I have to confess to a major misunderstanding of how a person develops. For the longest time I thought of a person as being like a plant or a garden that has to be cultivated. I thought that reading, absorbing and reflecting was the way that a person developed. I thought study and thought led to a moment where everything "clicks" and one attains deep understanding, almost like a vision quest or monk attaining enlightenment or a degree ceremony or something. I was aided in this misconception by a culture that over-values long works of fiction.
Two instances in the past few months have helped me realize that a person’s development is measured not by what is in his or her head but rather by what he or she does, produces or makes.
First, I watched a friend who always had a "project" going on. No matter how small the project or how halting his progress in finishing it, there was always one going on. Eventually there was something to look at or share, some kind of object or demonstration. The same amount of time invested in reading Tolstoy would produce an appallingly repetitive and trite conversation instead.
Second, I thought about the extremely elaborate and detailed description of the world that modern science has established. Earlier civilizations had just as much certainty about their own cosmologies, but the difference is that our current one can be used to accomplish things. Ancient people may have had exquisitely detailed descriptions of their creation and deities and so on, but since it was based on nonsense they could not be used for any particular purpose beyond ritual. Detailed, evidence-based descriptions of the world in terms of cause and effect have advanced marvelously, though the ability to actually put that knowledge to work definitely lags behind the knowledge.
Ultimately I think it is doing and acting that matters. No matter how thoughtful and cultivated someone’s mind is, it remains locked up invisibly in squishy wet brain material until it is expressed in some kind of output that one can share or demonstrate with others.
Included: Theodore Wirth Park one February night. I liked the cross-county skiing, sure, but stopping to crack open my thermos of coffee was the highlight. I was suitably layered so the wet flakes coming down didn’t bother me. With the hills there I had to stop regularly to catch my breath.
pseudoisaac 