If you wish to improve

For pretty much my whole life, I have struggled with feelings of inadequacy. I learned early on that there is value in being smart and clever (in ways that society deems you ought to be) and no value in being stupid or unintelligent (or seeming to be so in virtually any situation). Since I understood the game from a young age, I made it my mission--in order to gain acceptance--to be "smart." I consistently made A's throughout grade school and high school and beat myself up mightily for the few Bs that made appearances on report cards. When I got to college and some Cs started to creep in, I fully accepted the fact that I was a failure and basically unworthy. And that mentality stuck with me for much of my adult life. I believed I wasn't really that smart and therefore didn't really have much value. Being seen as (or perceiving being seen as) "stupid" by anyone for pretty much anything became a huge trigger for me, which would almost guarantee me lashing out or shutting down. Eventually, I learned to just avoid situations and conversations that made me feel dumb (and there were many!), which left me stuck in a place of non-growth and action paralysis much of the time. Because to step into the unknown and try something new, to grow and become, to improve in life, you have to be a learner. And, by definition, a learner does not yet know it all. They have not become an expert...yet. And they will certainly not always seem "smart"--to themselves or to others. 

I have recently received a promotion at work, which is exciting, but which has put me squarely in the learner's camp. And, honestly, so much about it sucks. I went from being one of the most knowledgeable people in my workplace--even teaching others how to do the job--to feeling like I know nothing. And, truthfully, it is way more fun to be the expert than it is to be the bumbling newbie who makes tons of mistakes. Being a learner doesn't feed the ego in any way, and it can make you feel inadequate and even like a fraud. Uncomfortable feelings, to be sure. 

I have spent a tremendous amount of time and energy in the last several years unlearning unhealthy mindsets and retraining my brain to think differently. Thankfully, I know now that I am truly smart--and more than that, I am wise. (And, I've come to understand that my opinion of myself matters infinitely more than the opinions others have for me.) I know that I have intrinsic value that isn't in any way tied to being "smart." I seek constant improvement but do not shame myself for not yet being an expert. I have come to appreciate Epictetus' words: "If you wish to improve, be content to appear clueless or stupid in extraneous matters--don't wish to seem knowledgeable. And if some regard you as important, distrust yourself." The only way to improve is to enter a phase of cluelessness, and we must learn to be content with the uncomfortable feelings that come along with that. We must sit with them long enough to get over the hump so we can eventually become experts. And we need to realize there will always be--and always should be--areas of our lives where we are learners. 

Connection

My youngest son wants to be a blacksmith when he grows up. He told me a couple of weeks ago that he sure would like to go see a real blacksmith because he had some questions. Over the weekend, we decided to revisit the blacksmith shop that first inspired him, where they do public demonstrations and have some hands-on activities available. He was completely enraptured by the experience. And I learned some very important things from the blacksmith myself. 

First of all, he told us that blacksmiths work mostly by sight. They spend years learning to see when the metal is ready to be removed from the fire and when it is ready to be twisted or hammered or manipulated in some other way. The color of the metal tells them what they need to know, even when there are only small variations in hue. But looks, he said, can be deceiving to the untrained eye. He explained that eyes that don't know what to look for might observe that the metal has gone from glowing red to blackish gray and assume it is cool to the touch. Not true. Steel that looks cool may actually still be somewhere in the neighborhood of 1000 degrees. If a blacksmith wants to ensure the metal is cool, he will dunk it in a bucket of water, which will almost instantaneously take the heat out of it and solidify the work. When the blacksmith mentioned the high temperatures the metal was reaching (and staying at a while after it appeared "cool"), I questioned aloud why he was doing this work without gloves of any kind. He explained that steel is a pretty poor conductor of heat. So if he has a longish rod (maybe two feet or so), he can hold it in his hand and never really feel the heat of the end that had been submerged in the fire. But then he let us in on a little secret that felt truly profound. He said the main reason he didn't wear gloves while working was because he's a craftsman, and in order to make the metal do what he wants and become something useful or beautiful, he not only needs to visually observe it, he needs to be physically connected to it, to feel it. The more insulation he puts between his hand and the metal, the less accurate and precise his work and the more likely he would be to make mistakes. 

Connection has been on my mind a lot lately, and usually when something is rattling around in my head, the Universe shows up with all kinds of lessons on the topic in places I never really even expected to find them. Specifically, I've been pondering human connections. I've been wondering how to create them and how to strengthen them and how to keep them intact. I know connection is something I crave deeply, but it isn't always something I intuitively understand how to produce or maintain. And sometimes it's something I either actively avoid through a myriad of defense mechanisms or something I just don't invest the effort in, either intentionally or unintentionally. The blacksmith helped me understand connection a bit better, I think. 

First of all, I need to see--really see--the people I desire to make a connection with. And since connection isn't a one-way street, I need to feel seen--really seen--as well. I need to learn to recognize the subtle variations in what I see so I'll know whether a relationship is "too hot to handle" or whether it is has "cooled." I need to be able to read how malleable the relationship is and if it is in a place to become something beautiful or if it needs some tweaks. I can only get this kind of connection by investing time and energy and genuine attention. And I can only experience a true connection when the other person is willing to invest to an equal degree. Not only that: to have real connection, I must remove as many insulators as possible so I can truly be in touch with those around me. That means I will have to allow space for people to be vulnerable, and I will have to allow myself to be vulnerable as well. In-person, face-to-face connections will always be the most meaningful because they are by their nature the least insulated. They allow for the most contact as the art of the relationship unfolds. 

Interestingly, a few days before my visit to the blacksmith, I had looked up some Brené Brown quotes for inspiration. She is one of my favorite authors and one seriously wise woman, and on a day when I was feeling a little "blah," I thought she might have some words to help me rise above my limiting mindset. There were a few I added to my collection of quotes, but one really stood out: "To form meaningful connections with others, we must first connect with ourselves." And that little gem was swirling in my head as I exited the blacksmith shop pondering connection. 

I cannot create meaningful connections with other people until I learn to connect with myself. That means I have to stop insulating and distracting and disengaging from myself long enough and often enough to really get in touch with myself. I need to really see myself and understand myself so I can learn what the variations in my colorful emotions mean. There is always the potential to get burned, but the more I learn to trust the process, the easier it will become and the better craftsman I will be. There is a masterpiece inside me waiting to emerge, but I have to be deeply connected with myself so I know when to heat things up or cool things down or put in a twist or take a hammer to it. 

One of my great desires in life is to make meaningful connections with other human beings. In fact, I believe this is absolutely my main purpose in life. It is something I strive for in my home, in my job, in my social circles, and even in everyday activities like grocery shopping. Sometimes those connections come easily, but sometimes they are a struggle. I know now, after several years of learning and growth--and an important reminder in a blacksmith shop--that the first step to making those connections with others is to stop insulating myself from my own experience. I have to be really in touch with it, even when it seems like it might be a little dangerous or uncomfortable. Before I can connect outwardly, I must connect inwardly. That connection will help me create something beautiful of myself, which will help me fulfill my life purpose of making meaningful connections with others.