Practice doesn’t make perfect; it makes better. Aiming for ‘perfect’ is a problem because every time we practice, we learn. Every time we learn, we improve. Perfect implies an end — a finish line. But when you’re playing an infinite game, the finish line keeps moving forward; your expectations are always a little bit ahead of your skills. It’s not until we realise that perfect is unavailable that we begin to see the real value of Practice.
What can I learn from how brewers help or hinder the flavour profile of rice when they’re making sake?
If I’ve only noticed the sunrise a handful of times out of tens of thousands of daily opportunities. What else have I missed?
If we never know when the world will offer us a new idea, how can we best prepare for the moment when it inevitably comes?
If you feel like dancing, you probably wouldn’t book last minute tickets to a Chopin concert. So what’s bad music? And can bad books exist?
What changes in an art practice when the sharing of the work one makes becomes secondary to making the work in the first place?
