You can't teach a new dog old tricks

Yesterday, I went fishing with a friend on the most beautiful lone Croatian lighthouse called Glavat, or "Big Headed." I do not know a lot about fishing, but I know that at least this skill is somehow embedded in humans. It feels like a lost skill we lost along the way of technological advancement.

As I cast my line out into the tranquil, deep-blue sea, I couldn't help but ponder about this almost forgotten art form. A worm, a hook, a piece of string, and a stick - such simplicity, such elegance. It's a stark contrast from the high-tech world we've all but consumed ourselves in.

The rhythmic waves, the ocean's breath, whispered tales of times when humans were more in tune with the Earth, when we were a part of nature rather than apart from it. There was a time when we knew how to catch a fish, start a fire, find fresh water, navigate by the stars. But along the way, it seems we've slowly relinquished these primal instincts, these core skills, to the promise of convenience, automation, and digitization.

Today, we build magnificent structures that reach towards the heavens, send messages across the globe in the blink of an eye, even explore the far reaches of space. Yet, we've lost the ability to tie a proper fishing knot, to forage for edible plants, to read the weather from the formation of clouds.

Sitting atop that lighthouse, I contemplated how our ancestors must have felt – not a computer or mobile phone in sight, just the raw, untamed world and their knowledge to survive within it. I realized that the comfort of technology has ironically left us uncomfortable in the very world we evolved to inhabit.

As I looked out to the horizon, I saw a school of fish leap and dance across the water surface. It was a beautiful sight, a powerful reminder of the intricate dance of life. But how many of us would recognize it for what it truly was - an opportunity for nourishment, a testament to our ancestors' survival?

The danger lies not in the advancement of technology, but in our complacency, our reluctance to keep our core skills sharp. It's as if we've taken the old adage "you can't teach an old dog new tricks" and flipped it on its head. "You can't teach a new dog old tricks," seems to be our current mindset.

The fishing line tightened, jarring me from my thoughts. A bite! After a short struggle, I pulled a decent-sized fish from the water, its scales gleaming in the evening sun. My hands knew what to do, even if my mind did not. It was a strange, yet comforting feeling - as if I was connected to the people who came before me, the pioneers, the explorers, the survivors.

In that moment, I made a commitment to learn more, to hone these neglected skills. It's not about rejecting technology but about balancing our new-found abilities with the ancient wisdom that has ensured our survival. To be able to both code a software and catch a fish, to analyze data as well as navigate by the stars, to engineer a skyscraper and also build a fire - therein lies true mastery, a harmonious blend of old and new, the perfect fusion of tradition and innovation.

After all, as we navigate through this vast ocean of technology, let us not forget the simple joy of fishing, the thrill of connection with the elements, the primal satisfaction that comes from depending on ourselves and our understanding of the world around us. For it is only when we remember our origins, can we truly appreciate the journey we're on and the destiny we're shaping.