Wait, that’s absolutely backwards

“Do you have any ideas in mind?”

I was talking with someone recently, and they asked me what ideas I had in mind. I described a visual that had recently come to mind for me, and I then, as a followup to that visual, I added a few ideas as single words.

(I’m very intentionally, not being specific here…)

When I finished—it all took but a few moments—it struck me…

Dude, those single words really are the ideas I want to convey…

But that imagery? It’s exactly the opposite of those ideas. That visual is a terrible idea…

Let’s set aside the confusion I may have caused to my friend. (Although, I did point out that I saw the contradiction.)

It seems to me it’s really rare to have a moment of such clarity around something important: If I hadn’t been explaining it to another person, I might have hung onto that visual imagery.

Where are you hanging on to the wrong details?

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Redemption

Because it’s elitist, an initiation into arcana. Because it’s nostalgic, rowing being a skill not much in demand in the industrial world. Because it’s fragile: The boat club is run on a shoestring, and the beat-up old boats held together by spit. Because it’s dangerous, and exercises the wits against the wind and the water. Because it’s a ritual. Because it’s redemption.

~ Barry Strauss

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Where’s the scene?

Where is the space where you hang out with other people doing whatever it is you do? I’ve mentioned this idea before, for example, Setting and scene. This is something I come back to often because it is really important to me.

And by “space” I mean a physical space, like the proverbial 19th century cafĂ© with writers talking and drinking coffee. Third places are clear candidates for our scene.

What about virtual third places? All of us know each other virtually, including through various video calls over the years. But a virtual space has to be very special to be a true “scene.” In fact, I’m not sure just how special, and I’m not sure what exactly the features it needs to have…

That’s what I’m thinking about this morning:

What are the special feature of a virtual space that make it into a scene?

Here’s a few I’ve come up with so far…

  • People :) obviously. We need to know others are there (I see “likes” or a head-count in the video call).
  • Engagement. We (me, you, the person seeking the scene) need to soak up energy from other people. Yes, even introverts need at least a little bit of interaction, particular in the realm of one’s creative endeavor.
  • Questions. Questions don’t have to be about getting an answer! “Revealing your questions in such a way points to the shape of the knowledge you are seeking.”
  • Mistakes. …not sure about this one. “Mistakes” isn’t quite the right word. I’m trying to point at the idea that seeing other people attempt things, and not succeed, shows that the scene is a space safe for experimentation and challenging ourselves.

What else comes to mind?

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I don’t often laugh out loud

But when I do, it usually because of some deeply nerdy, cutting snark. Like this:

As someone who has read thousands of academic papers, I’ll answer those questions as calmly as possible.

NO.

~ “dynomight“, from Please show lots of digits

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…and then it goes on, CAPSLOCKed, for several paragraphs. The only thing better than math-nerds, is when a math-nerd who is also a reason-nerd stomps on the vanilla-variety math-nerds. This stuff? This stuff makes the world a better place.

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Still shady here though

Clearly the sun is up in the east already. But from here, we’re always in the shadow of this very old, very low “mountain” for at least another hour.

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Well, if you’re going to put a fine point on it

Songs arise out of suffering, by which I mean they are predicated upon the complex, internal human struggle of creation and, well, as far as I know, algorithms don’t feel. Data doesn’t suffer. ChatGPT has no inner being, it has been nowhere, it has endured nothing, it has not had the audacity to reach beyond its limitations, and hence it doesn’t have the capacity for a shared transcendent experience, as it has no limitations from which to transcend.

~ Nick Cave, from Issue 218

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Sometimes I read things which are so clear, and right, that I nearly weep on my keyboard. (Yes, oldster, keyboard.) And then… I realize, enduring, suffering, audacity to reach beyond limitations— hey, that’s me! And then, still weeping, but I’m doing it right!

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tl;dr: It’s the lack of housing

So let’s go on a journey in which I will examine the validity of six common claims we hear about homelessness and the solution to our homelessness crisis: housing, housing, and more housing.

~ Noah Smith, from Everything you think you know about homelessness is wrong

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“But wait,” I hear you protest, “it’s more nuanced than that!”

Yes, yes, okay, fine. Again, this time with more nuance:

It’s the lack of affordable housing.

And how might we solve that root cause?

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Strategy questions

Seth Godin posted a selection of strategy questions a few weeks back, to coincide with his latest book’s release. I’ve found myself referring to these questions a few times, and wanted to post about it here to be sure everyone had a chance to notice them…

Where will I cause tension? What resistance should I anticipate from others (and myself)?

~ Seth Godin, from Strategy Questions

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…just to pick one to quote, to give you a taste.

I’ve been using this list as a primer when I want to think about some project. I’ve found it works in my own head, as well as with other people.

As always, his asking really good questions is a gift; A tremendously empowering gift.

Is there a question in that list which scares you?

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Excellence

What I understand today is that when the Stoics said that there was an opportunity in every obstacle, what they meant was the opportunity to practice virtue. To be a good person despite the bad things that have happened. To do good in the world despite the bad that has befallen you. They were speaking of the idea of arete. Excellence—in all forms.

~ Ryan Holiday

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What lies ahead?

For a while, the Movers Mindset podcast’s episodes had opening segments recorded in post-production. They were as you’d expect: Here’s who’s on the show, this is who they are, here are a few things we talk about. This (as you surely know) is a bit of work. In later years—particularly once I was working entirely alone—I simply stopped doing this because, taking the time to do it, stopped me from actually getting the episodes out the door.

LISTENERS CAN’T “SEE” (OR HEAR) WHAT’S AHEAD. When you read a story in a newspaper, your peripheral vision gives you an idea of the stories that surround it. […] On the radio, someone needs to tell you explicitly what’s coming up.

~ Jonathan Kern, from Sound Reporting, p6

NPR has a concept called “billboards” which are short segments, up-front (“58 seconds long, at the top of the hour”) telling you what’s coming.

How do you (if you do) decide what you put on your “billboard” at the front of the show? Do you have goals; list three things, list something for every major turn in the conversation, etc.? Do you use any tools to help you?

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Don’t look at that part

We all struggle with this. No matter what our art is, there are always those bits that everyone sees and those bits that are covered up. And we face the question of how much effort to put into these various parts. It’s easy enough if it’s a hobby and you have all the time in the world. But you need to ship if you’re making a living off your art.

~ David Sparks, from Lessons From an Ancient Craftsman

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It’s always good when, as above, I can get any sense of commiseration with other creatives. I had a hard time ever coming to understand I am a creative, and the imposter syndrome for me is eternal. (Also, apparently a shared experience.) Great piece from Sparks about exactly what that quote suggests.

Meanwhile, I’m reminded of something I say often, which comes from my paternal grandfather: When asked his opinion on something, (ala, “How’s that look?”) he’d reply, “A blind man in Idaho would be happy to see it.” This makes no sense, in several dimensions. I have no idea where he got that from. The Idaho bit in particular always made me wonder. He and I were generally in Pennsylvania, so Idaho is a long way away, but oddly specific, while still oddly vague. Where in Idaho? And why Idaho? Maybe Idaho was some Depression-era fake-magical place pushed by con-men and became a stand in for “anyone in Idaho must be really well off.” Because the whole point of the joke is that a blind person would be delighted to see anything. I dunno… maybe it’s a humorous construct because the Idaho part is so extraneous, it feels like it must be important? Really, does that reply mean it looks good, or it’s bad and I don’t want to tell you? I mean, the reply literally does nothing but dodge the question. Or, maybe I’ve just over thought this… for 40 years?

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The longest stretch of deserted road?

What’s the longest stretch you’ve gone, away from your love of podcast creation?

For obvious reasons (in case you missed it) I’ve not been doing much in the way of podcasting this year. The last episode I published was March 28th, 2024— so about 8 months now. I’m at a point now, where I’ve enough health that it would be possible to resume . . .

I miss having the conversations, and I even miss doing the uncelebrated work (which we all know so well!) to get them published. But I don’t miss the grind… that treadmill feeling of always having some next thing that could be done.

What’s stopped you in the past? How did you get back on the bicycle? Why did you get back on the bicycle?

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