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.

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