Goldilocks Got it Right

Yesterday was a surprising day.

The forecast for this week was for cooler temps and rain every day. I was surprised to wake to warmth and sunshine so took the route down to our waterfront for my walk. I do this as often as possible during good weather but had resigned myself to the idea of in-town walking as winter approaches.

Our town's harbour was an industrial hub during the late 19th and into the 20th century. Lumber mills made way for ship building which shared shoreline with coal yards .... I would say the town once thrived equally in employment and pollution.

Just one industry remains; a grain elevator operation that still brings Great Lake size tanker ships in carrying grain. The ugliness of this operation is softened by a full size mural on the water-side of the undulating silos that hold the grain. This mural tells one of the stories from the town's history . The fact that it is now the only industrial employer remaining in the harbour also brings out a beauty of sorts (to my eyes anyway). 

Our waterfront is lined with a paved trail which carries on for miles but begins at the northern end of our harbour. As you walk north, away from the grain elevators, the path turns back into nature; water on one side and woods on the other. This wasn't always the case as three remaining piers along the trail attest to. Ships waiting for their time at any one of the waterside operations would tie up to these piers but they've long since gone, along with the industries they serviced. The piers now stand as reminders of the vibrancy the town once knew.

My favourite place to end my walk before turning for home is the first pier. I stand or sit on the pier for five or ten minutes, saying my daily intention and enjoying the play of sunshine on the water and the sound of the water as it approaches the pier.  The fact that woods are at my back makes it a perfect retreat space even for those few moments in the day.

Yesterday, a man sat on the pier speaking on his cell phone. I wanted to give him privacy so kept walking. I've often opted for the second pier when people fishing stand on the first.

Something yesterday, though, pulled me to the third. I hadn't visited this pier previously because the land to walk out to it looked narrow (from a distance) and I wasn't entirely sure it was approachable without getting wet. 

But yesterday, I walked past the second pier to the third. I saw that the thin strip of land had, at some point, been covered with gravel so it was about three feet wide and perfectly safe. The visibility of the sea life on each side of this isthmus is unique to this pier. (forgive 'isthmus'; I know as a writer not to use words or phrases that will cause a hiccup to the reader and I have difficulty pronouncing this myself but it is such a perfect word in this case)

Walking this short path bordered with the water, rocks and plant growth reaching right up to it was delightful. Zebra mussels attached to an old running shoe someone had plucked from the lake bottom made even the shoe fit the scene. 

As I made my way to the pier itself, I was reminded that many times in life I've taken the easy or closest route: settled for what came my way first: thought to myself 'good enough' when better was possible. I think, as women, we often adopt this practice. 

Was this the message Goldilocks was trying to give us? Until this moment I never questioned the reason the story has a girl pushing through until she gets what she knows is the best. Was the writer of this old fairy tale an early feminist perhaps, trying to tell we women not to settle for second best in a world of men (and bears)? We can debate the ethics of breaking into someone's cabin and stealing their food another time.

For myself, I think an image of the third pier will now be in my head whenever I know I should keep going. Don't stop. Better is out there and I can reach for it!

Practice Makes Perfect?

Perfect? Not so much. But it does makes things better; easier; stronger; more enjoyable. 

Writing, I've discovered, is all about practice. The more I do it, the more my words and sentences coalesce into something that makes sense (at least to me). 

Practice for writing requires a great deal of reading - I seem to choose hobbies that involve things I love to do. 

Writing letters to friends and family is practice. My journals give me space to practice. This blog allows me to practice.

I also recognize the value of practice in other areas of my life.

I recently started an on-line watercolour class. I'd like to say I'm making progress ... a recent seascape effort looks pretty good (when I remove my glasses and stand across the room). I will admit to a little discouragement and negative talk: Art isn't my thing! I'm frustrating myself by working at something I'm not good at! But then I remember practice! Practice in this is crucial if you want to understand the nuances of colour, shapes, shadow, brushes and light. 

My at-home fitness practice is making me stronger and able to handle the arduous gardening tasks I take on. I am getting stronger by practicing regularly.

I remember Dr. Christiane Northrup (in one of her wonderful books about menopause and aging) suggesting that we stand in yoga's Tree pose on each leg with our eyes closed for however many seconds we can manage. As we get older, our balance begins to diminish and becomes problematic. This simple exercise, practiced regularly, can help mitigate this loss of balance.

What we have to realize, though, is that, while practice will improve whatever we do, we likely won't become proficient at everything.

Some researchers dispute Malcolm Gladwell's belief (from his book 'Outliers') that the basis of success is 10,000 hours of practice. These researchers believe that all of us can't be Rembrandts or Olympic atheletes. Even after that much practice, some individuals will remain mediocre. 

I do believe strongly in the merits of practice but I think these researchers are on to something.

After what feels like 20,000 hours of housework in my lifetime, I continue to be mediocre at best.