A new self-image: the grindstone [019]
The Daily Grind
Every morning, I start with a cup of coffee. I’d love to tell a story about how I grind my own beans and weave a narrative of working with my hands, but alas — a hand-grinder is really expensive, so I get my beans pre-ground by someone else.
Still, making the coffee is a small ritual I do by hand every morning. It takes patience and timing to bloom the beans before brewing; I have to adjust for new beans and grinds; and you don’t get instant coffee; you have to wait.
Good things come to those who wait; better things to those who grind.
I fail a lot
Just yesterday, a senior at work remarked on my work: “Nothing to be impressed by.” It stung like a slap on the cheeks; let’s first acknowledge it felt like a dismissal, a put-down, and demoralising to hear.
But I had to ask: why did it feel bad?
I think I’m special. I think I am; but I have to prove it. Have I really shown anything special? No, not really, not lately.
I remember a previous boss asking me, “What have you done for me lately?”, which was a painful indictment, but rang true elsewhere. “You’re only as good as your last game”, from athletic sports, and “You’re only as good as your last joke” from Jimmy Carr.
Ego is the enemy, I suppose; I felt like I was great, I deserved recognition and praise for getting here. Maybe that’s true, but that’s also in the past. I was great; now to prove that I am great and will continue to be great, present continuous tense.
The Obstacle is the Way
Lately I’ve been playing a bit of Hades II. I like roguelikes; a genre of game where you play, inevitably die to a monster, and restart again coming back to live again only to play and die.
Live, Die, Repeat.
Over and over, throwing yourself against a problem until you figure it out. Along the way you unlock little tricks to help you, but sometimes you just get better, more familiar with the problem, and before you realise it you are better.
I truly believe I have no talent. Maybe a few knacks or quirks here and there; but I have no innate, god-given, awesome talent. What I do have is humility and grind. I will out-work my opponents; I will grind through problems, I will keep trying until my code works and I finish the assignment.
Trees have patience, and they fight everybody. They fight the depressing, deadening pull of gravity that tempts them to slump defeated on the ground. They fight the very ground they live in, terraforming and bashing through earth or even cracking stones with the patience of time with their persistence. Their greatest foe, radiation and time, they turn into sustenance, the obstacle is the way, and they absorb it into themselves and use it as fuel to grow bigger, to face more challenges, to fight again and again.
Machine Learning For Humans
A big part of machine learning is “brute force”; trying, failing, adjusting, and trying again. The way we use ‘machine’ as an adjective echoes that; repeatedly, continuously, tirelessly working, constantly bashing away until the task is done.
Grindstones work by throwing themselves at a problem. Not exactly; the grindstone turns, and slowly the surfaces wear away at the edge of the knife or tool until it’s sharp enough. Brute force, sort of, but also simple patience and effort and time. Turning again and again, until the job is done, like gears in a bigger machine, or the cogs in a clock, time and time again.
For all that I’m studying artificial intelligence, maybe this is the real lesson for human intelligence: trying and trying again, tirelessly, until it gets through.
I’ve got no history in programming. I don’t even have talent. What I do have is time, focus, and a touch of clarity and purpose. I’m not where I want to be, but I can go to there, with the patience and self-cultivation of a tree, and the focus of a grindstone.
I grind, I fail, I grind again.