Andrew's Daily Notes

Sometimes we may be surprised by what something grows into.

An acquaintance turns into a friend. A friend becomes family.

A small daily practice becomes a new skill. A hobby becomes a side-gig.

More often than not we don’t know what an endeavor might turn into. But this is for sure: if we continue to press into it, show up, and engage, we will surely find out.

Sometimes we are set in a role we didn’t expect. We might feel like a spoon pressed into the service of cutting on account of the lack of a knife.

Sometimes our roles change before we are ready and without notification. We are forced to rest, or pressed into working harder than ever before.

We are often guided into new situations through two different ways. One way is drought with tension – something we need is taken away, producing just enough tension to move us towards a new role. The other is discovery – something is presented that captures our imagination and draws us to pursue a new role.

These are all part of the journey. The question is always how we respond. Do we fight the change, always fighting to return to what was? Or do we embody this new role we find ourselves in, learn what is needed, and keep moving. If our roles are meant to change better to keep moving, than to fight. Better yet to test the journey along the way.

Some things shouldn’t be up for debate, and if they come up, it should be ended. A method that is quick and succinct is preferred.

While it might be “fun” to deconstruct everything, to find holes in every framework, somethings remain true regardless.

A simple example is that tap dancing will always sound and feel better with a proper wood floor. Ask a dancer to perform on a painted surface, metal, plastic, or rubber, and it won’t be a good experience for anyone involved. The sounds will be muddled or sharp, the movement restricted or uncontrollable.

The “innovators” will say that by making such a statement I’m being a purist, nostalgic even.

I say, find me another instrument to play that does what a good wood floor does.

The conversation normally ends there.

Other areas have a similar dynamic. Always, when the truth is pointed to, the debate should end.

I’ve recently began two writing projects. A poetry book (in collaboration with an amazing visual artist), and book about tap dancing.

Writing is a newer endeavor for me, so I wonder a lot about whether or not I’m “good enough” to be doing it. But then again, becoming better only happens through repetition, iteration, and aiming for high standards (given either through the gift of one’s imagination, or through role models and mentors).

I’ve been blessed with both, so I keep writing, and writing more than I have before.

Check out a chapter I was asked to write in this new book!

Most human activities beyond the pursuits of survival have an edge of ridiculousness about them.

Take the pursuit of tap dance. That is the hitting of a floor with one’s feet to make noise or music, depending on the dancer. Taken out of the context of the cultural arts, the oral tradition, or the beauty of human expression, the activity itself may seem quite ridiculous.

Now think of someone pursuing this with the air of a most serious pursuit. How can one be so serious about something that is actually quite funny?

Jimmy Slyde (a tap dancer himself) used to say, “You have to be able to laugh at yourself…because you’re funny!”

Regardless of what we deem to be most important, or what we take seriously, we should remember to take a moment to laugh. Sometimes it’s the most important thing we can do.

Do not confuse these two.

Information is the bits of content. Facts that are put together to lead to knowledge. Information is easily accessible thanks to technology, but varies in quality (or rather truthfulness).

Wisdom is the culmination of applied knowledge, based on accumulated information, that leads to experience, which when accumulated becomes wisdom. Wisdom is about application. It is not easily accessible, and often overlooked.

Do not mistake the new shiny piece of information for the wisdom of the ages. One is novel, the other is the foundation of survival.

If you’re clear there is no room for interpretation. It is what it is. Either someone heard or they didn’t. But there shouldn’t be any confusion if you’re clear.

If you’re vague, there are blanks to be filled, and interpretation to be had. Blanks should never be filled on one’s own if you have access to a place where you can gain clarity. The expectation is that questions should be asked until there is clarity. In the asking of the question we check our own intuition, ask out loud what someone else might just be thinking, and achieve clarity.

And that’s the goal: clarity.

Lest we all continue to wander around not sure of the things we think we know.

I was standing on the roof of a building with a friend and looked over the edge to see the view below. In the lot next to us was a construction site. They were just finished pouring the foundation.

My friend commented on how tall the building was going to be. I asked him how he knew? He said, “Look at the foundation.”

Sometimes where you want to go, or more clearly where you can go, is determined by what was laid at your foundation.

If you keep hitting the same blocks, check to see if your foundation is strong enough. It’s an act of love to keep someone from building higher then their foundation allows. So check the foundation, then get back to building.