"Oh. I actually did it."
I don't know why I was surprised. By the age of twelve, I'd thrown so many objects I should have been able to knock a hummingbird out of the air with a pebble from twenty yards. Not that I'd want to. Yet, while winging a rock at the house across the street, I was astonished I'd actually shattered the window. That window on the bottom left. The exact window I was aiming for. The trajectory of my excitement mirrors that of the rock. As it left my hand, I marveled at its accurate line. As it rose through the air, I was awed by the distance it might cover. But as it reached its apex and began the descent, my excitement became dread as potential and reality drew closer to each other. I froze in place after hearing the unmistakable sound of breaking glass, then did what kids do when trouble strikes. I fled the scene.
It's one thing to set out to cause mischief by breaking a window. There's already a name for that: Vandalism. But this was not that. My goal was not to do wrong, it was to test my accuracy. And I passed the test. So surely the next step was to run away in a panic. It was not. In fact, there was no next step. And this is the reason many good intentions meet an untoward end.
The next step.
Short-sightedness is an expected quality of immature brains. I was twelve when I thought it'd be cool to see if I could reach the house across the street with a rock. My son was eleven yesterday when he thought it'd be acceptable to leave the house for school without a jacket on a 28º autumn morning. What's supposed to separate us from the animals (a.k.a. children) is the ability to project our mind a minimum of one step further into the future. Or, at the very least, the ability to gather the minimum viable criteria for a yes or no decision so it can crawl clumsily out of the "whim" category like a tetrapod leaving the ocean for dry land. So maybe I am strong enough to reach the house across the street with this rock. What will my future look like if I hit it? And what is the minimum temperature required for me to stand at the bus stop for 10 minutes in short sleeves without shivering so hard my shoelaces come untied? These are supposed to be the high-minded inquiries we visualize before we take action.
My hockey coach used to say, "Know where you've been, know where you are, and know where you're goin'." He was tough. He was scary. He was blue-collar. And he had false teeth that popped out if he screamed "fuck!" too loud. But he was wise. And while rationality is not an area in which humans are particularly skilled, that's exactly what he preached. He wanted us to make sure what we did made sense not just now, but in the next moment and in retrospect. Good anticipation instincts are a byproduct of the practice of playing it forward in our minds. Ideally, we go far enough to validate the decision, but not so far that it inhibits action. For example, I don't need to visualize my long, winding journey to age 88 on a gurney with debilitating plantar fasciitis before I can pull the trigger on these Asics trail runners. But I might want to consider taking the extra time to find a legal parking spot instead of risking getting towed. Because "It's only for 5 minutes" risks turning into an entire day and hundreds in fees if it goes south.
The things we target are more important than our ability to hit them. We can always improve our accuracy, but it doesn't matter how dead your eye is if you always shoot the wrong guy.
Choose your targets wisely.
Thanks for reading. Let’s do this again next week.