Category Archives: Methods of Practive

Harness Infinity in your Practice

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We tend to think of infinity as a REALLY big number.  But pick any number you want, even say a googolplex, and that number is finite.  It is limited.  A googolplex plus one is still greater than a googolplex.

Infinity is unlimited or unbounded.

Infinity is less of a thing than it is a process.

The natural numbers are just the counting numbers: 1, 2, 3, 4,…  We know that there are infinitely many of them, because if you assume there are only finitely many, then there must be a largest number, say N.  But N+1 is greater than N, and if N is a natural number then so is N+1.  This contradicts our assumption that there are only finitely many.  Hence there are infinitely many natural numbers.

It is by this process of adding one that we come to infinity.  As soon as we stop adding one, we know that no matter how big the number is, it is still finite.

So how do we harness this concept of infinity into our practice?  By doing our practice every day.  This is what takes us from N to N+1, from the finite to the infinite.

The brain is a very plastic organ.  When we do something again and again, particularly at the same time and place every day, that activity will eventually cease to be something we consciously choose, and will eventually become nearly autonomous, like the beating of our hearts.

Our practice becomes truly powerful when we no longer waste any emotional energy on choosing whether or not to do it. At this point our practice transcends habit; it becomes part of our very nature.

N+1 follows N as night follows day.

Fallen from Practice

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I’m a big believer in practicing every day, at the same time and the same place.

I just don’t do it.  That’s probably why I’m a dilettante and not an expert.

I do try.  But invariably I have a late night out with friends, or take a trip out of town, or just don’t want to practice; so I don’t.

This is where the planning ritual becomes important:

  1. Reviewing my vision reminds me of what kind of person I want to be, of what kind of life I want to live.
  2. Reviewing my goals reminds me of what I want to accomplish.
  3. Reviewing my projects reminds me of what it will take to accomplish those goals.
  4. And reviewing my tasks reminds me of the habits required to complete my projects.

By the end of that process I am generally motivated enough to climb back on my horse and start riding in the direction of my vision again.

I once found it difficult to look myself in the mirror of my plans once I’d fallen out of practice.  It made me feel like a failure.

I’d go for months without looking.  By then I’d be out of shape, out of tune, and feeling a great deal of stress.  The stress would drive me to look for a solution, which in turn would bring me back to my plans and to practice.

I’ve decided I’d rather feel like a failure occasionally than to actually be a failure perpetually.  So I plan – daily.

Deliberately Gentle Practice

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There’s a lot of buzz now about deliberate practice, and rightfully so.  It’s the kind of practice that leads to expertise.

Deliberate practice is goal directed.  It provides the practitioner with feedback: you did this well, you struggled with that.  It focuses on the stuff you struggle with, and consequently it’s difficult.  You do that hard stuff again and again till you get it right. 

I am not an expert.  Don’t get the idea that I’m writing this blog because I am.  I’m writing this blog because I have struggled with practice all of my life, and because I’m convinced nearly everything worthwhile in life comes out of some kind of practice.

When I was young I hated to run.  I would set myself a goal to go out and run five miles, or maybe 40 forty yard wind sprints.  I’d be in agony, and probably not finish.  The next day I’d find a reason not to do it.

When I was in college one of my roommates, a guy who had won the state cross country championship, had a book called The Zen of Running.  I picked it up one day and opened it up to a page that read something like this: “Just go out and run.  Feel the joy of it.  And when you don’t enjoy it anymore, stop.

This one idea totally revolutionized my practice: practice as long as you enjoy it, and when you stop enjoying it, go on to something else.

I began to run – regularly.  Instead of dreading the run, I began to look forward to it.  It was a joyful experience, particularly if it was a bright sunny day.  I would go for a run, and immediately the tensions of the day would begin to melt away.

Now I have never won a race, but I did learn to make running a regular part of my day, a practice.  And my life was much better for it.