A number of years ago, I practiced tae kwon do, a Korean martial art with an emphasis on kicks.
Tae means foot or to strike with the foot. Kwon means hand or to strike with the hand. Do means discipline, art, or way.
This art of the foot-hand-way taught me about practice. My instructor, Master Choi, often voiced: “Teresa, practice doesn’t make perfect, practice makes practice. It’s not about perfection, it’s about being in the practice.”
These words resonated as I listened to my grandson Jack express frustration while trying to dunk a basketball. I heard myself say: “It takes practice. All great athletes practice.”
My daughter chimed in: “You’ll get better with practice.”
Jack continued to aim for the hoop. While his frustration lessened, it didn’t immediately go away. He was not buying into our collective wisdom.
Many of us want to achieve instant results; we want to dunk the ball the first time. We want perfection and we want it without practice.
And yet, what does it really mean to practice? What is the art of practice all about?
In general terms, practice is defined as habitual or customary performance; repeated performance or systematic exercise for the purpose of acquiring a skill or proficiency or a condition arrived at by experience or exercise.
We all know that practicing anything can be a humbling experience. Even though we enter into practice with enthusiasm and expectation, we learn that practice can be more challenging and frustrating than we anticipated. It doesn’t always come naturally or easily.
We often enter into practice intending to improve or to change something. We believe, if we meditate daily, we will calm down and become a better person. If we practice making the shot, we will dunk the ball and become a better athlete.
While some of our beliefs may be true, do we really practice to get better or to change something?
Pema Chodron, a Buddhist nun, provides insight into the art of practice. She shares that people often enter into a spiritual practice with the intent to improve or transform themselves.
Yet a spiritual practice such as meditation is really about befriending who we already are. Right here, right now. This practice of self-realization allows us to get to know ourselves with interest and curiosity.
Practice doesn’t necessarily mean we need to change anything or become better at something. In fact, if we become so intent on changing or improving something, we may miss what is right in front of us.
One of the Buddhist teachings on self-realization is revealed in a story about four types of horses: the excellent horse, the good horse,the poor horse and the really bad horse.
The excellent horse is highly aware of the driver and the slightest sounds; this horse moves before the whip touches its back. The good horse moves at the lightest touch of the whip. The poor horse waits to feel the pain before moving, and the very bad horse doesn’t move until the pain intensifies and reaches its core.
Most of us want to be the excellent horse or at least second best. Yet the intent of our practice is not to become the best horse.
In fact, Buddhist teachings reveal that the very bad horse is most likely the best practitioner and the most valuable. It is often in our imperfections that we find our true selves. Those who have difficulty practicing will ultimately find more meaning.
This is a wonderful reminder that practice isn’t about being the best or the worst, it’s about finding our own true nature and voice so we can speak and act from this place. The practice of finding our own true nature is a continuous journey.
The art of practice is about trusting the basic goodness of who we already are, what we already have, and the wisdom that exists in all of it.
Practice doesn’t make perfect; practice makes practice, and it’s still wonderful when we dunk the ball the first time.
Teresa Schulz is a spiritual director, author, retreat facilitator and health care chaplain. She can be reached at taschulz56@gmail.com.
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