Muscle Memory
I was going to follow the What I'm . . . theme and call this blog "What I'm doing . . ." but what it's really about is muscle memory.
Muscle memory is what your body -- and your brain -- learns to do from having done it. More than once. Again and again. Over and over. Day after day.
It's what Yo-Yo Ma uses when he plays the cello. His fingers can do what they do because they've done it so many times. He's spent so much time playing that his fingers simply remember what they're supposed to do.
It's what Brett Favre uses when he's in a game situation. He knows the playbook. But what he does is react on an instantaneous level to whatever is coming at him. It changes -- but within parameters. And the more he plays, the more he has seen the many things an opposing team can throw at him. He's been there, done that -- and done it more than once. And so chances are good he can do what needs to be done again.
It's what Tiger Woods uses when he hits a golf ball. All those stories about his dad taking him out and teaching him how to swing when he was barely knee-high support the notion that his muscle memory is so deeply ingrained that they know what to do.
It's the same when David Beckham makes a corner kick, when Andre Agassi hits a tennis ball, when Adriano Moraes rides a bull. They do it with the confidence and competence that comes with long years of practice -- of their muscles and their minds learning what needs to be done.
It's what artists do. It's what actors do. It's learning the craft and then trusting what you -- and your well-trained muscles -- know.
As writers, we have trained our own muscles -- not just to work and play with words which are, of course, our material and our tools -- but simply to show up.
Most people think they have a book in them. Everyone has a story they want to tell. But the ones who actually tell the stories are the ones whose muscles have been trained to sit down at the keyboard or curl up with a pad and pen or bang away on a typewriter day after day after day.
On days when Flynn and Sarah, the current hero and heroine, are incommunicado, I still show up. I try to prod them. And if I don't get anything useful out of them, I still write. Sometimes the mere act of writing will unleash something creatively useful. Sometimes sitting at the computer reading what someone else has written will make some synapse inside my brain click.
Today it was reading Trish Morey's comments on the Pink Heart Society blog. She, too, was writing about muscle memory, though she never used the term. Her words about the rower who made it look easy resonated with me. It's what we all strive for in what matters to us, in what we value and want to be good at.
I've been corresponding with a number of genealogists on an email list recently about British records sites. I remember when I knew next to nothing about what was available in the way of British records once I got beyond parish records and civil registration. But by virtue of showing up, reading, studying, ordering films -- doing the research -- I learned. My brain learned. My muscles learned. And now, faced with a new challenge, they remember. They know what to do. They're not always good at it yet, but they have ideas. They are ready to go out and meet more challenges, to dig deeper, learn more.
So that, basically, is what I'm doing -- writing, researching, cleaning my house (check out FlyLady if you want a take on using muscle memory and routine for getting your house and life under control), and looking for tickets to Ireland. I'm getting pretty good at this last, too!
Muscle memory is what your body -- and your brain -- learns to do from having done it. More than once. Again and again. Over and over. Day after day.
It's what Yo-Yo Ma uses when he plays the cello. His fingers can do what they do because they've done it so many times. He's spent so much time playing that his fingers simply remember what they're supposed to do.
It's what Brett Favre uses when he's in a game situation. He knows the playbook. But what he does is react on an instantaneous level to whatever is coming at him. It changes -- but within parameters. And the more he plays, the more he has seen the many things an opposing team can throw at him. He's been there, done that -- and done it more than once. And so chances are good he can do what needs to be done again.
It's what Tiger Woods uses when he hits a golf ball. All those stories about his dad taking him out and teaching him how to swing when he was barely knee-high support the notion that his muscle memory is so deeply ingrained that they know what to do.
It's the same when David Beckham makes a corner kick, when Andre Agassi hits a tennis ball, when Adriano Moraes rides a bull. They do it with the confidence and competence that comes with long years of practice -- of their muscles and their minds learning what needs to be done.
It's what artists do. It's what actors do. It's learning the craft and then trusting what you -- and your well-trained muscles -- know.
As writers, we have trained our own muscles -- not just to work and play with words which are, of course, our material and our tools -- but simply to show up.
Most people think they have a book in them. Everyone has a story they want to tell. But the ones who actually tell the stories are the ones whose muscles have been trained to sit down at the keyboard or curl up with a pad and pen or bang away on a typewriter day after day after day.
On days when Flynn and Sarah, the current hero and heroine, are incommunicado, I still show up. I try to prod them. And if I don't get anything useful out of them, I still write. Sometimes the mere act of writing will unleash something creatively useful. Sometimes sitting at the computer reading what someone else has written will make some synapse inside my brain click.
Today it was reading Trish Morey's comments on the Pink Heart Society blog. She, too, was writing about muscle memory, though she never used the term. Her words about the rower who made it look easy resonated with me. It's what we all strive for in what matters to us, in what we value and want to be good at.
I've been corresponding with a number of genealogists on an email list recently about British records sites. I remember when I knew next to nothing about what was available in the way of British records once I got beyond parish records and civil registration. But by virtue of showing up, reading, studying, ordering films -- doing the research -- I learned. My brain learned. My muscles learned. And now, faced with a new challenge, they remember. They know what to do. They're not always good at it yet, but they have ideas. They are ready to go out and meet more challenges, to dig deeper, learn more.
So that, basically, is what I'm doing -- writing, researching, cleaning my house (check out FlyLady if you want a take on using muscle memory and routine for getting your house and life under control), and looking for tickets to Ireland. I'm getting pretty good at this last, too!
posted by Anne McAllister at 12:14 PM
2 Comments:
i certainly remember using muscle memory back years ago when i played guitar. it becomes very strange, because you can play -- but you can't tell someone where to put his fingers.
i've often wondered if muscle memory is involved in some chronic pain. i know i've sometimes experienced the return of pain by simply entering a situation where i've experienced pain before.
I know exactly what you mean about the guitar, Anne. I played it when I was in school -- and I can still play most everything I played then, just picking up a guitar and playing. The fingers remember. The brain, however, seems not to have a clue about this. At least the part of the brain I think with!
Maybe you're right about the chronic pain thing, too. I don't know as I've been fortunate enough not to have it -- except at the dentist when I think it may be muscle tension as much as memory.
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