Tales Out of School
Susie Kaufman
It is not true that a little learning is a dangerous thing. Every new passageway that clears in the subterranean sludge of my brain - even if I have no idea where it's leading - just might illuminate some gritty, trash-strewn corner that's always been in the shadows. A little learning, the dawning of an unfamiliar day, is really only dangerous when I conflate the beginning, the dazzling spark of the new, with the end of learning....When I believe in my own born again expertise, and, even more so, when I delude myself into believing there actually is an end to learning. If I convince myself that I've arrived, I am in serious trouble. I have not arrived. I once got a fortune cookie that said - going straight for the jugular - pain is the privilege of the living. Arrival is the destination of the dead.
When I open my awareness to the possibility of something new, it is a miracle in nature, like a snake sloughing its skin or the sun reappearing after a winter's half-day of darkness. Anything can happen. Stepping into the river of new learning, I wiggle my toes to determine if any rocks or spiky creatures are buried just below the surface and I wade in cautiously up to my knees, up to my belly, to get used to the chill. But, in the end, I have to be willing to be uncomfortable. There's no way around it. I have to be a beginner.
There are successes and there are failures. Studying Spanish was not the healing I had hoped for. I imagined that I could in some small way redress the grievances of all the unrecognized Puerto Rican children I went to school with uptown...All the children struggling to learn American history from deadly textbooks written in English, a history that did not include the part about sugar barons making a meal out of the island. Instead, Spanish made fun of me behind my back. Irregular verbs confounded me with their stealth discrepancies. They were like so many mosquitoes, buzzing around, evading capture. Not enough memory left to learn a foreign language. Just enough to understand how hard it was for the children I didn't make friends with in fifth grade, a learning of a different kind.
In school, we were served a cafeteria tray of the basic information food groups - spelling, arithmetic, geography - whether or not they appealed to us or satisfied any particular hunger. Now, in one of the great unheralded benefits of aging, I am old enough to decide what I want to know and what offbeat flavors I might develop a taste for. Every novice encounter in the physical world signals a deepening appreciation for the patience and devotion to practice, the willingness to stumble, that are part of becoming newly skillful.
I want to make pie crust, don't ask me why. I want to cut the cold shortening into the flour to make that coarse meal they talk about, then add the ice water, mixing it together until it miraculously coalesces into a ball of dough. I want to cover the ball in plastic wrap and roll it out on a floured board so that it forms a large, uniform, thin circle of pastry and I want to sing Summertime while I'm cutting, mixing and rolling. You will not be called upon to sample my leaden early efforts. Eventually, the pie crusts will become lighter, flakier, easier in the making and the eating. The blueberry filling will drip down my chin and I will be saved. Until I remember that I need to bone up on compassion and gratitude, the perennial course of study. And here I will stumble, just as I did wielding the rolling pin.
One friend will entice me with another friend's shortcomings and I will fall into the despond of judgment, adding my own seasoning to the gossipy mix. I will harbor uncharitable thoughts and I will be greedy for attention. Arrogance will make a pass at me and deceit will pretend to have my best interests at heart. It can be disheartening, this serpentine process....Always slithering around on my belly in the underbrush, never moving forward in a straight line. But because I am in love with learning, because learning is the greatest aphrodisiac, I sharpen my pencils and remind myself that every moment is an opportunity, a new beginning, the terrifying, exhilarating first day of school.
Please share seventysomething with interested friends.
For more on new consciousness about aging go to http://sage-ing.org/
6 comments:
I love this Susie. (For what it's worth, I recently read an article in the New York Times about why people our age do poorly with learning a new language, how our brains are geared for different skills at different times.) What you are clearly learning is exactly what the article said our brains are built for at this time in our lives. How fitting. Thanks for the sharing. BD
I'd love to hear from you about what the NYT said were areas of learning appropriate to older people. Thanks for being on this train with me.
Once again my mouth is open in a combo of admiration and laughter Susie. You speak the language of profound, but disguise it as humour and very sexy writing. Each time I think this is my favourite piece of writing. I love your humility too. This is just plain gorgeous. Love, Jinks
I'm just beginning to embrace the humor as part of the package. Thanks so much for reminding me of the value of that.
I want to know why you want to make pie crust. I wonder about how you start with aging and learning new things yet end with the enticement of judging friends. I couldn't follow this trajectory. Is it learning to not get swept into this judgment? You are learning something new by writing this blog - what are you learning that is new for you?
It is, indeed, about the deeper spiritual learning of compassion, humility. Very hard lessons to learn. A task in the material world, like making pie crust, is a good way to practice. It requires patience, self-forgiveness. All the good stuff. Thanks for responding. If you have time, it would be great if you'd check out the earlier posts. New one coming in the next few days.
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