#327 Not everyone learns the same way
Not everyone learns the same way.
But one thing’s for sure: whether it’s practicing a foreign language, playing an instrument, or studying for an examyou’d learn more if you’d practice a little every day.
Not everyone learns the same way.
But one thing’s for sure: whether it’s practicing a foreign language, playing an instrument, or studying for an examyou’d learn more if you’d practice a little every day.
Memory is context – in language and in general.
Context of words surrounded by other words and sounds within a sentence.
Context of words surrounded by actions – actor, action, object affected (in whatever way or order your mother tongue expresses it).
Context of words and the images they spur.
Context of words and the feelings they evoke.
When learning another language, you can link words to the context of your mother tongue.
But to truly understand them, you’ll have to create a new context too.
For example, an apple in Spanish: una manzana.
Seemingly the same object, now perceived through new sounds.
New actions.
New images.
New feelings.
Keeping all that in mind, are we really still talking about the same object? Is the Spanish manzana encerada that made me sick in Spanish the same as the apple my grandpa helped me pick? If it is, do I now have a richer perception of that object that once up on a time, I could only interact with through the limits of one language?
Learning vocabulary lists with isolated words will never get you fluent in a foreign language.
If you don’t build a new context of sounds, actions, images, feelings, you’ll always keep imposing your mother tongue on the foreign language.
That’s why you can’t just learn a foreign language. You have to live it.
How painful is it not to do what you secretly know is good for you? What do you stand to lose?
How amazing does it feel to do what you secretly know is good for you? What do you stand to gain?
Admiring (flawed) early work is easy when we already know the late work is going to be great.
Everyone forgives Picasso or Da Vinci for a lousy early sketch. In fact, people pay good money to hang one in their living room.
Maybe the early work, showing that even the greats are mere mortals on a journey towards excellence, is the most valuable?
And yet, it’s much harder to be gentle on a beginning artist for shipping mediocre creative work – not in the least for the beginning artist themselves – when their path to excellence hasn’t unfolded yet.
After all, something that one day will be “my early work” is still “my current best work” today.
The road to excellence is invisible from the trenches.
But that doesn’t mean it isn’t there.
Which makes me wonder…
When I know that through persistence and daily practice, one day, I’ll look back on today’s creation, smiling, thinking: “Oh how far I’ve come… How much I’ve learned… And some of this was actually pretty good…”
Can I admire my creative work less for what it looks, feels, or sounds like, and more for who I’m becoming through making it?
Can I do the same for the creative projects of others?
With that mindset… How much easier and forgiving would the daily creative journey be?
Most of your daily actions are guided by unconscious patterns and habits. But since actions overrule thoughts, even unconscious actions contribute to how you see yourself.
The more conscious actions you take, the more of a say you get in who you are (or want to be).
I choose to do ………… because I choose to be someone who …………
I choose not to do ………… because I choose to perpetuate my identity of ………….
The first hour after I was born, 60 minutes encapsulated my entire life outside the womb.
An hour is an eternity.
When I celebrated my first trip around the sun, one year encapsulated my entire life outside the womb.
An hour is not that long anymore. But a year… that’s an eternity.
When I’ll celebrate my 30th birthday next year, one year encapsulates about 1/30th of my experience in this body here on earth.
A year is not that long anymore. But 30 years… that’s an eternity.
Lukas Van Vyve
There’s an absolute, immutable version of time, and then there’s our felt interpretation, which speeds up with every passing moment because we compare it to all the “time we’ve lived so far”.
Maybe that’s why the older we get, the more effort it takes to stay in the present moment?
Because, unlike a newborn child, for whom, compared to its short lifespan, an hour is an eternity, and every second is an opportunity to discover, drink in the world, explore…
We’ve lived so many hours, minutes, and seconds that we don’t care anymore.
with every passing year
Lukas Van Vyve
i’m more in a hurry
and the days, minutes, seconds
become ever more blurry
i can live fast and miss out
or slow down
listen, look around
be here, right now
let the world whisper loud
what life is all about
and at last
i hear you again.
I don’t care what I write.
I care that I write.
Because only once the daily act of writing isn’t in question anymore, can I start writing what matters.