The Joy of Frustration

    Last Christmas, my wife gave me the 7th Edition of the National Geographic Field Guide to the Birds of North America.  From all that I had heard, it was THE best field guide published recently. And when I looked at it I had to agree. The pictures, the range maps and the descriptions of the various birds were all FABULOUS!  It even had thumb-cuts to move quickly between different families of birds. It had, not surprisingly, one deficiency:  it didn’t have my notes of where I saw particular birds for the first time.  All of THAT information was in my 4th Edition!
    The 4th Edition had been my go-to field guide pretty much since I started birding in the late -1980’s. So, as much as I wanted to take the 7th Edition into the field with me, I couldn’t quite let go of the 4th . . . because of the historical data it contained.  Only one solution:  transfer the information from 4th to 7th!
    Do you know how long it takes to go, page-by-page, through two field guides to re-record almost 450 initial sightings of various bird species?  A LONG time!  I finally finished the day before yesterday (June 4).
    But . . . that undertaking took me down “memory lane”. I was surprised by how many of the sightings happened on my birthday, or wedding anniversary. I could remember little details about almost every sighting — weather, other observers, funny stories, etc. How many states were represented as the “first time” I saw a bird? More than I recalled! But I also thought, through the process of transferral from one book to another, that, “Golly, I’m a pretty accomplished birder!”        
    Hah!
    This week I returned to the East Coast for a training in Connecticut. It was a different part of the U.S. than I’d birded before (although there was some similarity with my time in North Carolina). So I thought I’d be able to add to my life-list. I did my research. I knew what birds I might hope to find. And, when the first opportunity afforded itself, I grabbed my binocs and bird book (the 7th Ed!), and went out.
    Absolute frustration! I’d forgotten bird calls. I’d forgotten field marks. I kept hearing Rocky Mountain (or West Coast) birds — which, of course, weren't there. I’d forgotten a lot . . . and IT . . . WAS . . . FRUSTRATING! The experience drove me back to the book. I needed to refresh myself with all of the details (and, of course, with the internet, I could check on bird-song). And, the next day, when I went out again, my time out was much more satisfying, even joyful.
    The whole experience reminded me that there is (or can be) a certain benefit of being frustrated in a “task”. When I’m fishing, or cycling, or birding, or . . . praying, I can either take frustration as a sign that I should set the activity aside, OR I can enter into it more fully. I can do more research; I can focus my attention differently. I cannot let the frustration be the last word. To do so would deprive me of the joy that might lie on the other side.
    The cliché is “No pain, no gain”. I’m not exactly pain-averse, but I might say “Work through the frustration; find the joy!”

Namasté

Gary