Postrel’s argument about dynamism, evolutionary processes, and dispersed knowledge has direct relevance to technological change. She suggests that technological progress, much like biological evolution, is unpredictable and emerges through decentralized innovation rather than central planning, mirroring Hayek’s insight that no single entity can have enough knowledge to foresee or control all the variables involved in invention and innovation.
For a long time—perhaps all of my life until just a few years ago—I would have said I was completely on team Continuous Forward Progress; I would have said that change is good simply because it implies forward progress. But now I’m really seeing the value of “if this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.” In most situations, I’m now feeling that leaving something just as it is would be great. The article is making a point about people who are against change on principle (although I’d wager most such people haven’t thought of it as a principle) and that’s not me either. I’m perfectly fine with change. But this is nice too.
Podcasting is full of friction—technical issues, editing headaches, guests rescheduling, creative blocks. Some podcasters try to eliminate every obstacle, but sometimes, friction is where the best ideas come from. Where do you think friction helps creativity versus just getting in the way?
~ Asked by the LLM(1)
This question leads me to the idea of “simple.” I often ask myself: What is the simplest thing that could possibly work? Because that’s the idea I should start with. It requires no effort for me to imagine adding complications. Keep it simple stupid (KISS) is an adage because it is a valuable compass.
For me then, friction is a sign that there might be a simpler way to do something. It might be quite complicated and involve a lot of work to switch over to a simpler way of doing things, but it’s only when I’m directly considering the friction that I can understand the payoff of such effort.
On the other hand, there may not be a simpler way to do something. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
In either case, it’s the friction which prompts me to apply mental effort to search for that simpler way. Creating meaningful work (podcasting in this case, but anything really) requires some amount of effort. Friction is a clear sign that—at the least—I’m actually doing the work.
I suppose that does mean that friction helps creativity. Is friction necessary for creativity? No. But it’s definitely not the enemy of creativity.
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(1) I’m working with an LLM instance which has access to everything I’ve written about podcasting, and all the episodes I’ve published. It prompts me by asking me these questions.
For greater happiness, a better way to live employs what behavioral scientists call metacognition. This simply refers to an impartial awareness of your emotions, a capacity to see them as important information but not as a mandate for any particular behavior. Good ways to practice metacognition include Vipassana meditation, journaling, and prayers, which shift the experience of involuntary emotion into the realm of conscious attention.
There are endless methods: Write that angry screed, but don’t send it (put the paper-letter in a drawer, or save the email as a draft.) Count to 10 before saying or doing anything when you are angry. Name your feelings, internally or out loud (“I’m a feeling angry.”) Viktor Frankl’s comments on the space between stimulus and response. I don’t have a specific takeaway, other than that I’m simply reminding myself of all these options which I’d like to continue to practice using more often.
These are serious fears. But they’re not the real fear. Not the Master Fear, the Mother of all Fears that’s so close to us that even when we verbalize it we don’t believe it. Fear That We Will Succeed. That we can access the powers we secretly know we possess. That we can become the person we sense in our hearts we truly are.
I believe we are meaning-seeking creatures, and these feelings of meaning, relational and connective, are almost always located within kindness. Kindness is the force that draws us together, and this, Beau, is what I think I am trying to say – that despite our collective state of loss, and our potential for evil, there exists a great network of goodness, knitted together by countless everyday human kindnesses.
In your post Having a Clear Why, you highlight the importance of having a reason for podcasting that goes beyond just releasing episodes. Looking back, has your core motivation for podcasting changed over time? Were there moments when your ‘why’ felt unclear, and how did you navigate that?
~ Asked by the LLM(1)
It turns out that my core motivation has never wavered. What has changed drastically over the years is why I thought I was doing it.
My “Why” is that I’m curious. I have always been entirely motivated by simple, selfish reasons: I love conversations— in fact I love listening to people. The people and conversations energize me. Podcasting scratches my curiosity itch. (The cure for boredom is curiosity. There’s no cure for curiosity.)
It turns out that when I’m intentional about how I podcast—who I choose to give a platform to, what I steer us towards discussing, how I craft episode notes, titles, and all the countless details—I end up creating pieces of work that other people really enjoy and learn from. Godin’s phrasing, “make the world better by making better things,” nails it.
What’s changed over the years is that I was confused about my “Why”—not that my “Why” actually changed. At various times in the past I used to think, “people like what I’m creating, maybe I can generate some revenue.” But I’m not in podcasting to generate revenue, and if I wanted to do that I’d need to shift from “what do I want” to being clear about what problem I’m trying to solve for others.
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(1) I’m working with an LLM instance which has access to everything I’ve written about podcasting, and all the episodes I’ve published. It prompts me by asking me these questions.
Much of insomnia and trouble sleeping is ultimately caused by worrying. When you worry, you get anxious, and when you’re anxious, your body gets ready for action, which directly inhibits relaxation and sleepiness. And to make matters worse, routinely worrying in bed – either as you’re trying to fall asleep initially or when you’re awake in the middle of the night – eventually teaches your brain to associate your bed with worry (this is the same classical conditioning process Ivan Pavlov discovered in his experiments with dogs who learned to drool at the sound of a bell previously paired with food). This means that, even if you weren’t worried before night-time, simply being in bed can become a trigger for worries and anxiety!
I do recall that I had that problem at one point. The way I solved it was to create other opportunities—for me, it was journaling—to empty that stuff out of mind. These days it’s a three-pronged approach: I’m a wizard at organization so I trust myself and my systems. I regularly reflect on what’s in my control and remind myself of the correct perspective about life in general. I regularly dump out my mind’s various, and endless ideas and possibilities into notebooks. I’ve no idea what would work for you… but you really do need to try a bunch of things to figure out what does work for you.
What makes a great movement coach, and how do they balance structure, intuition, and individual learning styles to help students progress?
Teaching movement is as much about reading people as it is about teaching physical skills.
You have to wait— you just have to wait and see. It’s not always the right time to give feedback.
~ Cristina Latici (15:22)
The conversation explores the nuances of movement coaching, particularly in the context of parkour and dance. The discussion highlights the importance of understanding each student’s background and learning style, emphasizing observation over immediate correction. Cristina describes her approach, which involves assessing a student’s experience, allowing them space to explore, and offering small, precise adjustments when necessary. She reflects on the parallels between her parkour coaching and her past as a dancer, noting how both disciplines require a deep awareness of movement and the ability to convey complex physical concepts to others.
[Yoda and Luke] are having a conversation and Luke’s bitching, as usual. And Yoda says something to the effect of, “we are what they grow beyond.” And the point that’s being made is, if you’re a coach and you don’t make students who are better than you, you’re not a good coach.
~ Craig Constantine (22:04)
Another key theme is the role of community in movement practice. Cristina discusses how the group dynamic influences training, particularly when working with long-term students versus new participants. She also highlights the challenges of coaching adults versus children, explaining how her background in special education informs her patience and adaptability in coaching. The conversation touches on the idea of “touch” as an intuitive sense developed through movement practice, illustrating how familiarity with movement can enhance both safety and creativity.
Takeaways
Reading the student — A good coach observes and learns about each student’s background before offering guidance.
Holding back feedback — Immediate corrections aren’t always beneficial; sometimes students need space to explore movement on their own.
The role of community — A strong training group can create a supportive and engaging environment that extends beyond just learning new skills.
Differences in coaching adults vs. children — Adult students can be given more freedom, while children require more structured guidance.
Intuition in movement — Over time, practitioners develop an unconscious sense of movement that helps them adapt in unexpected situations.
Bringing past experience into coaching — Skills from other disciplines, like dance, can influence and enhance movement coaching.
Frameworks for structuring sessions — Having a strong guiding structure helps coaches tailor sessions to different groups and needs.
Personal growth through coaching — Teaching movement involves constant learning and adaptation, even for experienced coaches.
Adapting to different skill levels — Coaches must balance providing challenges with ensuring students feel comfortable and capable.
Flow and connection between movements — The ability to link movements seamlessly is a key part of high-level physical practice.
Resources
The Movement Creative — The parkour organization where Cristina coaches, offering outdoor movement training in New York City.
Gerlev Parkour Gathering — A well-known parkour event at Gerlev Idrætshøjskole Cristina mentions as a valuable training community.
Yamakasi — The original founders of parkour, mentioned in relation to training approaches.
When I heard Hayes describe how his phone buzzes in his pocket whenever there is breaking news, I was actually shocked. Do people really allow their devices to interrupt them on a random reinforcement schedule? I mean, no wonder the internet makes people go crazy. I’m not a big believer in BF Skinner, but I think it’s well established that any stimulus that occurs at random intervals is impossible to get used to, and shocks you anew every time it recurs.
Rather than letting myself get pocket-buzzed by the news, I have an RSS reader. You should use an RSS reader, seriously:
Doctorow is pretty polarizing in general. And on this topic, I agree with him entirely. And his point about RSS readers is ONLY even about alerts for news. Forget that RSS point… TURN NOTIFICATIONS OFF ENTIRELY.
I challenge you to put your phone in a drawer, buried in clothing—just banish it for 24 hours.
You won’t believe how ridiculously needy your phone is when you get it out of that drawer a day later. And then you’ll start turning off notifications one by one on your way to improving your entire life. And then you’ll want to go learn more about calm technology.
You didn’t plan for a hiatus—it just kind of happened. Stepping away from the routine of podcasting, has it changed the way you see the relentless pace of content creation? Do you feel more or less pressure to keep up with a schedule now? Has this break made you rethink what “consistency” really means for a podcaster?
~ Asked by the LLM(1)
Yes, it definitely changed how I look at everything about podcasting. I’ll unpack the reason for the hiatus, so that my take-aways make more sense.
First, in April 2024 we had an unexpected death in the family. Given the scale of things, it was a no-brainer to cancel the several guests who were scheduled for recording sessions. Unfortunately, I over-worked myself for a stretch of days, and that led to my being exhausted and getting sick. In those first days, as I sent “I’m really sorry, but…” messages to the guests, I was thinking about this in a very particular way: This is the right thing to do for these people who kindly set aside time for me.
The first take away from this experience is to be honest and realistic with myself. An unexpected death changed my daily priorities. I’m sick and my voice is crap. I need many weeks to recover, assess, and figure out what I can do in the coming months. In the past, I might have tried to work harder to try to keep juggling everything.
Then in May, a routine blood test returned results which one would prefer to never see. Through June and July, and then into August and September, I worked through a cancer diagnosis. This further “adjusted” my priorities and schedule for the rest of 2024.
The second take away is just having a conversation with anyone is a crazy-awesome gift. And (as I’m getting back to podcasting now, in Feb 2025) to be able to record and share them is just icing on the cake.
As for the grind, consistency, a schedule? No, not any of that. I hope I can hold on to this mindset:
I’m insanely lucky to get to do just one more episode, and it looks like I can do them for years to come. Grinding, being consistent, and sticking to a schedule are all forms of striving for something. (I am a professional even without any of those.) So, nope. No, thank you. I’m not signing up for that mindset again.
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(1) I’m working with an LLM instance which has access to everything I’ve written about podcasting, and all the episodes I’ve published. It prompts me by asking me these questions.
The creative mind gets poisoned with the idea that your great work will be the result of getting serious. So many of my good ideas come from what looks like goofing off, wasting time. Art is play. There’s no way to tell what’s deep or shallow until you play with the idea.
This morning I was jotting some thoughts about resistance. I’ve learned (and others have reached these same conclusions) that it’s difficult to try to force myself; That requires a lot of mental energy which I often run short of. What works is when I have a clearly delineated space for the task at hand. I sit here to do the writing. I go to this space to do my painting. I use this notebook and this particular pen to work on my book.
The insight I had, this morning while jotting, was why having a particular set of surroundings, tools, or materials actually works. Resistance exists when I’ve forgotten my reason. Whatever our work is, we originally had some motivation to set out on the undertaking. When we feel resistance it’s because those reasons and motivations are not active in our minds right in that moment.
When we go to that space, or pick up those special materials, we are reminded of our reasons and motivations. Reminded is an interesting word: We often use it flippantly, “remind me to…” But it powerfully shatters resistance by bringing something again (thus the prefix “re”) into our mind: When I sit here in this space, it re‑minds me of my reasons and motivations.
The challenge is to realize that the error I’m making is in thinking the writing part sucks. Of course it’s not easy— that’s what makes it fun. (Is the lesson I need to continue to work to internalize.)
Each night as you lay down to sleep, you embark on an extraordinary journey – not through space, but through the shifting terrain of your own consciousness. This transition, known as the sleep-onset period, is not a simple flick of a switch from wakefulness to slumber, but a gradual, nuanced shift that suspends you between two worlds. Long regarded as a mere prelude to sleep, recent studies suggest there is far more to this fascinating twilight period.