Shiny shiny plateau

I am quite the neophile. I like trying new things, and I confess that I am a bit prone to losing interest when the novelty wears off. I’m not terrible, or anything, but the tendency is there. Not a completer-finisher, by any means.

I’m usually quite good at new things, too. I used to call it ‘beginner’s luck’, but now that I am old, I would like to own that picking up the basics of Stuff fairly quickly is one of my superpowers. Obviously prior experience and natural ability both play a role, but in general, compared with other people, my learning curve tends to be relatively steep at the beginning. This may be not be entirely unrelated to my experiencing new things as more fun.

And off to one side of all that, my body is – well, a bit crap, really. I’m not what you would call disabled (unless you were being particularly generous), but I take Bad At Sport to whole new levels and there is some pain, somewhere, most of the time.

So. Earlier this year I started a New Shiny kind of yoga, and it was very much fun because there was lots of Learning, and I was improving quickly in terms of what I could do, and I could see some differences in daily life, and being not-hurty, and there are some bits that I was ‘good at’ because I am Very Stretchy.

And then there were a few weeks when I couldn’t go as regularly as I’d have liked, and I didn’t really practice at home either because I was Busy.

The way this class works is that you do Things, and when you can do all those things, your teacher teaches you a New Thing to add on the end. And my teacher hasn’t deemed me worthy of a New Thing for weeks and weeks and weeks, and I realised that I had come to see the New Things as a reward and a reinforcement – quite apart from the fact that I can see perfectly well for myself that I’m not getting any better at the Things.

And of course, I would not say to my teacher “I’m sad because you’re not giving me New Things to do” because I am all chill and yogic, man… But I did mention that I was frustrated that I didn’t seem to be making any progress.

And she said: “Maybe for you it’s not about making progress. Maybe it’s about maintaining, and staying healthy.”

And I thought: “Ping! Maybe for me it’s not about making progress.”

And that is HARD. Because I have always measured life in progress, as well as in praise (I think I’ve mentioned inner Hermione…), and the idea that anything is not about making progress is a bit alien, if I’m honest.

But there we have it. It’s not about making progress. Maybe.

I once read an article which suggested that rather than trying to stop procrastinating, people could increase their efficiency by finding really efficient ways to procrastinate. If you really don’t want to clean your kitchen, find something you want to do even less, and then cleaning the kitchen will feel like a natural and appealing way to avoid it.

I am henceforth applying the same principle to my neophilia. I will not give up the yoga class because I’m not making progress. Instead, my shiny new hobby shall be Not Making Progress.

For a while.



This whole, rambly, unusually introspective post does have relevance. The astute my observe that I haven’t posted anything here for nigh on three months, to the point where it was starting to get a bit daunting to come back to – and leaping straight in with a book review and no explanation felt a bit strange. To be fair to me, this was partly because I had a Life Event which I can’t post about because technically it happened in somebody else’s Life, and that had me a bit discombobulated for a while there. But also – this isn’t a new blog any more. My stats are not dramatically changing, and my small, perfectly formed audience is showing no signs of growth. But hey – that’s OK! It’s not about making progress. I am writing this for me, and my few loyal followers, and if anybody else shold stumble upon it and enjoy what they find, so much the better – but either way, it’s all good.



We’re not there yet

2016 is over at last, and I know that a lot of people are very pleased to see the back of it. We have seen a chain of celebrity deaths which, while statistically no more numerous than in recent years, has felt particularly cruel in terms of the individuals involved and the values they represent. Millions of people have died as a result of war or natural disaster, and terrorist attacks have spread across Europe. Meanwhile, the ‘jungle’ camp in Calais was disbanded, leaving thousands of refugees even more vulnerable than before; Britain voted to leave the European Community; and Donald Trump was elected president of the USA.

It feels as if things are falling apart, and a lot of people feel justifiably scared of the consquences for themselves, as well as horrified by the atrocities which have already occurred. In many ways, this is an appropriate response. We should be frightened, angry, outraged. But… perhaps we shouldn’t be quite so surprised. Continue reading “We’re not there yet”

The solitude of the recreational cyclist

My son has suddenly got the hang of riding his bike. Today we went to the park to practice, and I walked along behind him as he sailed away, looping and swooping and circling the paths. After a while, we went back to the playground to meet the rest of the family, and I saw him flinch as we walked into the crowd. I saw his eyes cloud momentarily, and I knew that expression.

Continue reading “The solitude of the recreational cyclist”