we get to play. During unfocused chord progression exercises, a new melody emerges from the amateur composer’s subconscious. While repeating a basic skill at an advanced level, a player noodles, creating a new method that others then adopt as standard technique. Routine from practice affords exploration and experimentation. We progress from rote imitation to original invention by way of stubborn accomplishment. It’s starting to feel this way for me—that all of this study now gives me the confidence to assert my own ideas for what constitutes a life well lived—Duh-HA!
…Or, practice simply heightens our own enjoyment and personal reward. Either way, life is better, no?
Times are so hard right now. Tempers are short, nerves are frayed. We feel edgy, agitated, hypersensitive. It’s no wonder, with a global pandemic going on two years. Our work, our kids’ schools, and everybody’s lives are disrupted in more complex ways than we can wrap our heads around.
And yet, through it all, we persist. For many of us, it’s not been all bad. We slowed down, reassessed, reprioritized, and emerged with a deeper understanding and appreciation for more simple sources of fulfillment in life. If anything, it’s the connections gained from pandemic living that have saved us, and the disconnections that threaten us most.
Even after the acute scourge of COVID, we will still encounter hardships—strains on our patience with one another, acts of nature out of our control, more short tempers and frayed nerves, relationships at risk. How can we fortify ourselves and one another against despair and withdrawal? We can throw ourselves into work, which may hold us up if our jobs are full of meaning. We can numb with food, alcohol, drugs, sex, and other high risk behaviors.
We need something to fan the flames, however small, of hope and optimism—the faith that we will be okay, that we can handle whatever comes, as long as we do it together. I feel so blessed with such amazing people in my life, friends and family alike. Every day I marvel at how I got so lucky. I’m also reminded that I have a hand in these wonderful connections—I cultivate them on purpose. I learned how from my mom, and I see my kids growing in their skills.
To exercise good humor, find joy, and connect with people through that which uplifts—jokes, memes, comedy, and the like—I think we sometimes underestimate the vital importance of these practices in daily life. It’s too easy to get sucked into darkness, to lose the light. But it’s always there, however faint or dim, if we look. We can always find something to smile and laugh about. We can always offer each other a warm embrace (especially if we are vaccinated, masked, and asymptomatic, and even if we are not).
It’s how we share love, and that’s what keeps us going. When we meet people, even if our own mood is sour, we can choose to smile. That one offer of connection can set the path of any encounter on an upward trajectory, lifting all involved. We can share a funny—oh hey look, I wrote about this for NaBloPoMo last year! 😀 Besides The Big Bang Theory and Nathan Pyle, this year I also recommend Awkward Yeti, Upworthy, and any source that offers joy without judgment.
Let’s all hold each other in a little more light, love, fun, and grace, eh?
In case you have not had your dose today, I just saw this on Facebook now; please enjoy and pass it on:
This starts my 22nd year of teaching middle school. Yesterday was quite possibly one of the most impactful days I have ever had.
I tried a new activity called “The Baggage Activity”. I asked the kids what it meant to have baggage and they mostly said it was hurtful stuff you carry around on your shoulders.
I asked them to write down on a piece of paper what was bothering them, what was heavy on their heart, what was hurting them, etc. No names were to be on a paper. They wadded the paper up, and threw it across the room.
They picked up a piece of paper and took turns reading out loud what their classmate wrote. After a student read a paper, I asked who wrote that, and if they cared to share.
I’m here to tell you, I have never been so moved to tears as what these kids opened up and about and shared with the class.
Things like suicide, parents in prison, drugs in their family, being left by their parents, death, cancer, losing pets (one said their gerbil died cause it was fat, we giggled) and on and on.
The kids who read the papers would cry because what they were reading was tough. The person who shared (if they chose to tell us it was them) would cry sometimes too. It was an emotionally draining day, but I firmly believe my kids will judge a little less, love a little more, and forgive a little faster.
This bag hangs by my door to remind them that we all have baggage. We will leave it at the door. As they left I told them, they are not alone, they are loved, and we have each other’s back.
Healing Through Connection 