What’s one small improvement you can make in your life?
I started learning gymnastics when I was in grade 5. On the first day, we just watched what everyone was doing. They started with something called warm-ups and then moved along downstairs to the room to pick and assemble the equipment and the day ended with fitness exercises. It was amazing to see kids smaller than me and younger than me turn somersaults. Cartwheels were magical tricks and they made it all seem so easy. I was excited to learn this new sport because I assumed I would be tumbling around immediately. On the second day, we were asked to run 400 X 3 m around the track for warm-up. I flew like the world was on fire and that lasted for all of 400 m. then I just stopped, because I could not even breathe. Gasping for breath, I waited until the younger sibling reached me, she had been slow to start, and she came to me steadily. Then we walked together for a little distance, then I let her set the pace and we started to jog. This was my first lesson. Day 2 of gymnastics, where I realized that I had to go slow and learn slowly. The warm-up that had seemed so simple and easy the previous day, was exhausting and painful because we had never pushed our body so much. And then we went down, not to the equipment room. But to the “wall”.
The wall was this space in the gym where the newbies were sent. We had to do handstands there. Use one leg to kick yourself up, and try to stand on your hands, very simple theoretically, but realistically, with all the talking and giggling we used to do it took us almost 4 weeks to master this skill. Once this came through, then we were asked to learn and practice doing the cartwheels. That was another 5 weeks of practice and just like that we were two months into learning a super difficult sport. It was around this time that the coach realized I was also quite flexible and started training me a little more to improve. The aim was not the 180-degree split, but to do a split that was more than a 180-degree line, so, when I attempted it in a leap or while standing up, it would be a straight line. The effort was huge, the practice sessions brutal, but, in a few months, I was able to do an effortless split leap, that was an absolute straight line.
This is when I got obsessive about putting in that extra effort to get that little boost for a better reward. I did spend time with a few of the freshers at the gym hoping to influence them to put that little more effort into getting them to my level of ability. These efforts always started enthusiastically, but as they realized that the effort was painful, they quickly stepped back. I was never able to understand how they could just abandon it midway. And after trying to unsuccessfully encourage them a few more times, I would just write them off and ignore them.
Growing up, when Dad used to cook, he would cut the potatoes to a particular size before sautéing them in the pan. He would then add the dry spices and then would continue to toss them around on a low flame. Eventually, the potatoes would cook, and the combination of low heat and constant turning would evenly coat the tiny cubes of potatoes in a glorious golden hue. It was a painstakingly slow process, to get the perfect golden hue. If you increased the heat, then it would char and if you reduced the heat further, then it would not cook evenly and if you covered it, it would end up a squishy mess. This is the only dish I learned to make the way Dad made it. I even learned to cut it in those tiny perfect cube shapes and toss it at the right intervals to get it perfectly crisped all around.
This has been my trait ever since. I make the effort to learn to do things the way I’ve seen them done and I train or teach the same way, with all the details and explanations. But if you do not put in the effort that I expect you should be able to commit, then I lose my patience and give up on you. I’ve been told to tone down these expectations and have often been asked to not set such high standards in everything that I do. I’ve not yet mastered this, but I’m working on it.
I tried teaching the kids to make this potato dish, but watching how traumatic I was making it for the kids, my younger sibling stepped in. And then read me the riot act! I’m an “all or nothing” kind of person if I commit, then you have me 100%. I know that I expect the same from everyone else as well and this is tough for a lot of people to commit. Including the kids. And that was my mistake, to place that level of responsibility on anyone, let alone the kids. Today, I am aware of this, so I step back and allow them to learn. To make mistakes. To learn slowly. The important thing is to learn, that it’s not a race. And that’s my step towards wisdom and nirvana. I understand that it’s not fair to expect the same level of commitment from everyone that I put in. Because I know I’m unique and this is what sets me apart.
“Incremental improvements are the father of exceptionalism”
Robin Sharma
Just a little more 