“A ceramics teacher announced on opening day that he was dividing the class into two groups. All those on the left side of the studio, he said, would be graded solely on the quantity of work they produced, all those on the right side solely on its quality.
His procedure was simple: on the final day of class he would bring in his bathroom scales and weigh the work of the “quantity” groups: fifty pounds of pots rated an A, forty pounds a B, and so on. Those being graded on “quality,” however, needed to produce only one pot – albeit a perfect one – to get an A.
Well, come grading time a curious fact emerged: the works of highest quality were all produced by the group being graded for quantity. It seems that while the “quantity” group was busily churning out piles of work and learning from their mistakes, the “quality” group had sat theorizing about perfection, and in the end had little more to show for their efforts than grandiose theories and a pile of dead clay.”
FROM ART AND FEAR – By David Bayles and Ted Orland
Grace is often born of awkwardness; those first fruitless attempts to put the ball in the hole or get it back over the net. How many times do you have to get back up on your skates or your snowboard before it begins to feel natural? How many jump shots in the driveway before you find your stroke and your spot?
When we are children, when we are playing, it seems easier to make the mistakes we need to make to move from ugly duckling to swan. Because, of course, they aren’t mistakes – they’re explorations. We discover what works, what doesn’t – a little more of this, a little less of that. We smooth out the rough spots till the movement flows and we get what we want. Did we create it or discover it? Both I would guess.
Arts and athletics teach us the spiritual truth that grace finds her form in the real world through practice. Both the flowing movements that we see during the competition and the qualities of character that make sports so great take practice. Speed, strength and agility, along with teamwork, sacrifice, and compassion; developed, honed and refined over time, through practice.
So, I’m invited to set aside the “idea of perfect” today and instead to explore and play. Take the first hundred shots, the first twenty runs down the hill, throw the fifty pound of clay and pay attention. Notice where grace is beginning to emerge and follow her invitation. Where will your practice and play take you this week?