On his 51st birthday, writer H. Jackson Brown decided to jot down some of the lessons he had learned during his lifetime. As the top of a sheet of paper, he wrote, “I’ve learned that…” and came up with 25 lessons. So enjoyable was this excerise, he soon asked others to do the same thing. Before long he had hundreds of lessons people had learned in life. He compiled these lessons into a little book, Live and Learn and Pass It On. Here are three samples from individuals identified only by their age:

+ “I’ve learned that trust is the single most important factor in both personal and professional relationships.” (age 20)

+ “I’ve learned that even when I have pains, I don’t have to be a pain.” (age 82)

+”I’ve learned that you shouldn’t confuse a brown crayon with a Tootsie Roll.” (age 10)

Being a life-long learner is vital to a successful (and dare I say?) happy life. Says political scientist Benjamin Barber, “The question to ask is not whether you are a success or failure, but whether you are a learner or a non-learner.” It was the English statesman Disraeli who identified the “three pillars of learning”: seeing much, studying much (I prefer to say reflecting or pondering much) and suffering much.

Seeing: All learning begins with attention, with seeing, with noticing things. Good teachers know this. The success of a lesson largely depends on getting and sustaining their students’ attention.

Reflecting and pondering. But learning demands more than merely noticing things. It requires reflecting on what we notice or experience. Scientist Rebecca Rupp defined science as “a long and careful look beneath and beyond the world’s skin.” We can say that all learning involves a long and careful look beneath and beyond the surface of things.

Suffering. If we want to learn, we must be open to the possibility of pain. Yes, learning can sometimes be a pleasure and a joy, but the greatest lessons in life often entail some form of suffering. For example, when the little girl was asked how she learned to skate, she replied, “By getting up every time I fell.” Suffering can be the hard work involved with learning anything: how to grow a garden, how to raise a child, how to be a good leader, and even how to deal with the pain of loss.

If teachability is so important in life, then what are some warning signs that we are NOT teachable? Here are three.

1) When we are not present to where we actually are. If we are always preoccupied with the past or the future, we can miss seeing what is going on around us and inside of us here and now. If we are totally wrapped up in our own concerns, we can miss noticing the pain of a loved one, the goodness of our neighbor, the scent of lilacs in the air, the fear in the eyes of a child.

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2) When we think we know it all. If we think we know everything, then there’s no reason to learn anything knew. Wise people, on the other hand, know there’s always more to learn. And they know we can learn from all kinds of individuals–older or younger, highly educated or with little formal schooling, good friend or apparent foe. And we can learn in all kinds of circumstances–exciting or boring, stormy or calm, planned or totally unexpected.

3) When we try to shield ourselves from pain or suffering. When we’ve been hurt, we sometimes withdraw from engagement with other people and sometimes even from life itself. Years ago I studied with someone whom I suspected had been seriously hurt in the past. Although she was pleasant enough, she steered clear of every type of personal engagement with others that could lead to conflict. She said to me one day, “I don’t let anyone or anything bother me anymore. I tell people, ‘You live your life and I’ll live mine.'” I felt bad for her, for engaging with others is well-worth any “bother” it might be. For such engagements can often lead us to nourishing relationships and a meaningful life. After all, didn’t Jesus say, “Love one another?” How can we do that if we never engage with another?

One of my favorite cartoons is “Calvin and Hobbes” by Bill Watterson. Calvin, you may remember, was a little boy who had a stuffed tiger named Hobbes. Hobbes was inanimate if other people were around, but when Calvin was alone, Hobbes came to life and was Calvin’s wise friend. There’s one cartoon that says something about learning.

Calvin and Hobbes are talking together. In the first panel, Calvin says, “I don’t want to go to school. I don’t want to know anything new!”

In the second panel, he says, “I already know more than I want to. I liked things better when I didn’t understand them!”

In the third, he says angrily, “The fact is, I’m being educated against my will. My rights are being trampled!”

In the final panel, Hobbes asks Calvin, “Is it a right to remain ignorant?”

Calvin says, “I don’t know, but I refuse to find out.”

For reflection:

On a scale of 1 to 10 (1 being unteachable and 10 being very teachable), where would you rate yourself? Why?

What are some of the ways you take time to reflect and ponder your personal life, the people you engage with, the things that are happening in your life, our country, our world? (One hint: you’re reading this blog, aren’t you?)

Can you give a time when pain or suffering led you to greater and more valuable knowledge than you had before the pain and suffering?

Did any of the photos capture your attention today?

PS: Thank you for your prayers for the retreat I led at Assisi Heights in Rochester, MN. There were over 100 retreatants: Sisters, cojourners, and lay people. They attended the retreat inperson, on closed circuit TV, and via Zoom. I want to say a BIG thank you to the retreat staff–especially Sister Linda, Sister Judi, and Bob our tech person who helped make the retreat run so smoothly for us all. This particular group of Franciscan Sisters were the Sisters who partnered with Doctor William Mayo and his two sons to start the Mayo Clinic in 1883. That story is so fascinating, I plan to write about it soon in a future blog. Stay tuned!

PS #2: A Happy and Blessed Memorial Weekend to all of You! Let us give thanks for all those men and women who sacrificed their lives for our freedom and for the freedom of people all over the world!

Our song today is “Teach Me Thy Way, O Lord.” The words and music are by Mansell Ramsey and the song is sung here by Sarah Baute. It is a fitting prayer for this reflection.

I invite you to leave a comment below. Our readers and I always enjoy hearing from you!