Could you ever stop learning? Does education have no end? They say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, but how do you know when you’re an old dog?

Intelligence is a funny thing, just when you think you’ve got the hang of something, new information can come to light and rearrange your thinking entirely.

Your old noggin might feel plenty flexible until you put it to the test, that’s why it’s always good to remember that it’s much like any other muscle, there’s a use-it-or-lose-it aspect to it.

If you’re like me, you can probably remember when your first cell phone showed up in your hand. And with it, the ability to enter a number, save a contact, and never think about the digits again.

Prior to that, you might have carried around a little address book with your important numbers written in it. Maybe you had a folded scrap of paper in your wallet or bag. Or my personal favorite, the big clunky desktop Rolodex where you could write someone’s info or even staple their card and spin it around.

Beyond all those names and numbers that you kept on file, I’ll bet there was a handful of numbers you kept handy inside your head. I know I could dial up at least a dozen people without even thinking about it. I knew their numbers by heart, with nothing more than a quarter and a pay phone I could ring them right up.

Whether I could now is an open question. “Hey Siri, call so-and-so” is a heck of a lot easier. But has my brain atrophied? I certainly hope not. Neuroplasticity is a hot topic these days, and rightfully so.

All sorts of studies and scientific research make it amply clear that keeping the old bean on its toes so to speak is a good idea. Brain games, jigsaw puzzles, language learning, and of course dance, are all proven to keep things firing on all cylinders between your ears well into your golden years.

We all know someone who is ‘set in their ways’. You ask them why they do something a certain way and they’re tell you it’s because that’s the way they’ve always done it.

With me, it was an egg. In my long association with the little ovoid nuggets they’ve generally been cooked in some way or another. The shells were for tossing aside, unless they were hard-boiled.

Imagine my perplexity as I faced my first soft-boiled egg on Friday. The place we were staying had fresh eggs and a timer, a boiling water bath, and little metal dippers for the dunking.

They also had those little porcelain doohickeys that hold an egg by its bottom, leaving the top naked and exposed. I’ve somehow avoided them up until know, the concept was foreign to me.

I dipped the egg. I set the timer. And I was treated to a demonstration of how one properly uses the edge of a spoon to gently crack the dome of the egg. Voilà! A delicate cauldron of delight.

Spooned on toast? Sublime! How could I have missed this all these years? More than anything I was well chuffed (as they say in the UK) that there were still more Eureka! moments to be had.

You might not learn something new every day, but it’s good to know there’s still some room in there!

The world is your oyster, may a pearl be yours.

Merci et à bientôt!

M+

ML #701

Mark Metz
Monday Love Movement Calendar