Sometime not too distant,
There will come a day
When you will return to
A frequent state of play.
When that day comes around,
You'll have lost all concern
For the adults' belief that
Frivolity must be spurned.
You'll take to tossing balls
And climbing up the walls,
Just like you used to do
When you were one or two --
Before that human zoo
Got its hooks in you.
By the measure of having taught still useful lessons about HOW to think (those who taught me WHAT to think are largely forgotten along with their lessons,) that would be a tie between my 11th grade Psychology teacher and an undergrad Religious Studies professor. The former, among other ideas, first exposed me to what I would come to believe is the most important lesson of human existence under his label of the “gestalt of expectations.” [I’ve never heard anyone else refer to it as such, but the lesson was sound and I would latter find it in philosophies from Buddhism to Stoicism.] The latter teacher, among other ideas, exposed me to two common opposing modes of fallacious thinking, what he called “the outhouse fallacy” and “the first-est is best-est fallacy” (he was a folksy, if erudite, professor.)
In terms of personal growth and development, generally speaking, there are numerous teachers of martial arts, yoga, and other mind-body practices that are incomparable and thus unrankable. Not to mention, a sound argument can made for the repugnantly unhumble statement that I am my most influential (and most important) teacher. (I state this claim not as though I am unique, but as one that could apply to anyone.)
Heavy Indian Club movement patterns and the core tenets of Perennial Philosophy.
I’ve been learning to juggle. It’s an excellent skill because you have to fail a million times before you can be successful, and you can’t partially fail or fail in a controlled fashion. It’s kind of all or nothing. So, it teaches persistence and to be less prone to becoming demoralized. It also teaches one a lot about how one’s mind works at the speed of instinct.
I feel out of place in social settings pretty much everywhere and always. This, perhaps surprisingly, has made me an excellent and avid traveler because I feel the same level of out of place among a group of people who speak a different native language, practice an unfamiliar religion, and who have different skin and hair characteristics as I would with a group of people who share a common ancestry, went to the same school, and grew up with the same cultural trappings. This creates an internal pressure to go to unfamiliar places, because familiar places offer the same anxiety with none of the learning opportunities, whereas the unfamiliar always offers new lessons.
There are so many. Life is short and there’s so much to learn. There are swim strokes (and related skills) I’d like to pick up, including drownproofing. I never learned to drive a proper motorcycle. Archery would be nifty.
What are you curious about?
Everything. But I have learned to be less obsessed with the grand metaphysical questions for which no one has any defensible answers – just rank speculation. Socrates convinced me it’s not worth worrying about abstractions while one is still struggling with fundamental questions of how to be human.
What makes a teacher great?
If a student (or students) voluntarily and enthusiastically come to learn from an individual, that individual is a great teacher.
The emphasis is on “to learn” because some people confuse great charisma with great pedagogy, but such people go to the charismatic person to take comfort from being in that person’s presence, not to learn — despite whatever truisms or clever-sounding parallel grammatical structures the charismatic individual might spout.
So, if one would go to an individual seeking knowledge, knowing the experience will be challenging and not merely comforting, one has found a great teacher.
Words memorized rote are a meal wholly undigested, That's why memorization is utterly detested. Rote learning is, somehow, bloating and yet never filling. One takes it all in by way of monotonous drilling, but while you're still filling your cup you're already spilling. You pass your test and purge it all. It's so unfulfilling. If I may, please let me suggest that here's what you should do: get the gist, play with it, and find out what it means to you.
Proust and the Squid: The Story and Science of the Reading Brain by Maryanne Wolf
Tiger Riding for Beginners 