On learning new skills

Learning a new skill is challenging. A certain level of difficulty is to be expected. You usually leap into learning new things with fervor. You feel invigorated with each new thing you learn. It feels like new paths are being open. As if you're augmenting yourself. It is powerful.

After shying away from it for years. I'm finally teaching myself computer science. Well, a branch of it — data science. It feels great learning more. But at the same time, it feels incredibly intimidating. Each door opens me to new knowledge. But it also shows me the vast cooridoors within that I'm unfamiliar with.

I watched Donald Duck in mathmagic land a lot growing up.
And the doors that I am opening, feel familiar. Opening an individual door is easy. But exploring and mastering the corridors within? Well, that's an entirely different story.

The initial few doors are easy enough. You open them and "voila!" you are granted knowledge. Little effort on your part. Yet, each subsequent door requires slightly more. Slightly more time. Slightly more effort. Slightly more patience. The fire driving you persists. And you persevere through the increments. But it doesn't take many doors for the game to change. The roaring passion that brought you to this new interest? Well, that just does not seem as sustainable anymore. The problems and concepts you face require time. You need to sit down and chew through them. Some feel as though they're impossible. How could anyone understand this? And the fire falters. Where is the fuel?

I feel that sometimes. I often leapt into new hobbies. Only to drop them at the first struggle. There was no additional fuel to keep the fire alive. I couldn't imagine a version of me that could continue. And I couldn't bring myself to reach out to get help. Even if I had gotten help, it wouldn't sustain the fire. The roaring flames of passion don't last long. Their majesty exists in their immediacy. Sudden inspiration and brilliance. But leaving just suddenly. I don't like that about myself. My inability to hold onto the brilliance. And to keep this fiery passion burning longer. But as it turns out, I have done this for a few things. I have been drawing for many many years. Even when the initial fire wore out, I kept it burning with kindling. Small victories were key.

Learning this new skill right along that pattern. I've toyed with both data-science and code. But, I've never approached them seriously. I find myself regularly struggling. There are so many things to learn. But now I know that's ok. Opening a whole door is a triump. But noticing the door and its required steps? This is a triump too - albeit, a smaller one. Yes, after a few weeks of having been at it, I now know I need some math study. But that's more I know now, than I did when I got started. The tiny victories are the kindling that go into the fire. It's a different feeling because it is not a full body experience like passion. It's more of a slower burning fire. It's not a spectacle. It's not sudden. It's work.

I'm finding it difficult to ask for folks' help (as was my issue with other interests). But it's not as bad as it used to be. I think part of it is also that I'm older. I know more of what's required to learn things. And that the journey up the mountain is never easy. I think about how it will feel when I understand certain concepts. While knowing that it may not be tomorrow, next week, or even next year. There's no certainty that I will understand it. But I've come to appreciate the process now. And that is something younger me would never have done. Learning a new skill is like Sisyphus's journey rolling the boulder. You roll it up again and again, knowing it will roll back down. When faced with this endless cycle of effort, younger me often gave up. Now I know that the end is the same for all of our journeys. Therefore, I have been placing more joy in the process. There are many small successes as I approach this skill. I'll inevitably get to a point where the boulder feels like it's at the bottom again. I'll open a door and feel like I know even less than I did before. But as Camus concludes in his essay of Sisyphus, "one must imagine Sisyphus happy". And so, I find myself happy.

Small wins lead to sustained growth.

Small but sustainable.