practice.

 I’ve been trying to be diligent about this, I really have.  But sometimes life gets in the way.  If you follow astrology, blame it on Saturn’s return.  If you don’t, then let’s just say:  when it rains, it pours.  A relationship ended, a home was vacated, and a position was terminated – that would be my spring in a nutshell.  And as my once uneventful life became full of unknowns, inspiration and motivation dwindled.  Trying to be productive, I signed up for a couple classes to focus on my craft and the instructor was adamant about practice.  Practice, practice, practice.  Practice everyday.  Make ten simple loops and ten wrapped loops a day.  Maybe you finish a piece, maybe you don’t.  The intention is not to “make” something but to hone your craft and practice as any skill can be lost if not used.  It always sounds like a good idea, practice.  And I thought about it.  A lot.  But never got around to it.  There’s always something else to do, like feed the cat or empty his litter box or make dinner or watch TV or stare at the ceiling and try to figure out what I’m doing with my life.  I found myself on BART one day, feeling listless and defeated, when this kid sat down next to me with a Rubik’s Cube. 

He fiddled with the cube from the Montgomery station in SF, under the bay, through the transfer in Oakland, all the way to his stop at the Downtown Berkeley station.  I was fixated by his skill level as I watched him solve the cube over and over, one handed and under a minute each time, during our trek to the East Bay.  We got to talking – he’s an early twenty-something originally from Southern California who moved to Berkeley for school and recently graduated from a graduate program in Mechanical Engineering.  Fitting, I thought.  He picked up the Rubik’s Cube around the age of 12 and by 14 he was competing in contests.  “There’s a method,” he told me. “But you have to practice.  If you don’t practice, you forget.  And you get slow.”  We got off BART and walked a ways together, him still solving the puzzle over and over with one hand.  We parted ways and when I got home I fed the cat, cleaned his litter box, made dinner, turned on the TV and sat down with some beads and wire.  Ten simple loops, ten wrapped loops.  All it takes is a little practice.