The mere act of observing

If quantum mechanics has taught us anything, it’s that observing screws everything up. Sometimes, I’ll be absentmindedly experiencing a positive emotion or experience, and think, this is great! But ah. Damn. Now you’ve observed it. And rather than continuing through the experience with the enthusiasm and enthrallment of a child, you’re now looking through the side of your eyes.

It’s a devilish little thing.

Observing for me can sometimes be about reproducibility. Last week was great—do that again! But now you’re taken out of the present, leaving little chance for any result worthy of comparison.

Did you know that the average score for a PBA level bowler is no more than 230? When I first discovered this, I was bewildered—I’ve bowled a 220 before! I would have imagined the pros bowled 300’s as a rule. I mean, come on, it’s in the physics, right? If you learn how to a bowl a strike, just bowl a strike every time. How hard can it be?

I was at a bowling alley a few years ago, speaking to the worker inside the pro shop. Himself a college level professional, he said that after a certain point in your bowling career—and much sooner than you would expect—the game stops becoming physical, and becomes purely emotional.

Can you imagine the self-sabotage and mental treachery involved of having bowled eleven strikes in a row and now having to hit just one more?