Page 25 - The Art of Learning by Josh Waitzkin_Neat plip book

ten-foot Gulf Stream rollers. Some of my earliest memories are from the do ck
of my family’s little house on mosqui to-ridden Sout h Bimini Island, fi hi ng for

snappers, feeding moray eels, swatting away bugs at ni ght whi le chummi ng for
sharks.
Growing up, I knew that come summertime, we woul d head off to sea no
matter what else was happening in our lives, what crisis was looming, wha t

tournaments I was missing, how out of cont ext or absur d our ocean trips might
have felt at the moment of departur e. I hav e come to under stand tha t the se
little breaks from the competitive intensity of my life have been and still are an
integral part of my success. Times at sea are periods of renewal, coming

together with family, being with nat ur e, put ting thi ngs back in pe rspe ctive. I
am able to let my conscious mind move away from my training, and to ga in
creative new angles on the next steps of my growth. Thes e trips are a far cry
from luxurious vacations—actually they are nons top manual labo r, sweating in

the engine room trying to coax an old gen erator back to life, worki ng the
cockpit in the hot sun, keeping the bo at toget her in angr y squal ls, na viga ting
through big seas, l iving right on the edge.
The boating life has also been a wonder ful training gr ound for per formanc e

psychology. Living on the water requi res cons tant presence, and the release of
control. A boat is always moving with the sea, lurching beneath your feet, and
the only way to survive is to sink into rhy thm with the waves and be ready for
anything. I learned at sea that virtual ly all situat ions can be han dl ed as long as

presence of mind is maintained. On the other hand, if you lose your calm whe n
crisis hits seventy miles from land, or whi le swimming with bi g sha rks , the re is
no safety net to catch you.
There have been many years when leaving my New York life felt like career

suicide—my chess rivals were taking lessons and compet ing in every weeke nd
tournament while I was on a boat crashi ng thr ough bi g waves. But I woul d
come back with new ideas and a full tank of energy and det ermina tion. The
ocean has always healed me, brought me back to life when I have needed it . . .

and as an eight-year-old child in the m ids t of an existential crisis, I ne ede d i t.
My parents, baby sister, and I left Fo rt Lau der dal e on the Ebb Tide, our
twenty-four-foot Black Fin, a wonder ful old fishi ng boat tha t carried us
through many summer adventures in high seas unt il she bl ew up and sank

when I was twelve. Fifty-seven miles east sout heas t was Bimini , an island tha t
was like home to me. I can still see her coming into sight thr ough my