My father was a fairly well-known concert pianist in his day, who also taught students continually. Each week, he would be enthralled with a new practice technique or hand exercise he had arrived at. Last week's technique was abandoned, not mentioned again. My mother would mock this, implying that he must not know what he was doing, since he changed his mind so often about what works.

He explained to me that the exercises were not being abandoned at all. They were being refined gradually over time. He had one goal, which was improving the uptake and resilience of brain and muscle memory for music. Every refinement was an opportunity he'd spotted, deep in his own mental language, to hone in on that goal.

The way my coding style (both deep and superficial) changes continuously over time always reminds me of the way my father taught piano. My goal, roughly, is to find the perfect balance of clarity and brevity, while maximizing the ease of continued development. My 27 years of practice has resulted in a long chain of insights about how to achieve that. It's always changing. The way I wrote code 8 months ago wasn't wrong, but I found a set of principles that's better. It wasn't bad, but I would not write in that style today. Why would I? I've learned things in those 8 months.