I know a serious guy. I think that most people who know him could agree that he is serious guy. It is somehow implied by the fact that he graduated from Faculty of Electrical Engineering and is specialized in 2D materials, especially if you do not know what 2D materials are. He can explain it to you in a minute. You learn that they have only one layer of atoms. Everything gets as clear as a day.
I have other criteria for seriousness. For example, he always reminds me when I get too talkative with our friends that it is time to go home, so that we do not miss the bus. He is often smiling and acting as if he is in peace with himself. You would recognize, I am sure, such kind of people. He knows exactly what he wants in life and can explain it to you in a minute. It gets as clear as day.
Anyway, this friend of mine recently told me how he learns to row. He trains on the river Sava, with the coaches and his team. I discovered that he is not quite comfortable with getting his legs tied in a boat. Legs are tied in order to enable rowers to push themselves away and pull themselves up. Each oar stroke which is deeper than it should be – rocks the boat. If you roll over, you have to unbuckle yourself first. This thrilled me, because I had no idea about it.
Sounds logical, I’ve seen them pushing away and swinging the oar, I’ve seen many times the perfect harmony of their movements – I simply never thought about it. If someone knows how to do it, when you observe it from the coast of Ada – it looks easy and it fits perfectly into a bright, spring day. It looks like demonstration of power and freedom, like there is nobody that could stop those rowers even if they wanted, let alone to tie them.
This is not some exceptional case, everything you learn goes that way. You get yourself stuck in a system, sit firmly on a chair, devote yourself to something so you cannot move from there – and that is your backing. You do that because you believe that you can learn, because you absorb what’s going on around you, because you are watching how you move through matter. If your intention to overcome something is solid, you can make waves with your approach – until everything clicks into place.
And when does it click? It clicks when you see yourself gliding on the glass surface of knowledge, swimming in it, on a flashing sunlight and feeling the wind on your side. Everything you don’t know is deep, strong and wants to carry you on its way. You use the oar to push through that depth and when you go too far – the river itself warns you.
At that moment, it certainly comes to your mind, at least at the beginning – why did I ever got so tangled up in the first place. Then you look at the coast and figure out that they don’t know you’re tied.
They see perfect harmony of movement.
They see how you pass them by, how capable you are and how in this struggle with the river you breathe in that beautiful, spring day – because you know how to row through life.
You realize for yourself that you can. It must be a great feeling.
It is worth of tangling up a little bit.