I don’t know if I can really say I learned a lot this year. I did learn some things, like that I’ve been pronouncing “triathlon” incorrectly, and that “bigot” doesn’t exactly mean “racist”. I learned a lot of geeky violin stuff, like how to keep your index and ring fingers on the string while your middle finger and pinky play an interval of a third (sorry for blowing your mind). Oh! And I learned how to read music on an iPad and turn pages with my foot.
There were many lessons, however, that I had to learn so many times this year that I can’t really promise I’ve learned them even now (e.g., going outside will make you feel better; talking to a friend will make you feel better; drinking a quart of water will make you feel better, etc.). And considering the record number of books, news articles, and jaw-dropping political memes posted by family members that I’ve read this year, you’d think I’d be feeling prettty learned by now, in the two-syllable sense of the word.
Alas, comprehension and retention have not always gone hand in hand for me. Just the other day, someone laid out the entire plot of a movie (and mentioned the first and last names of the celebrity who stars in it), but it wasn’t until after I’d chimed in, “Sounds like a cute movie!” that I realized they were talking about Elf, which I have seen. This probably points to some kind of undiagnosed learning disability, or at least a lack of insight about what “type” of learner I am, but I’d prefer to go to my grave thinking it’s some kind of major character flaw.
I found some comfort in a passage from one of my learny-learned books the other day. In Beyond Theology (the majority of whose target audience, the author must have known, was going to vehemently reject it), Alan Watts writes:
“For what one needs in this universe is not certainty but the courage and nerve of a gambler; not fixed convictions but adaptability; not firm ground whereon to stand but skill in swimming.”
It has been a year of swimming, that’s for sure–a year of finding new ways to stay afloat, warm, and playful. I’m not sure I’ve gotten any better at it, but then again, skill acquisition is notoriously undetectable to those doing the acquiring. But no matter how much you practice, swimming is uncomfortable, exhausting, and at times, downright embarrassing. (This has been my experience, anyway.) Still, I’d rather be fumbling about in the water than building my house on the sand.