We spend so much of our days working. Whether learning on the job to hone skills we need to smooth our path to corporate success or practicing scales or going through steps in the studio to become better performers, we are constantly striving to improve our skills.
But what happens when we have focused so much on gaining knowledge and working towards perfection? It's entirely possible that a buildup of knowledge can actually hinder your ability to be spontaneous/creative.
One summer day, a six year old me was gallivanting by the waves on a Monterey beach, my family nearby. One particularly vigorous reach of water crashed near me and snatched my shoe right off my foot. I ran headlong into the wave, located my shoe in a vortex of seawater, and emerged triumphant (and sopping wet), shoe in hand. My parents were shrieking and horrified; I was scolded thrice over for having been so reckless.
The truth was, I simply didn't have the experience to tell me that running into a large ocean wave might be considered dangerous. I felt perfectly justified to go right up to that wave and take back what was rightfully mine!
As children, we may not have yet experienced knowledge that cautions us again and again not to do something, or to think before we attempt something because we've been told the goal is foolish or not worth it. But what about us grown-ups? Can't we retain a healthy dose of fun and spontaneity in our lives?
Twyla Tharp wrote in the "Skill" chapter of her book "The Creative Habit" (if you haven't noticed by now, Ms. Tharp constantly inspires me with her straightforward wisdom), "In its purest form, inexperience erases fear. You do not know what is and is not possible and therefore everything is possible."
I try to maintain inexperience by putting myself in new situations. This can mean riding the subway in Beijing for the first time and seeing that the way to get on the car is to run headlong into those who are trying to get off the subway (seems counterintuitive to me, but that's how it's done - "competition is the spice of life here," one native told me), or jumping into a new assignment at work despite not knowing how the heck I'm going to accomplish my goals (observe, learn, figure it out as I go). Inevitably, I find I've gained perspective that changes the way I live my life, or at least dislodged something in my mind I'd always assumed was true.
That said, I like having an anchor to come back to, things I have loved for as long as I can remember. This can be a physical location (home), or an activity that helps me feel like I'm back in familiar territory (dance class). Yet even in this state there are ways to find inexperience. I love studying foreign languages, and I can always stretch my knowledge of those I already have a command of, or start a new one. A different style of dance can teach me ways to use my body that I'd never known possible.
Each adventure comes with the thrill of the new, the shaky first steps ("Can I do it?"), and the eventual gaining of skill. The common thread that runs through each experience is the willingness to cast aside previous conceptions and assumptions of whatever you're trying to do. Who cares how you did it before, or if you've never done it before? How will you ever know what life could be if you don't try?
Let your gut guide you in the directions you take - even the paths that seem insignificant at first can bring immeasurable gains to your world. Give it a try! The worst that can happen is that you'll learn something new. Take the leap, fall and get up again if you have to. At the least, you'll gain the wide world of possibility.
But what happens when we have focused so much on gaining knowledge and working towards perfection? It's entirely possible that a buildup of knowledge can actually hinder your ability to be spontaneous/creative.
One summer day, a six year old me was gallivanting by the waves on a Monterey beach, my family nearby. One particularly vigorous reach of water crashed near me and snatched my shoe right off my foot. I ran headlong into the wave, located my shoe in a vortex of seawater, and emerged triumphant (and sopping wet), shoe in hand. My parents were shrieking and horrified; I was scolded thrice over for having been so reckless.
The truth was, I simply didn't have the experience to tell me that running into a large ocean wave might be considered dangerous. I felt perfectly justified to go right up to that wave and take back what was rightfully mine!
As children, we may not have yet experienced knowledge that cautions us again and again not to do something, or to think before we attempt something because we've been told the goal is foolish or not worth it. But what about us grown-ups? Can't we retain a healthy dose of fun and spontaneity in our lives?
Twyla Tharp wrote in the "Skill" chapter of her book "The Creative Habit" (if you haven't noticed by now, Ms. Tharp constantly inspires me with her straightforward wisdom), "In its purest form, inexperience erases fear. You do not know what is and is not possible and therefore everything is possible."
I try to maintain inexperience by putting myself in new situations. This can mean riding the subway in Beijing for the first time and seeing that the way to get on the car is to run headlong into those who are trying to get off the subway (seems counterintuitive to me, but that's how it's done - "competition is the spice of life here," one native told me), or jumping into a new assignment at work despite not knowing how the heck I'm going to accomplish my goals (observe, learn, figure it out as I go). Inevitably, I find I've gained perspective that changes the way I live my life, or at least dislodged something in my mind I'd always assumed was true.
That said, I like having an anchor to come back to, things I have loved for as long as I can remember. This can be a physical location (home), or an activity that helps me feel like I'm back in familiar territory (dance class). Yet even in this state there are ways to find inexperience. I love studying foreign languages, and I can always stretch my knowledge of those I already have a command of, or start a new one. A different style of dance can teach me ways to use my body that I'd never known possible.
Each adventure comes with the thrill of the new, the shaky first steps ("Can I do it?"), and the eventual gaining of skill. The common thread that runs through each experience is the willingness to cast aside previous conceptions and assumptions of whatever you're trying to do. Who cares how you did it before, or if you've never done it before? How will you ever know what life could be if you don't try?
Let your gut guide you in the directions you take - even the paths that seem insignificant at first can bring immeasurable gains to your world. Give it a try! The worst that can happen is that you'll learn something new. Take the leap, fall and get up again if you have to. At the least, you'll gain the wide world of possibility.
