Drew Page's Blog

This Should Work!

Mon, 27 Feb 2012 13:49:30 -0500

Over the weekend, I refereed a fencing match between two 12 year olds, a boy and a girl. It was the gold medal bout for the youth event at our club tournament. The girl, slightly older, more experienced, and far taller, had a commanding lead early in the bout. Yet, when her opponent changed his game, things went south for the statistical favorite. The young boy figured out what was working against him and changed. He quickly caught up, picking up his points as the girl continued to attack with the same technique that had earned her the lead. In the end, the underdog won. Adaptation had defeated the tried and true technique.

As her coach, I explained to the young girl how common this was, sharing several personal examples of pig-headed attempts to drive in that proverbial square peg. It's a phenomenon most competitive fencers have faced. We are taught the principal 'If a tactic works, keep doing it until it stops working.' Our problem is always that last part. When a tactic fails, somehow we just keep trying. In our minds we are convinced that this should work because it has before. We bear down, refocused and determined to execute the maneuver just a little better than the last time. When it fails again, we get more focused, more determined. Our competitive edge drives us with cries of 'This Should Work!' In a 15 point game, that is a fatal mistake.

This stubborn desire to stick to a failing strategy seems common today. We have seen it happen in businesses that don't change with the rapid evolution of technology: newspapers, video rental shops, books stores, and very nearly Apple. It happens in our government where we insist that we can keep doing things the way we always have if we simply raise taxes or cut services. We watch our environment change for the worse, driving to work in gas powered cars with disposable coffee cups in hand while blaming it on developing nations. Despite the lessons of history or scientific evidence, our society marches forward against an uncertain future, screaming 'This Should Work!'

This determination-turned-stubbornness is a path to extinction. The solution is creative thinking, a willingness to challenge convention, and open mindedness. I recently changed my eating habits with extraordinary results. I was not looking for a diet. I simply got into a discussion with a friend who made an argument against my point of view and offered compelling proof. Thankfully, I was open to the ideas, despite the fact that these theories tore down every notion of nutrition I've ever known. Now, I cannot turn back.

There is no status quo. We progress and survive, or we fail, screaming 'This Should Work!' I've tried that on the fencing strip, when it doesn't really matter. I mean to go forward when it does.

Moments

Fri, 10 Feb 2012 11:27:18 -0500

I have four jobs. None of them are full time, but combined they equal more than 40 hours a week. I only take Fridays off, and that's not a given. When you add all the driving, prepping, extraneous tasks, and sudden changes in schedule, life gets to be a blurry flash of disconnected scenes.

Yet, right now, I sit in a chair not 6 feet from my sleeping daughter. She was sick all day yesterday, and that is already a blur to me now. Here, at this moment, it's quiet. She's peaceful and resting. The sun is shining in a window. The cat is sleeping in my lap, and the dog is lying at my feet. Life has stopped for this moment.

And it feels so good.

I often get stressed at time. I hate to be late. I get upset at the slow drivers in front of me when I need to get somewhere. I have no patience when I'm ready to leave the house and no one else is. I try very hard to manage my time between work projects, though I have the annoying habit of getting distracted by the most insignificant tasks. I sleep 7 hours most nights because I need it, but I wish I didn't. I delude myself with the fiction that I would achieve much more with an extra two waking hours each day.

With life as busy as it has to be on a constantly spinning planet, moments like this one are striking contrasts to my ordinary day. I may spend six hours on the computer working alone in the house on any given day, but it's never like this�quiet, peaceful, precious. I wish I could remember to allow more of these moments, these portions of rejuvenating quiet where my mind isn't buzzing with have-tos and what-ifs.

For this brief, rare moment, I don't feel rushed, stressed, or particularly moved to do anything but write this random reflection. And now, I don't even feel like doing that anymore.

Twas The Gathering Before Christmas

Fri, 23 Dec 2011 09:44:12 -0500

Just two days 'til Christmas, and much needs be done.
It's early in morning, and clouds hide the sun.
I know what I should do, my calling is clear.
Nine hours hence, twenty guests will be here.

I've wrapping to do, though it's not my best skill.
Tearing off paper is ten times the thrill.
The kitchen's a mess, and it's mostly my fault.
Will it look better with one single malt?

The floor is all shrouded in dog fur and crumbs.
I guess I should sweep it before the group comes.
Trash and recycling have piled up high
The Force cannot move them. Trust me; I try.

I plan to get started, just after this verse.
But procrastination gets better, not worse.
Hark, what's that song that I hear in the lobby?
The one about being at home, by Bing Crosby.

The Spirit just hit me; it's time to prepare!
The gifts will get wrapped, and I'll do it with care.
The cleaning is easy and eventually ends.
'Cause there's nothing like sharing a Christmas with friends.

Use It or Lose It

Mon, 12 Dec 2011 09:15:12 -0500

As a competitive fencer, one of the most frustrating trends I experience while training is the rapid loss of point control (accuracy) when I miss a few days of practice. When I miss two weeks, as I have this month due to a particularly tenacious cold, my point control is only one of many lost skills that will take weeks to recover. My endurance is understandably gone. My legs, which I rely on to keep opponents at my chosen distance, have become dangerously slow. My parries are late and far less controlled than usual.

More surprising than any of these physical regressions is the loss of 'presence.' When I am in my top game, I see everything: my opponent's blade actions and reactions, the distance, the open targets, and the 'tells' -- those tiny twitches that betray what my opponent is about to do. After two weeks of inactivity, I feel like a beginner. I am blind on the strip, unable to mentally replay what just happened an instant ago, and incapable of focusing on a strategy.

I recently read an article about this phenomenon that helped clarify. Researchers at the Washington University School of Medicine in St. Louis discovered the neurological explanation for why we 'use it or lose it.' It's a chemical thing - a bit complicated to discuss here. In short, tiny receptors migrate away from nerves endings when our muscles are inactivity. It's a rapid process, but fortunately it reverses when muscle activity resumes.

This explains much: why my guitar playing stinks when I pull my 6-string out of the case after 5 months, why I can't ski the first time I go to a mountain each season, and why my handwriting seems horrible these days. Let's face it. I never write with a pen anymore.

Okay, that was 300 words to state something most people already understand through experience. My point is this 'use it or lose it' problem is neurological. It's part of our brain. This made me consider other skills and abilities that deteriorate though lack of use. How about feelings? Joy? Compassion? Humor? The bio-chemical process is almost the same.

The fact is, if we don't practice something, we not only fail to improve, we actually get worse. There is no such thing as Status Quo. My fencing will only improve, or get worse, depending on how much I practice. The same is true about other practices. When we use our minds for a purpose regularly, we get better at that ability. When we stop, we deteriorate. People get pretty good at giving around the holidays. Just image what could happen if we practiced all year. Just think what other practices we could improve on.

Excuse me, now. It's time to practice giving my wife a hug.

Planning Ahead

Mon, 31 Oct 2011 15:52:58 -0500

Power failures are inconvenient. Once might even call them a bit frightening when temperatures are dipping below freezing at night. Crisis is not a word I would use when a winter storm hits New England, but driving through my town today, people are acting as if it were just that.

Losing power stinks. Even a single day without power becomes tiring. No water makes you think twice about using the toilet. Doubling layers and snuggling under blankets takes much more energy than we think. Eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, or cold leftovers that are certain to go bad in the warming refrigerator, gets old very quickly. In October, there isn't much light after 3 pm, and entertaining young kids in the dark is just plain hard work.

Yet, what has our society become? Are we so trapped in modern convenience that we cannot survive a freak snow storm in October? The 'crisis' is not due to the storm damage. It comes directly from the people who are unwilling to do without. Today, I saw a line of cars on the side of the road over a quarter of a mile long, waiting to get into a gas station. Is this because everyone's car has run empty at the same time? Doubtful. Are folks anticipating a lack of gas in New England for the next few days? Even after Hurricane Irene, the gas stations were pumping freely after 48 hours.

This was a winter storm. In New England. My prediction: there will be others. The samurai had a word for only seeing what is immediately before us: nikugen, the 'naked eye.' One with such limited vision is clouded by emotion, limited to one's own point of view, and unable to see beyond the immediate circumstance or anticipate a consequence.

This 'crisis' is nothing more than a bump in the path of our society as we sleepwalk our way toward a future promising catastrophic climate consequences and financial strain. Perhaps we all need to start thinking ahead, planning for the outages that will go far beyond not having a full tank of gas in our car. It's time to start thinking about what we really need, and what our neighbors need. What if you just can't get gasoline? What if food can't get from the Midwest to Connecticut? Can we survive locally? Can we learn to do without, and learn to share with others? Will we deserve to be shared with?