Why do we practice?
I first began to learn to practice when I began to play football. I was skinny, weak, and slow. I didn’t play much, and didn’t play well when I did.
The shame of it drove me to exercise, and the anger of the shame made me work hard. I got bigger, stronger, and faster. I played more, and played better when I did.
My best friend got kicked off the team for smoking at the end of my junior year in high school, and I quit out of despair. I decided I wanted to be a Jedi Knight, and practiced yoga and karate. I suppose I wanted power.
I went to college. All the things I was interested in were very mathematical (besides writing of course. I couldn’t possibly earn a living as a writer.). The only problem was I wasn’t very good at math. I hated math through grade school and junior high. It seemed the most tedious subject on earth.
I decided I’d better get good at math, so I could learn the things I was interested in. I discovered mathematical beauty, and changed my major. I worked hard, did well, and made some friends with others so enamored.
One of my math buddies turned me on to the Russian authors, and I fell in love with books. Ten years later I discovered audio books, and I spent the rest of my mundane moments in the ether of words.
My practice hasn’t made me an expert; it hasn’t even made me a master. But it has made me happy.