As any island fisherman from simpler eras will attest, using a spear to catch a fish that’s stationary and completely visible in the crystal-clear shallow waters around your feet takes practice.
The water’s refraction distorts our physical senses, our optical and GPS tracking and locating micro-processes, and we miss . . . completely by a lot at first . . . with the practicing, the trying, and the seeking to review and learn (not simply repeat, repeat, repeat . . . each missing contributing not to learn about fishing but now about the feelings of hopelessness and hunger (as I do) we can not only catch fish . . . we can also catch a glimpse of something that enlightens us to the truth that there’s a satisfying fullness to this challenge of learning.
More than we realize in the moment . . .
Let’s take the fishing example for another example. As we learned to aim to hit what we were aiming for, we had to “over-rule” our strictly sensory data input by re-calibrating—with practice attempt after practice attempt—to hit what we’re really aiming for through the distortions. Each attempt, as potentially frustrating as it is promising
. . . hopeful . . . and necessary.
We do learn.
We can begin to actually like fishing
And then we miss the next one
And cry ’cause we’re not perfect.