Recently I was invited to attend an awards ceremony for a professional friend in a different field of work than the arts. My friend is a retired sports pro, and was receiving an award for outstanding accomplishment in his field. Years prior, I had the pleasure of teaching his son, and over time we became friends throughout the process.
There was a luncheon after the ceremony and it gave us a good chance to catch up and talk and share laughs about life’s crazy ride. He had a new shiny trophy, but it was apparent he had long since packed up his passion, purpose, and drive – and sadly his sense of contribution.
As the conversation meandered, we talked about giving back and I mentioned to him that now that he was no longer competing, perhaps he should consider teaching and opening a school under his name. The benefits of his teaching would be numerous, and he could provide a leg up to young rising athletes in his field. His sport certainly aided him in attaining a hearty position of wealth, so I illuminated the fact that he could establish a very unique school, built around his vision, his specialized knowledge, and his recognizable name.
To my surprise he recoiled, rebuffing the suggestion. His justification was that he had achieved his personal success because of his unorthodox approach, and he not only felt it was unteachable, but in today’s game he believed his method would be dismissed. I quickly attempted to point out that was the exact reason why he should teach.
He was indeed unorthodox, an iconic rule breaker, and he did ruffle feathers. That’s exactly what he could teach, as well as why. That knowledge could benefit many rising in his field. It was his gut instinct that was uniquely valuable, and beneficial to so many. But he shut down the conversation quickly, so I changed to a different approach. I said, “Well, if not a school, how about a book? His response was, “I’m not a writer.” Of course, anyone who knows me knows the next words out of my mouth were, “That’s why they invented ghost writers.”
It is your specialized knowledge that matters, lots of people can help you get it organized. Why take it with you? It’s your unique gift to share. Again he shut down the conversation. So I let it be, but it bugged me, and that’s the point of this column.
The old adage “Those who can, do; and those who can’t, teach,” is absolutely BS, and true for either side of the discussion. This athlete was totally intimidated by the thought of having to explain his instincts, or trying to find the best way to explain what was natural to him. There is no debate that performance garners the best understanding of a craft. But teaching is also a craft, and it benefits both the teacher and the student – and we are both, on any given day.
My friend and I differ in philosophy. There is an art form to performance, teaching, and writing. That much is irrefutable, but the bigger point that was being overlooked is the understanding that giving to others and sharing specialized knowledge is a higher calling then performance alone. There; I said it! Teachers and writers take a bow.
The secret is that you meet yourself in every sharing. When you teach, you grow as well as the student and that serves the industry as a whole. When you write, you reflect, and that also serves the art form. Any form of sharing advances the art.
Even lousy execution advances the art form or the sport. Lousy is counterpoint; it sheds light illuminating excellence. With out “lousy,” you have no way to understand “excellent.” So every aspect of expression matters, and if you don’t find ways to give back, you are a bottle of fine wine that is never opened.
I walked away from the moment with the oddest feeling. I knew I had figured something out, something that my friend hadn’t yet discovered. It’s giving something away that empowers us, because it’s never ours in the first place. Whatever our specialized knowledge is, if not shared then that knowledge diminishes in value. When you don’t share your specialized knowledge You are a chef with no restaurant, you are an athlete with no field, you are a musician with no instrument. It is giving away our knowledge that makes us hunger for more. We return to being the student, and that is the best seat at the show.
It’s simple really: leave it better than you found it.
