Progress

At the age of 90, the famous cellist Pablo Casals was asked why he continued to practice.

His reply: “Because I think I’m making progress”.

Twenty five wheelbarrow loads of top soil later and four exotic African proteas planted out in hollowed out sections from the tree that fell two weeks ago, a friend’s motorhome is now able to enter through the gate without too much of a hassle and park it trouble free in the newly created wallaby proof lawned and flowered area next to the veggie patch.

It doesn’t look like much, this new area, as the progress in building it is incremental, but it is, even if small, a new addition to Windgrove.

In many ways, it is hard to stop doing the work around here — even though my body aches for a rest — because I think I’m “always” making progress with the garden, with my sculpture, with my grumpiness, with my ability to talk convincingly about climate change, even with my tennis.

Come to think of it, even plants never give up practicing. Hence, evolution.

What would have happened, if 600 million years ago the Ediacarans in the ancient oceans decided that they didn’t need to keep practicing and improving their form. You and I certainly wouldn’t be writing or reading this blog, that’s for sure.

So, we can safely say that: Evolution is a process that never doubts for a moment that it isn’t making progress. What Pablo Casals said, therefore, has been ingrained in our DNA since time first began.

Nothing ever stops wanting to improve. Even if it takes a million years.

That’s what my tennis coach keeps saying to me: “It’ll be a million years before that serve gets any good.”

Guess, I’ll just keep practicing.