Page 130 - The Art of Learning by Josh Waitzkin_Neat plip book
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darkness,  leaving  a  father  weeping    on  the   jungl e  fl  or.  Thr ee  years  later,  José
                still  hadn’t  recovered  from  this  encount er.  The  villagers  say  he  went   mad.  His

                spirit was broken.
                    When I heard this story, suspended  in  the  Amazoni an ni ght , I was struc k  by
                how much I related to both the predator and  the  prey.  I us ed to create cha os on
                the   chessboard   until   my   opponent s   crum bl ed   from   the   pr essur e.   I   loved   the

                unknown,      the   questions,   and   they    wanted   answers.   When    the re   were   no
                answers,   I  was  home  and  they  were  terrifi     .   The   game  was  mine .   The n   my
                psychology got complicated and the tables were tur ned .  In  my early enc ount ers
                with   world-class    Grandmasters,     I   was   us ual ly   beat en   like   José.   The    che ss

                position  might  be  objectively  even,  but   as  the  tension  on  the  board  mount ed  it
                felt  as  though  a  vise  was  slowly  cinching   do wn  on  my  head,   tight er,  tight er,
                until   I   reached   a   bursting   point   and   made   some   small   conces sion   like    José
                backing    up,   a   tiny   imprecision   that    chan ged    the   character   of   the    ga me,

                anything to release the pressure on my br ain. T hen  they  were all over me.
                    Grandmasters     know    how   to   make   the   subt lest   cracks    decisive.   The    onl y
                thing  to  do  was  become  immune  to  the      pain,  embr ace  it,  unt il  I  coul d  work
                through  hours  of  mind-numbing  compl exities  as  if  I  were  taking  a  lovely  walk

                in  the  park.  The  vise,  after  all,  was  onl y  in  my  head.   I  spen t  years  worki ng  on
                this   issue,   learning   how   to   maintain   the   tension—becoming    at   peace   with
                mounting     pressure.   Then,   as   a   martial   artist,   I   tur ned    thi s   traini ng   to   my
                advantage,  making  my  opponents  expl ode  from  mental  combus tion  be caus e  of

                my higher threshold for discomfort.
                    In  every  discipline,  the  ability  to  be  clearheaded ,  present,  cool  unde r  fi  e  is
                much    of   what   separates   the   best   from   the   mediocre.   In   compe tition,   the
                dynamic  is  often  painfully  transpar ent.  If  one   pl ayer  is  serenely  present   whi le

                the  other  is  being  ripped  apart  by  int ernal   issues ,  the  out come  is  already   clear.
                The    prey   is   no   longer   objective,   makes   compo undi ng   mistakes,   and   the
                predator  moves  in  for  the  kill.  Whi le  more  subt le,  thi s  issue   is  pe rha ps   even
                more  critical  in  solitary  pursuits  such   as  writing,  pai nting,  scholarly  thi nki ng,

                or  learning.  In  the  absence  of  cont inual   external   reinforcement,  we  mus t  be   our
                own monitor,  and quality of presence  is often the  best gau ge.  We canno t expe ct
                to touch excellence if “going through  the  motions ” is the  norm of our  lives.  On
                the  other  hand,   if  deep,   fluid  presence  becomes  second    natur e,   the n   life,   art,

                and   learning   take   on   a   richness   that    will   cont inual ly   sur pr ise   and   de light .
                Those  who  excel  are  those  who  maximize  each  moment’s  creative  po tent ial—
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