This morning, 100 feet up a ridge, I sit on a love seat-sized rock. The river bends below. Dawn has not arrived as I write. Robins and finches sing in the western pines.
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Why does it take me so long to know or be aware of some things?
Not profound things, but - what is a predicate, what colors do you mix to make purple, and that tofu is a cube of beans.
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And if such small close things could elude me, how easy is it to miss something I know well?

When I'm doing work that's close to my area of expertise and, I stop asking questions, I become suspicious of my work. Mastery of something is more like being in a relationship than reading a book. There is no end, and as time goes on, you and the person you are getting to know change. Mastery then requires both; trust in what you know and grace to act like a beginner. Because the subject you know will change.

For creatives and leaders who daily have their eyes on screens more than shut for sleep, we can start to forget that even in our place of expertise, we must remain curious - as our subject matter is not a set of facts that I can learn but a subject to be in conversation with.