Replying to LO23859 --
AT replies to my comments:
> Your reply made me think very deep.
>
> Let us assume that eventually "someone hits on the simplest and most
> elegant phrase". How will life be afterwards?
Life will be the same, only reacher in fact.
> Will we still need dialogue since a mere peep at the
> "simplest and most
> elegant phrase" will save us from the poison of
> misunderstanding? Will the
> concept Learning Organisation not become superfluous since
> everybody will
> know exactly what to do to make life heaven for anybody else?
Nothing, not even dialogue, will save us from the "poison of
misunderstanding" while we are part of a largely uneducated society (or
are there 3,000 or more societies which correspond to languages and
dialects? religions, vocations, avocations? I see an exponent at work
here....)
> This makes me wonder how much do we confuse our need for a theory and
> practise on any domain with our need for a Learning
> Organisation whenever
> involved as individuals with that domain. Are we not trying
> to replace the
> Learning Organisation by trying to create the perfect art (theory and
> practice)?
Without theory, there is no learning. Theory is why we learn. Even the
unspoken (tacit) theory, which says "I must survive" creates a need for a
learning organization, or in the case of we trekkers, at least personal
mastery. The perfect art, as you call it, AT, is learning itself. The
ability to listen (for the survivor, to the movement of the grass or
gravel, changes in the tone of a stream, shadows, etc.) to our environment
and learn from it, know about it, and become a part of it. The more
complexity we think about (rather than accept as constant input which we
filter for danger, comfort, action required, etc.) the less elegance we
practice. If I stop to wonder about the formation of an eddy current when
I am fishing for trout, it is not to know the history of the geology of
the river bed, it is to know which way the trout is facing in order to
best present my fur and feathers for his inspection and hopeful interest,
ergo: my lunch.
The microworld of the trout stream is where I know best my relationship to
the planet. My concentration of the mayfly, dragonfly, caddis, stone, and
dobson, as well as minnows, crawfish, and other aquatic edibles of trout
delight has gotten me in trouble with coyotes, bear, snakes, and even
humans. For me, the theory and the practice have become one, and I must
enter into dialogue with other members of the practice in order to reduce
the complexity of the trout's microworld to one of a simple and elegant
theory: To catch a trout you must become a trout. Descriptive adequacy
and explanatory adequacy must be from the perspective of the trout hunter,
not the trout. It's becoming a trout that can place you between a mother
bear and her cubs AND their meal. I no longer am a trout. It's too
dangerous. But I know the theory is simple and elegant and the practice
requires secondary and tertiary domains of practice to be active while
practicing it.
John F. Zavacki
jzavacki@greenapple.com <mailto:jzavacki@greenapple.com>
"If at first the idea is not absurd, then there is no hope for it."
--Albert
--"John Zavacki" <jzavacki@greenapple.com>
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