May
9
Mastery
I have been formulating in my mind a path to mastery of topics – a way to generically apply oneself to mastering anything – to developing an intuitive feel for the art of something. It has been crystallizing through my study of Aikido, guitar, foreign languages, swimming, and through my experiences teaching foreign languages, tutoring in geometry, and my goal-coaching services.
attitude of positive expectation – this is the means by which the inevitable failure are converted into learning experiences. The appropriate self-talk is not “why am I getting it wrong?” – to which the mind will provide dozens of reasons why you’re getting it wrong. This stops learning and movement. Rather, one should say “oops. that’s interesting,” and continue to course-correct.
The steps in training for mastery are as follows:
1. right-brained engagement (unconscious competence). Observe with all of your senses, and try to duplicate. If you’re using your eyes, don’t look at one point, but instead, slightly defocus so you can see the big picture. Use your other senses in an analogous way. At this point, trying to concentrate on any one aspect will put cognitive filters on, actually reducing the amount of information you’re taking in. Most models of learning start with what they call “unconscious incompetence” but I have found that the right-brain is remarkably competent.
My own experience with tennis lessons is that I can hit the ball reasonably well, if I’m not thinking too much. Once I start thinking too much, I lose the feel and my return of the ball deteriorates. The same goes with my experience in Aikido. With languages, I find that the best pronunciation results from listening to a native or a recording of a native, and then repeating as he does, before I start to read any grammar or notes.
This can be said to be imitation of form.
2. left-brain engagement (conscious competence) – a master in any subject has conscious access to his knowledge. The right brain is very pliable, but that is why it must be supplemented with the more rigid right brain. The left brain comes up with reasons that reinforce right-brained learning. In languages, after one has developed a feel for the rhythm and sound of sentences, one must learn the vocabulary and grammar. Music is a similar analog – once one has developed a feel for assonance, timber, and rhythm, one must consciously understand why the music feels a certain way, in order to create or compose it. In Aikido, it is the understanding of what steps and movements must be done in order to properly take someone’s balance.
This can be explained as “after internalizing form, learn why it works.”
3. unification (wholistic competence) – In reality, things happen too fast for the left-brained linguistic mind to process it. Next one must rehearse the reflexes while consciously thinking of the actions being performed. This can be reciting sentences after one has learned the grammar and vocabulary, or in Aikido performing the form – partly relying on “feel” and partly relying on one’s conscious understanding of how it’s “supposed” to be (right foot stepping toward the opponent’s armpit, etc.) In tennis, it is the unifying of feel and theory that allows one to aim the ball.
This process of unification is what makes for non-linear progress. When trying to both “feel” and “think,” one runs into things that before, one was able to effortlessly pull off, but now, because of “thinking,” one has lost the “feeling.” Inwardly, the learning is taking place, but outwardly, progress appears inconsistent. It may be necessary go to a purely “feeling” mode or “thinking” mode as necessary in order to pull it off.
4. entrainment (unconscious competence) – after learning both the feel and the theory to a task, the next step is to rehearse it so that it comes up to speed. The rehearsal is what allows both the left and the right brain to “chunk” information into certain gestalt divisions. In languages, this means that one’s speed improves with rehearsal of spoken utterances, and the internalization of grammatical frameworks allows one to make longer and more complex utterances. To use an Aikido analogy, an “irimi” becomes a gestalt term that allows one to learn other forms that feature it, rather than a complex “step forward off of the opponent’s line of attack while keeping one’s own line of attack facing the opponent,” which is how a beginner might learn it.
Too often, approaches to learning lean one way or the other. The way languages are taught in Japan is purely left-brained: all grammar and vocab without any actual speaking. I also once met a college student studying rhetoric who said the students never gave speeches in class – “That’s too advanced. We only study theory.” The only way to learn how to do something is to actually do it, my friend.
Also, the Suzuki music method over-emphasizes the right brain. It teaches one to “feel” a melody through listening and imitation, but I went through six years of training and never properly learned how to read music – something which I am making up for now by reading a book on music theory.
Criticisms
I have given people advice on learning which has been dismissed as not applicable, because I have an “analytic” mind, my client will say. But I don’t think this is true – I always start with “feel” first. Only after I have a feel do I analyze, and I analyze not for analysis’ sake, but to be able to consciously access why something “feels right” or “feels wrong.”
The method I used to master some 2000 chinese characters in two years is also a both-brained approach. I describe it in more detail on http://www.genetickanji.com. I started out with a purely right-brained approach – writing characters purely based on shape or feel – and my recall rate was about 50% on a week-to-week basis. But unless I continued to develop “feel” by continuously rehearsing the characters through writing, I would continue to forget. I also tried copying verses of poetry – this gave me more practice writing, and started to give me better mental access to how characters were formed by allowing me to think of writing them in the context of other characters, but this allowed me to learn only as many characters as I could remember in poems.
The approach I finally arrived at was one that gave me intentional access to my writing reflexes. I learned small components – which were easy to learn to write reflexively, and I learned more complex characters as combinations of these components. Thus, most complex characters ended up being simply two characters combined together, rather than an amalgamation of strokes.
What I’m excited about
I am so excited about this learning process recently because of my progress in Aikido. After about four months of almost daily practice, with teachers of different styles of explanation (right-brain, left-brain). Which I unified and entrained over the course of many training sessions, I can now look at a video of a new technique and imagine myself inside of it performing the technique. Before – I needed to have a partner to learn any new techniques.
