A New Way of Interacting — Zachary Cochran

Have you ever been caught in the middle…of learning? I do my best to learn every day, but I hide what I’m learning until I have learned it. In this way, I’m not vulnerable and open to attack from the “cheap seats” (or really, I think it helps me to quiet my own self-criticism). Putting something “out there” is hard, especially for those with perfectionist tendencies and those who care about their very curated, put-together image.

Yet.

I think about when I was a teenager in the dojo of my martial arts instructor. While proficiency was celebrated with belts representing the ranks we attained, what you saw when you walked into class was everyone “in process,” regardless of their rank. Even the black belts were learning as they taught. And learning can be messy. One time (I was at most a green belt at the time) I dropped my brother onto his skull. I didn’t know enough yet to know that I would unintentionally slam him to the thinly carpeted concrete floor. It was traumatic. Hearing the dull “thunk” reverberate in the room. Being told by my sensei to turn around and kneel instead of being allowed to soothe and comfort my little brother who I’d just hurt badly. It turned out he was not concussed (or not badly enough to need medical attention), but it was a mistake I learned from and never repeated again. Being caught in the learning process is often painful—for ourselves and even for others.

Why am starting to share what I am learning as I am learning it? Because I’ve realized a few important insights:

1. I simply won’t share it if I wait till later. If I wait until I have achieved a high enough level of competency and mastery over what I am learning to feel comfortable sharing it, I will rarely, if ever, share it. If I don’t share it right away, it never feels like the right time. And I never come back around to it. I suppose that’s because I believe I’m supposed to be an “expert.” Experts are experts, not learners, right? Yet, I think the most respected experts are the continuous learners, and those experts who fail to continuously learn eventually fail to be experts. To attain expertise in the first place can be difficult. To remain an expert without continuously learning is impossible. Further, learning occurs when we open ourselves to the opinions and perspectives of others. Thus, a transparent (and at times, vulnerable) blog will be a valuable part of my learning process.

2. I can choose what to put “out there.” One simple principle I’ve learned to live by, thanks to Stephen King’s book On Writing, is to write for yourself and edit for the world. Anything that I write, I should write because I enjoy writing it, and I can write it simply for my own benefit (and if need be, withhold for my own private satisfaction). I write fast, which means I lose little time even on an entry I intended to share if I decide not to share it in the end. Once I decide to share it, I will be releasing it into the world. This means that whatever I put “out there” should be open to criticism and critique. I should be as open to correction, dispassionate about my work, and welcoming of feedback. Not only will I learn from others’ insights, but in time, I’ll learn not to fear people’s critiques, criticism, and even outright rejection. I’ll get better at disconnecting my work product (read: my writing) from my identity. Fear is the blocker here, and I don’t have to fear. At worst, I fail while daring greatly (to borrow from Brené Brown).

3. I can help others by sharing what I’ve learned. It doesn’t help anyone when I lock up my thoughts and learnings on a hard drive. My personality type (Enneagram 5, wing 6, for the initiated) means that I tend to hold back and share “my cards” only when absolutely necessary. Learning to live more openly means that I am successfully winning the battle against my fear that any information about me can and will be used against me. Besides, if I’m taking a risk by sharing what I’m learning with my readers with the intention of helping them, at least my motives are in the right place.

4. The act of writing helps me learn. If I don’t make space in my weekly workflow to write, I’m not living into the way I’m wired. To operate at my peak point of contribution, I require regular (weekly and sometimes daily) solitude and deep concentration to weave together the information I’ve been learning into lessons I can apply to the future. Having space to spell it out helps me learn the lessons as I attempt to communicate what I’ve learned. It’s like that quote attributed to John Dewey: “We do not learn from experience... we learn from reflecting on experience.”

5. Writing helps me improve as a writer. Writing is its own skill and craft. I want to improve as a writer, and it’s not possible to do without actually putting in the time writing. And having the courage to go back and remove most of your adverbs (*sigh* oh Stephen King).

So, what is this, then? It’s a (may I say “brave?”) new attempt at laying down my mask, being more generous and candid with my learning, and offering an opportunity for others (you, dear reader) to learn along with me. I can’t promise that every blog entry henceforth will be worth reading. In the cases I don’t feel right about publishing them, I’ll hold them back, because I don’t want to waste your time with worthless stuff to read. We all need fewer better things to read. I don’t intend to waste your time. But I also can’t promise that everything will be easily digestible, packaged neatly, and ready to go. If you want that, you’ll have to go to my very work in process project called The Wisdom Project.

Whether you know me personally or professionally (or don’t know me at all), I hope you’ll find value from reading these entries that share what I’m learning as I learn it. I am excited to finally do this—for years, I’ve thought about writing candidly about what I’m experiencing and publishing it, but fear has held me back. Fear and I hadn’t learned enough about the importance of executing in real time while also being a work in process. The reality is, if you’re a human being and you’re alive, you’re a work in process; nothing you do will be perfect, and you might as well be yourself and connect with others (as I’m now doing here), because the alternative is isolation, and that doesn’t help anyone.

And please, if you skipped to the end because you were bored by what I wrote or didn’t think you had the time to read it, gather your courage and tell me. I realize learning can be painful, and I will take the pain of uncomfortable feedback to help me learn. I want what I write to be gripping, worthwhile, insightful, and valuable, so whenever it’s a miss, I’d appreciate you letting me know.