Learning Through Change
I recently bought a few rings made from different materials than what I usually wear. I chose these materials for no reason other than variety of color. One ring is made of brass and one of bronze. I knew in the back of my mind that they weren’t typical materials for contemporary jewelry, but didn’t really consider why. I quickly discovered the reason is that both materials react with skin oils turning the oils that are always on your skin a greenish hue.
I think most people would immediately stop wearing the rings or coat them with clear nail polish to avoid the reaction. Not me. I’m oddly drawn to the observable changes that happen in nature — especially the ones that occur without intervention. After some minimal research, I learned that once a patina forms on the rings, the green reaction might stop. Ever the experimenter, I’ve continued to wear them to see if that proves true.
Watching, waiting, and trying things to see what will happen is at its core, how we learn and how we discover new things. This is a very basic example of what scientist call entropy – the natural tendency of things to move toward disorder or change over time. “Order” in this definition is the clean metal and “disorder” is the chemical reactions occurring over time. Observing that processes happen spontaneously, without forcing them is what entropy is all about.
The same principle applies to learning about ourselves. We often begin with a narrow idea of who we are and what we can do — and only by trying, failing, and observing do we uncover new skills and interests. Entropy and failure are closely connected. Both disrupt the neat picture we had in mind. But if we embrace that disruption, we allow room for transformation.
For example, when we’re drawing a picture with a goal of making a recognizable elephant and accidentally make the trunk too long or give it 5 feet, this could be a considered a failure if we are set on the outcome of a recognizable elephant. But if we are open to the possibility of drawing something other than an elephant, we can embrace the joy of exploring what our mind and manual dexterity can do. A beautiful image can be the result, but only if we see ourselves as having unknown qualities that no matter how old we are, we can continue to explore.
Learning how to draw is an example of trying something that will have different outcomes based on the ingredients you put in – your intended output, your state of mind, the materials you are using, and the number of times you have tried drawing with each of the different variables. Each time you try, you are learning about your own abilities so you can try different combinations until you get to a result you like. As you get older, your abilities may change and what you like may change. We, as humans, are part of the natural world and continue to have an entropic nature throughout our lives.
Entropy and unpredictability aren’t bad — they are the forces that drive evolution, art, learning, and growth. The more we experiment, observe, and accept variation, the more we understand our place in the ever-changing system of the natural world. We’re not separate from it — we are it. And like the patina on a ring, our knowledge, abilities, and identities form layer by layer through change.