Fallton Havenstonne

To think fast, or on one’s feet, it takes practice. To make good decisions fast doesn’t happen naturally. When we make decisions under pressure (i.e., with little to no time), we make decisions that are instinctual–intuitive.

Such decisions don’t account for all the variables or long term consequences of a situation. They are more like “survival-mode” decisions, or decisions based on what seems right at the moment. But in certain situations, they are better than not making any decision at all.

For example, we have to think fast during conversations. We ask ourselves, is what this person saying is true, or is it not true? If we’re having a debate or a discussion, we have to have practice on how to explain our ideas, how to provide evidence, how to make a case for our claim. Or if we’re on a job interview, we have to know how to respond to questions we may not have expected. And if we’re on the job and something isn’t going as planned, we have to think of another solution, one that we can’t spend days on, but only have hours to complete.

To think fast, one has to have experience, as well as the knowledge to encounter the unknown–to handle the pressure when there is very little time. Making mistakes is part of the process. It builds a repertoire of things we know not to do again. Besides, if we’re making decisions that are fast and intuitive, we need to have encountered similar situations before.

Growing up, I had always used film cameras. Even in college, I preferred film cameras to digital ones. This was in the early ’00s, and at that time, I really enjoyed the process of developing film on photo paper. I had fun using the different filters in the dark room, and controlling the contrast and tonality of the images based on the timing of the light exposure on photo paper.

Twenty years later, I’ve been using the same film camera that I used in college. But more recently, I had done so less given how expensive it has gotten to develop the rolls. The cost to buy the film, plus the cost to develop it, not to mention the wait time as it’s being developed, has made me reconsider using it compared to a digital camera.

A digital SLR camera has the same functionality as a film camera, and more. Instead of the images being stored on a negative, which has to be developed, the images are stored on a memory card, which can be plugged in and downloaded onto a computer in no time. Essentially, a digital camera gives you instant access to the photos, whereas a film camera cost time and money before the images can even be seen.

One of the main reasons that I had been using a film camera all these years was because of the reward I got after picking up the photos from a store and seeing how great they turned out without any edits on a computer. When snapping a picture with a film camera, I have to imagine what the photo will look like based on the aperture setting, the lighting, etc. To see that the a photo came out great based on the settings is a rewarding experience. If a photo comes out under or overexposed, I use it as a learning experience–of what to avoid or do differently next time.

But with a digital camera, I can see what the image looks like it the second after I take it. And if I’m not happy with it, I can simply delete it–try again. There’s no cost in time nor money to develop the roll and see that I took a bad photo. Just reshoot it on different settings there on the spot.

As technology continues to improve, the gap between digital vs. mechanical technology (i.e., film cameras) will widen. The bells and whistles that are added to newer technology will make the older ones seem primitive and outdated in comparison. Similar to a car that has a cassette tape player versus one with a CD player versus one with bluetooth.

But that’s not to say that mechanical devices, such as film cameras, aren’t effective or are obsolete. On the contrary, the film camera that I’ve been using is well over 20 years old, and it still works fine, giving me excellent results. It’s durable too, and I haven’t had to repair it. It does exactly what it’s designed to do, no more, no less. But for now, it can retire.

When we reach a goal, it can feel like a huge relief–like reaching the destination of a long road trip. Furthermore, it can feel like a huge accomplishment that we never expected–like we couldn’t believe it happened at all.

One of the great things about pursuing goals, whether it is a DIY project, a financial goal, or a creative work (i.e., a book), is the sense of pride and happiness that comes with reaching it. We know that the path was hard and challenging–even discouraging to the point of us wanting to quit.

Along the way, there were setbacks, mistakes, and times when it looked like we weren’t making any progress or we weren’t going to finish. But eventually, through persistence, focus, and long hours, we got there.

We reward ourselves with a celebration, a day off from work, a vacation, a nice meal at a restaurant, etc. But soon enough, we set our sights on a new goal, and we start the slow, long march toward reaching it.

We acquire a vast amount of knowledge in our lifetime, but only utilize a fraction of it in contrast to the totality that we’ve learned. If the past knowledge isn’t applied regularly, they begin to slip away. Eventually, they become vague notions that we knew we had learned, but can’t recall in detail.

The things we’ve become experts in are things we need and apply in the present. For example, the skillset and knowledge we use at work, the skills we use at home, whether it is cooking, repairing things, using certain tools, etc.

There is also the knowledge we’ve accumulated from the hobbies we’ve had, and the knowledge we have from what we majored in at college. But these, and other many things, will become a blur unless we use them–apply them regularly. This can also include academic knowledge, knowledge about places we used to live in, and knowledge from all the jobs we had in the past.

As we continue to acquire knowledge, the more we will forget. What does all this knowledge mean if we don’t utilize them–if we slowly forget them? Or were they merely stepping stones to where we are now?

It’s better to get an early start hiking in the morning rather than in the afternoon. The main reason is that the weather is cooler, and the air isn’t so humid. In the morning, the trail isn’t as busy either.

When I went hiking yesterday, people hiked in groups of 2, 3 or more. I would see them on the trail every few minutes, and when I reached the overlook, a few people sat on the rocks, peering over the cliff at the river, forest, and town. I sat and rested for a few minutes, sipping on my water bottle, taking a much needed break. I was exhausted, and my legs were sore from the continuous upward trek.

The morning breeze swept by, cooling the rocks, rustling the leaves and the dirt. It felt relaxing, better than A/C, better than a fan running at top speed on a hot summer day. The reward of reaching my destination, coupled with the cool morning weather, made it feel like a much deserved victory.

Later that day, as I was driving back home, the temperature skyrocketed. It felt like 90 to a 100 degrees Fahrenheit by the time I got home. The humidity was dreadful as well. I knew it would’ve been ten times more taxing to hike up the trail if I had waited in the afternoon, instead of starting in the morning.

When we go through phases, we invest our time and energy into something that we think will last for years, but in actuality, only last for a short period of time. Even though we could invest days and weeks in this phase (i.e., a sport, a hobby, etc.), sooner or later, we find out that it wasn’t worth pursuing in the long run.

Even though it was temporary, the phase honed new skills, tapped into new areas of creativity, and opened our eyes to a world that we didn’t know existed. The phase might not even be a hobby or a sport. It could be a specific interest or activity, such as learning a musical instrument, learning about the outdoors, studying an academic field (i.e., history, science, etc.) or reading books by a particular author.

At some point, we lose interest. The enthusiasm has run out. But the knowledge and or skills we acquired has broadened our understanding and awareness of what is out there. Even though a phase lasts for only a season, they’re sprinkled throughout our lives, enriching our experience of the world.

When we lose our patience, we make rash decisions that can leave us shaking our heads in hindsight.

This can happen with projects that we’ve been working on (i.e., rushing to finish it), or when we’re buying something. Of course, we make decisions out of necessity too. Sometimes things cannot wait, and we have to make an immediate decision. But in cases where we have time and there’s no urgency, a rash decision can lead to a regret later on.

I remember making rash decisions when buying something that I later found cheaper somewhere else. Most of the time when this happens, it’s because I’m in a store and I don’t want to spend time searching for it elsewhere (or for it to be shipped if its a product online).

But it could be argued that impatience can be a reward. There was an occasion when I was buying something online, and because it was on sale, I bought it instead of waiting for the price to go down. Albeit, it went down a little bit a day later, the price jumped up dramatically some days after that. Sure, I could’ve saved a little bit of money if I waited a day or so, but if I had waited longer than that, I would’ve had to pay a lot more. And in some cases, an item might be sold out if the opportunity isn’t taken to buy it.

So I think there is something to be said of both patience and impatience. We often praise patience because it’s associated with prudence. Of course, there are many things we shouldn’t be hasty about, especially major purchases or life-changing decisions. But quick decisions can be necessary when patience causes us to miss out on opportunities. And if we just wait and wait and wait, we end up not making any decision at all.

The weather can have a huge impact on our mood and motivation for the day. When I wake up in the morning and the weather is nice, it motivates me to travel, to explore, to exercise. It encourages me to be outside, to enjoy the breeze, and the warm temperature.

But when it’s really hot outside, say, in the 90s (Fahrenheit), it can be draining, exhausting. Although, visually, the sky can look as perfect as a painting, the discomfort and constant perspiration makes me want to retreat to anywhere with A/C.

When it’s rainy or overcast, it’s as if the weather is calling me to stay indoors, to utilize the time to write, to read, and to be productive. Sure, I can go outside if I need to, run a few errands, but it’s not the most ideal condition to do so.

The one exception is when it’s foggy. For some reason, I enjoy being outside in the fog–to see how it obscures light and creates an atmosphere of mystery. I certainly don’t like driving in the fog, and avoid it when I can, but to go outside and walk in the fog, feels like something magical–dreamlike.

When we attain something that is missing from our lives, it feels great for awhile. Sooner or later, however, that feeling of elation begins to fade. We seek something else, something to replace that feeling of incompleteness and dissatisfaction.

This can apply to anything such as something we want to buy, or a goal that we’ve been pursuing. Once we get what we want, there will be something else in the future that we want. Something that drives us to pursue it.

Perhaps there is some good in this. As a writer, I’m never satisfied with just writing one story or one blog post. Likewise, there is no definitive goal where I can say after I write this epic book, I’m calling it quits with writing. On the contrary, writing is a lifelong pursuit, one that takes practice and dedication.

There’s always something to write about: a world to create, an idea to communicate. I could always think of something that I haven’t written about before. There’s no end to the topics and ideas that I could address.

But the negative in this endless pursuit of things/goals is when we pursue beyond our means, beyond what we’re able to attain to the point of exhaustion, weariness–until we’re burnt out. When our pursuit becomes detrimental to us, we know that something is wrong. There must be a limit. And once we’ve reached it, we know that it is time to take a break, to take a step back and look at what we’ve accomplished–what we have.