Michelangelo was an awesome guy. My obsession with him began when I was in the sixth grade. We were assigned to write one of those pitiful "research" reports about a famous figure in history, which, as we all know, were probably 99.95% direct quotation or thesauric paraphrase anyway. By the way, this was before the internet (I feel old saying this) was even accessible apart from limited dial-up for an hour a day. Back then in those days, we had to go to something called a lye-brarey to gather up some things called boocs. I remember coming home with a stack of crisp, newly printed, and unopened coffee table books about the Italian artist. I liked them for the pictures. I cried looking at photos of the Sistine Chapel. Even the cheap documentation was enough to instill a reverence in me. The sculpture of Mary holding Christ in the Vatican is near heavenly beauty on Earth. This guy was a master. No one came close to him.
Yet, at a very old age, must have been in his thirties or forties (because that was REALLY old back then), Michelangelo, the seasoned and brilliant sage, said this:
"I am still learning."
Even his words were like giblets of nimbus clouds. Surely if a man of such talent and genius was still learning at the peak of his stardom, we, as well, should never be satisfied with where we are. I mean, of course, we are always content, but we are never complacent. Life has often been dubbed the metaphor of a weathered novel, but I say, it's more like a chalkboard. Failure is expected because it's in those failures that we learn the most. So, instead of teetering around trying not to fail, we should fall head first into failure and welcome everything as a learning process instead of as a documented wall of shame.
At the same time, we should never be too proud to learn more about our own "expertise." There's always more. If you're a seasoned writer, try asking a fifth grader to proofread your stuff. You'd be surprised at how much insight they have. If you're an artist, try finger painting. If you dance, teach a group of the elderly to do the spongebob or the wobble. If you're a musician, play a duet with someone who's tone death. If you're a nuclear physicist, well, I don't know, have a beer with a preacher.
Despite what our fragmented and regimented education system may have taught us, we learn the most from experiences rather than memorizing textbooks and sitting in a classroom. Learning is a long process, and we don't learn through cramming and forgetting everything after a couple of months. We love stories. Real learning comes with wrestling. To truly know that you know that you know something, you would have had to have wrestled with it.
And almost always, just when you think you've learned something to the fullest, the ceiling becomes higher, and your understanding seems small. And, it's a beautiful thing.
Yet, at a very old age, must have been in his thirties or forties (because that was REALLY old back then), Michelangelo, the seasoned and brilliant sage, said this:
"I am still learning."
Even his words were like giblets of nimbus clouds. Surely if a man of such talent and genius was still learning at the peak of his stardom, we, as well, should never be satisfied with where we are. I mean, of course, we are always content, but we are never complacent. Life has often been dubbed the metaphor of a weathered novel, but I say, it's more like a chalkboard. Failure is expected because it's in those failures that we learn the most. So, instead of teetering around trying not to fail, we should fall head first into failure and welcome everything as a learning process instead of as a documented wall of shame.
At the same time, we should never be too proud to learn more about our own "expertise." There's always more. If you're a seasoned writer, try asking a fifth grader to proofread your stuff. You'd be surprised at how much insight they have. If you're an artist, try finger painting. If you dance, teach a group of the elderly to do the spongebob or the wobble. If you're a musician, play a duet with someone who's tone death. If you're a nuclear physicist, well, I don't know, have a beer with a preacher.
Despite what our fragmented and regimented education system may have taught us, we learn the most from experiences rather than memorizing textbooks and sitting in a classroom. Learning is a long process, and we don't learn through cramming and forgetting everything after a couple of months. We love stories. Real learning comes with wrestling. To truly know that you know that you know something, you would have had to have wrestled with it.
And almost always, just when you think you've learned something to the fullest, the ceiling becomes higher, and your understanding seems small. And, it's a beautiful thing.
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