Contemplating a note before refactoring could be compared to contemplating the work of art

Contemplating a Note Before Refactoring Could Be Compared to Contemplating a Work of Art

• I’ve never considered that my notes are, in fact, a form of art—intellectual art, the art in which I am consciously engaged. The only activity a mature individual consistently undertakes throughout the day often turns out to be the least noticeable.
  • He thinks, and let’s establish this for the record: thinking is a form of art. I even read the book with a similar title, where the authors contended that system thinking is an art¹.
  • Never before had I likened note-taking to art, and never before had I realized that when I read my notes, I am actually contemplating a form of artistry.
  • And the act of contemplating a note is akin to visiting a museum—with one significant difference.
• In a museum, you’re forbidden from touching anything, whereas with your notes, you transition from a passive observer into a co-creator, yet again.
  • You can perceive that the person who originally authored the note (even if it’s you) is not the same as the person who is now reading it. Time has elapsed, and you are now a transformed version of yourself, revisiting the note from a distinct perspective.
  • The experiences and events that transpired between the acts of writing and reading significantly influence how you perceive and engage with your own intellectual art, recorded “on paper.”
• This process is what we refer to, for the sake of clarity, as the refactoring of notes.
  • And like any intricate process—reading included—it cannot occur without the proper mindset. You shouldn’t begin until you have clarity about the course you’ll pursue and the reasoning behind it.
  • It’s akin to navigating a boat without sails or a compass in the vastness of the ocean—a perilous strategy, the shortest route to disaster.
  • First, read. Chart your course. Prepare your map.
• The books we’ve read, the podcasts we’ve absorbed, and the videos we’ve watched in the interim between writing a note and revisiting it serve as markers. They assist in charting our course—or, even better, they provide tools for reconstructing the art.
  • Restore or renovate. A prime example that comes to mind is the idea of categories of notes, which I recently reworked with newfound understanding.
  • The selection of which note to refactor is not random. It emerges in our field of attention not because we are aimlessly wandering through other notes, even if we pluck it seemingly at random.
  • q Accidents are not accidents, as Master Oogway aptly says.
• Our attention is typically drawn toward something meaningful at the moment—an object of our current focus or curiosity.
  • And it’s there because of our desire to make sense of something, to sort it out—either within ourselves or with the world.
  • In some cases (and some would argue in the majority of them), the need to refactor or update arises because of our inherent fear of mortality. Logical reasoning often circles back to this conclusion, but for now, let’s avoid venturing into that territory.
• This time, let’s assume the note we wish to refactor has surfaced not because of a fear of death, but because we seek to examine or refine our personal belief system—a profound and commendable endeavor.
  • The note-taker is on a chivalrous quest to improve someone else’s life. Enhancing their own life is equally honorable, or they may be striving to become a better person, live more meaningfully, or—on occasion—contribute to a better world.
• The note we now contemplate is present, as I mentioned earlier, not by coincidence. Indeed, I would argue that it is not the note-taker who selects the note, but rather the note that chooses the note-taker.
  • Ideas have a tendency to lie dormant, patiently awaiting the perfect moment to seize our attention. They choose us.
  • Just a few days ago, when I was explaining the concept of self-I as a didactic approach to teaching, I stumbled upon a line in a note containing a seemingly simple phrase: hierarchy of goals.
  • These three words ignited a chain of rapid, almost involuntary, thoughts. In an instant, I realized I had missed something—something I had previously read and documented.
  • I spent the next two minutes reflecting and searching for a note that elaborated on this hierarchy, and I successfully unearthed it. Several days have passed, and the concept still occupies my thoughts.
• The note chose me, compelling me to reflect upon it and leading me to refactor other notes. This brings us to a step-by-step explanation of how to conduct the refactoring of a note.
  • The process is straightforward but demands a certain level of skill.

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ID: 202411180511 Source:: Friend:: Child:: Next:: The stages of effective art (note) contemplating

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Footnotes

1. 1. O’Connor J. The Art of Systems Thinking: Essential Skills for Creativity and Problem Solving / J. O’Connor, London: Thorsons, 1997. 288 c.
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