inspiration

Don’t Practice the Perfect

Posted on May 5, 2012March 6, 2024 by stilllearning2b

As an algebra teacher, I spend much of my day pushing kids beyond what they think they are capable. To no one’s surprise, I am often met with resistance. They would rather practice addition rather than polynomials. They want to practice the perfect.

In the example of algebra students, it is easy to see the absurdity of practicing something one has already mastered to the exclusion of learning something new. However, it is often not so clear in our own lives how frequently we gravitate towards the known rather than explore the edge and delve into the unknown and unmastered. If always do what you know, you will never know anything else. This clicked for me one day in the gym (shocker, I know) when I immediately walked towards the free weights. Again. That was my comfort zone; that was where I knew what I was I doing. Free weights are awesome, but I was slighting myself by not trying anything else. I made a promise to myself to try at least one new exercise machine each visit or try one new move with free weights. And, you know what, I now have added to my “mastered” repertoire and discovered new favorites. If it wasn’t for trying new things, my “I can’t, won’t and I’ll never” list wouldn’t exist and my life would be much duller.

It is comfortable to practice the perfected and scary to be vulnerable by trying something new. We often make excuses, promising to practice something once we improve at it. Think about that. That is like saying I meditate because I have a calm mind, rather than I meditate to have a calm mind. Or, I’m not flexible enough to do yoga, rather than I do yoga to become flexible. Just rearranging those few words entirely shifts the focus and intent of the practice. Th only way to improve is to practice the imperfect.

We often need a push, either internal or external, to delve into the new. Start by being honest with yourself about how you stay in your comfort zone. Then, make a committment to grow in one or more areas. If it helps, try picturing your algebra teacher pushing you along the way:)

Here are some suggestions to help you break out of practicing the perfect:

-Surround yourself with people that have knowledge and interests that differ from yours.

-Sign up for a class. The YMCA and park services usually offer some low-cost and low-committment classes.

-Take suggestions from or just spend time with a kid; they’re usually fearless when it comes to trying new experiences.

-If you’re concerned about trying a new class, start with a similar version designed for the elderly. The welcoming environment and shared wisdom will immediately put you at ease.

-Find someone who can struggle through with you. My students benefit from seeing others in the same boat.

-Find a way to record your progress along the way. Seeing improvement is a huge motivator.

It’s time to stop practicing addition and move on to something that will challenge you to grow. And, no, it doesn’t have to be polynomials.

The Garden

Posted on May 4, 2012 by stilllearning2b

In my old life I had a garden.

When we first moved into our home, the 1 acre yard was a motley medley of scraggly grass and tenacious weeds; too wet to mow and too shady for grass to thrive. It was a blank canvas. Slowly, I began to paint, using the medium of small starter plants, tree seedlings obtained from the forestry department, and cuttings and divisions nurtured from friends and neighbors.

I had a vision of a magical woodland retreat, filled with the soft haze of ferns and the subtle flowers of the understory. For years, this image existed only in my head, the reality of small, young plants planted in a vast, weed-strewn yard looked nothing like a garden. I spent hours on the weekends and after work attacking weeds and planting replacements. On days when the weather was prohibitive, I would research plants and growing conditions. I made annual treks to a budget nursery in a nearby town, filling my car to the bursting points with dreams held in the bright green folds of new growth.

But slowly, it emerged. I watched 2 foot bald cypress saplings grow to 30 foot trees. Ferns and hostas spread their roots far and wide under the protective shade of the understory. Hydrangea proudly held their blooms high, as though no longer ashamed of their companions. Colors would come and go throughout the weeks: daylilies, Lenten rose, iris, geraniums, azaleas. Their spectacular shows provided endless variety and interest.

From February through November, I would begin most every day with a walk along the stone path, through the pergolas, and over the boardwalk. Examining the new growth,watching the wildlife, reveling in the beauty of the plants. On the weekends, I would bring my papers to grade out to one of the hammocks to enjoy the breezes through the leaves and the interplay of light and shadow.

In my old life I had a garden.

It was painful to walk away from my plants, nurtured for so many years. I found myself staring at plants around town wistfully, thinking of their counterparts in my yard. As with much of my transition, it was painful, but also freeing. I no longer had to worry about the assaults of deer, the dangers of a last freeze, or the effects of a flood. My weekends were not filled with weeding. My hands no longer frozen from the cold February soil.

But still, I mourned my plants. I purchased a pass to the botanical gardens and promised myself a monthly visit. Now, I walk their perfectly manicured paths and appreciate the beauty created by teams of professionals. The gardens are stunning, but it’s not the same as one created by my own labor. My own dreams.

In my old life I had a garden.

The last few years, my nurturing energies have been turned inwards, helping myself to grow and thrive. I have tried to eliminate the weeds, start new plantings, and encourage growth. I have become my own garden.

Ten Lessons I am Still Learning

Posted on April 29, 2012 by stilllearning2b

Boston - Boston Common: Parkman Plaza - Learning (Photo credit: wallyg)

One of the things I love most about my partner is that he sees himself as a perpetual student; he is always willing and eager to learn something new, even in an area where he is considered an expert.

Last year, we were out at dinner with a group of friends. One of our friend’s 8 year son opened the conversation with my boyfriend.

“Do you have a black belt?” the boy asked eagerly.

“I do,” came the reply.

“Actually, he has several,” interjected the boy’s dad.

“Wow! Does that mean you know everything?”

“Actually, a black belt means that you are ready to begin learning.”

I loved that response. It serves as a reminder to me to always be open to learning more, especially in those areas where I already have knowledge.

In that spirit, here are ten lessons that I am still learning:

1) Life doesn’t just have two speeds – on and off. It is not only possible to go slowly, but sometimes it is preferable.

2) It is okay not to be the first one at work; stuff still manages to get done even if I arrive after the custodians.

3) I’m working on learning to sleep past 6:00 am and considering the possibility of mastering the power nap.

4) A messy kitchen does not mean a chaotic life. It just means that people actually live in our house.

5) Sometimes it is okay for the play to come before the work. (I got this one from my dog)

6) I am still working on going downhill on wheels (bikes, skates, etc.). I just don’t trust those things!

7) Stretching is worthwhile exercise even if is doesn’t work up a sweat.

8) It is okay to relax.

9) Money will be there; I don’t need to get too stressed about it.

10) Always take time to appreciate what you have and remember to express your gratitude. Especially when the kitchen is messy.

Mobius Mind

Posted on April 23, 2012 by stilllearning2b

Do you ever feel as though you are stuck in an endless loop, replaying your past a la Groundhog Day, in your mind? It is all too easy to become stuck on a mental Möbius strip, an endless loop with only side. In this pattern, you are revisiting the past, perhaps assigning blame or experiencing guilt, but achieving no outcomes, no benefits. We play the “what if” game as if we are living within a choose your own adventure novel where we can simply go back and choose another path to follow.

How do we get off the never-ending ride of the Möbius mind? The first step is to recognize that you are stuck on an endless feedback loop, acknowledge your mental playback. Next, look at your patterns; where are you focusing? What triggers your thoughts? What events are central to this repeat performance? The reason this replays in your mind is that you have not yet gone deep enough into your feelings surrounding the event. You have not learned the lessons central to the story, so your mind is replaying it again and again hoping that the repetition will allow you to learn. Yes, the mind is a relentless teacher.

Go where it is uncomfortable. Acknowledge your responsibility. Your pain. Your shame. Your anger. Your fear. Learn from it. And then let it go. When you face the emotions triggered by the past head-on and then release them, you will find that your Möbius strip unravels and allows you to move on and continue your adventure.

Learning to go Downhill

Posted on April 21, 2012March 6, 2024 by stilllearning2b

I’ve never been very good at going downhill.

I was bribed with banana splits to encourage me to learn how to ride a bike. I was ten. I still am not comfortable on a bike; the slightest decline inspires panic and usually results in a dismount and walk. I used to think I could roller blade when I lived in San Antonio. It turns out that San Antonio is flat. Really flat. As soon as I took my “skills” to other less elevation-challenged cities, I realized that I really had no skill at all. But I did have a really sore behind. When I drive my standard-transmission car on the downside of a hill, I inevitably downshift beyond what is necessary. Even while running (look ma, no wheels!), I power up the hills and slow down on the decent.

I’m not sure what it is about hills that causes me pause. I know I get panicky, afraid that the situation will get out of control. It seems like any slight miscalculation is amplified through momentum, the snowball gaining size as it tumbles down the slope. Perhaps I don’t trust progress made that is not under my own power. Maybe I just need to learn to surrender to gravity.

I’ve tried to address this shortcoming at various times with varying degrees of success (okay, really with varying degrees of failure), but I have never fully committed to the cause. My recent work on taming my monkey mind has encourage me to attempt a different approach. Maybe I need to work to calm my mind before the downhill attempt and focus on breathing throughout. This is where I struggle, as the inevitable increase in speed on a decent makes me feel as though my mind and breathe must also increase so as to keep up. My brain doesn’t seem to understand that acceleration due to gravity does not have to apply to breath.

Who knows, maybe one day, I will learn to delight in the respite a downhill can provide. Until then, I think I’ll stick to the bunny slopes and stay low to the ground.

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