Flashes of Panic

It’s not uncommon for physiologists (or those posing as physiologists) to explain the body’s ability to absorb water as similar to a sponge. A sponge, of course, doesn’t soak up everything you pour on it; incoming water at a particular rate becomes more than the sponge can absorb, and the excess simply runs off. This doesn’t have anything to do with the sponge’s absolute capacity, but with a limit to the rate. The body is the same way: it doesn’t matter how thirsty and/or dehydrated you are, if you drink fluid at a rate in excess of the rate at which your body can absorb it, the excess will, well, run off.

I wonder if we learn the same way. I know that I feel like I’m in the path of a firehose stream of new material, and even though I know I’m absorbing a lot, I feel like some of it must be running off. But I haven’t figured out if there’s a real limiting factor. Can I simply not absorb information at this rate, or can I train myself to absorb it faster? In other words, will I get better with practice? Would I be soaking it up more efficiently if I had a better preparation? (Despite my determination to shed this idea, it’s not gone yet.)

Either way, I keep making an effort to put myself in the line of more. At some point, it will all make sense, right? Maybe that’s the flaw in the reasoning above: that when you can connect the information, hook it on to things you already know, you retain it more easily. And eventually I’ll be able to hook this all together, instead of climbing a ladder that’s not leaning on anything. (Nothing says I can’t switch metaphors midstream, right?)