Sharpening the Grater
I used to think of my mind as a sword. It just needed sharpening.
That fit my Zen narrative, having come from the martial arts. Real things are hard and take a long time. I pictured myself working the blade with a soft cloth, a little at a time. Doable, but it would take years.
What I didn’t realize was that I didn’t have a sword. I had a cheese grater.
A sword has one edge, pointed in one direction. A grater has hundreds, pointed everywhere. Whatever you bring to it comes out in pieces, and a lot of it ends up stuck in the holes.
So I’d been trying to slice a watermelon with it. The work, the people, the quiet evening. All of it came out a mess.
All those years I thought I was sharpening the sword, I was sharpening the grater. The effort was real. It was just aimed at the wrong tool.
Here’s the part that finally made sense of it all. A grater doesn’t sharpen into a sword. You can clean out the holes and it works the way it was meant to.
I was not a dull blade waiting on years of work. I was a tool with the wrong job description, and I’d built an entire practice around a version of myself that didn’t exist. The cleaning took a minute. The misdiagnosis took decades.
I was looking for a precise life. Make the one cut and your job is done. Next.
But the juice lies in the surface area. It takes a lot of effort and it creates a big mess, but this is the life I want to live.