With the power of hindsight I can see there was an age of fire. There was a long period—too long, probably—of trying to carve a path through the world. A period of trying to make a dent in the universe. Making my mark. I think it’s telling that all those metaphors involve destruction and defacement. Eventually I see a transition to the age of water. The metaphors are nicer there; flowing, accommodating, and shaping to fit the container.
What do I mean by explorers? I am talking about people who have found and are pursuing a very specific form of passion – I call it the “passion of the explorer.” These people are excited about opportunities to have more and more impact in domains that matter to them. They are constantly seeking new challenges that can help them to learn faster by creating new knowledge that never existed before. They also are actively seeking help from others in addressing these new challenges – they freely acknowledge that they don’t know the answers and that they need help in finding the answers.
Transitions are the difficult times. The wind blows from wildly varying directions. The currents shift. The lighting changes. Grand vistas come into view. More, and different, metaphors.
I can feel my raw power subsiding. Literally. Some days, a 20-minute nap, an hour or so after a nice lunch, is just the most sublime thing. (Not the nap of exhaustion. Not the nap of collapse.) After running the engine with the tachometer near the red-area, it feels nice to settle into the solid, long-haul part of the power curve. More metaphors: A journey. A quest. A culmination. A destination. An end.
What drives individuals to create and engage with projects like podcasting, and how do they navigate the challenges and tensions inherent in the creative process to successfully execute their vision?
Kira Higgs joins Craig to discuss her podcast, “The Void Project,” where her exploration of creativity, learning, and growth unfolds through her self-imposed challenge of producing a limited, 10-episode series.
[…] that’s how the name for me personally, came to be, “The Void Project.” Oh, I’m avoiding this dark void. I’m avoiding this place, I’m afraid of being in. But then I find out, oh my God there’s nothing to be afraid of here. It’s fine. […] It looks like a void but it isn’t.
~ Kira Higgs, 13:54
Kira Higgs and Craig Constantine explore facets of podcasting and personal growth. Kira, discussing “The Void Project,” her 10-episode podcast series, reveals her journey into the world of podcasting. She emphasizes how this venture is a means for her to explore and express her creativity. The project is not just about producing content but is deeply intertwined with her learning process in handling technical aspects like recording and editing. This learning curve is a significant theme, as Kira candidly shares her experiences and challenges in acquiring these new skills.
A central topic that Kira touches upon is the concept of innate desire and creativity. She articulates her belief that human beings are naturally inclined to create and that this impulse should be embraced and nurtured. Her perspective is that true creative endeavors stem from a genuine, innate desire rather than external motivations like societal pressures or competition. This insight forms the basis of her approach to podcasting and creative work in general.
The conversation also touches on the metaphorical significance of the name ‘The Void Project.’ Kira explains that the name symbolizes her confrontation with and exploration of her fears and uncertainties. She describes the project as a journey of facing the ‘void’ – the unknown or feared aspects of her creative and personal life. This exploration leads to surprising revelations and personal growth, as she finds that what initially appeared daunting is, in fact, manageable and not as intimidating as perceived. The podcast becomes a platform for Kira to express these realizations and share her thought process during the pandemic, offering a unique blend of personal narrative and creative expression.
Takeaways
Significance of learning and growth — highlights the process of acquiring new skills in podcasting, such as recording and editing, and the challenges faced along the way.
Facing fears and uncertainties — discusses the metaphorical meaning behind ‘The Void Project,’ representing the confrontation with and exploration of personal fears and uncertainties.
Discovery and personal insights — the project serves as a medium for self-discovery, revealing unexpected insights and leading to personal growth.
Impact of external motivations — touches on the influence of societal pressures and competition, and how these factors differ from true, innate creative desires.
The process of creative expression — underscores the importance of expressing one’s unique voice and experiences through creative projects like podcasting.
Resources
Robert Fritz — mentioned as a friend and mentor to Kira, author of the book, The Path of Least Resistance for Artists (The Structure and Spirit of the Creative Process), focusing on the dynamics of creativity and creation.
What is necessary for something to continue existing? Is autonomy necessary? Is physical integrity (as opposed to “physical dispersion”) necessary? Does dignity require privacy, which requires autonomy and physical integrity?
Privacy is the key that unlocks the aspects of yourself that are most intimate and personal, that make you most you, and most vulnerable. Your naked body. Your sexual history and fantasies. Your past, present and possible future diseases. Your fears, your losses, your failures. The worst thing you have ever done, said, and thought. Your inadequacies, your mistakes, your traumas. The moment in which you have felt most ashamed. That family relation you wish you didn’t have. Your most drunken night.
When one violates another’s privacy, is that only attacking their dignity? Is that also diminishing their autonomy? Is that also attacking their physical integrity?
What themes or insights emerge from the discussion about the intersection of movement, art, and personal exploration?
John Baker discusses his approach to blending traditional and digital media in art, emphasizing exploration and his love for movement, while exploring the possibility of combining these passions into a sustainable career.
[3 words to describe your practice?] The first one that comes to mind, which is pretty cliche, is: playful. It’s important to be playful and exploring, and not be so serious. Next one is softness. I guess it comes out of being injured in the past— but trying to be softer with movements and softer, gets more gentle in general. Then the third is— I haven’t decided— but collaborative or curious. Usually, with movements, or movement spheres, I like to inquire what other people are exploring.
~ John Baker 30:10
John Baker digs into the intersection of art and movement, exploring how his passion for both disciplines enriches his creative expression. He speaks about his journey in blending traditional and digital media, emphasizing the unique qualities and opportunities each medium offers. John’s approach to art is deeply rooted in exploration and creativity, reflecting his belief in storytelling through both visual and physical mediums. He shares insights on how he navigates the challenges of societal expectations and self-imposed limits while contemplating the integration of his artistic and movement practices into a sustainable career.
John also touches upon his training habits and the significant influence of music on his movement. He describes how different musical genres and rhythms inspire and shape his physical expressions, revealing a deep connection between auditory stimuli and bodily movement. This interplay highlights his holistic approach to creativity, where various elements of life seamlessly blend to inform and inspire his art and movement.
Takeaways
Exploration and creativity — The importance of these elements in both art and movement practices.
Blending media — The use of both traditional and digital media in art.
Career integration — Exploring the idea of combining a love for art and movement into a sustainable career, navigating societal expectations and personal limitations.
Influence of music — How different music genres can inspire movement, showing a connection between auditory stimuli and physical expression.
Late in 2023 I started working on paper to create simple mind–maps around the individual ideas that go into my writing here. Call it nostalgia if you wish, but there’s something delightful about a nice pen and nice paper. I find I have a flurry of bat-like ideas around the central idea. Not all of them make it to the paper; Some are left to flutter right back out of the belfry.
After a while, the remaining bats settle down to roost as my scribbling sputters to a halt. Then there’s a bit of time where I pause (exactly how much varies greatly, sometimes I even surrender, get up and move away from the tablet) before I feel I can shift to the digital realm to begin the writing. That period of pause though is a straight-up struggle. Every time.
“Divergence” refers to opening up your senses and taking in new sources of information from the outside world, such as at the start of a new project. “Convergence” refers to shutting off sources of distraction and narrowing your focus to arrive at an end result.
Together, these two stages form the backbone of creative work going back millennia. In any field, we move like a pendulum back and forth between these two states of mind. Once you learn to see the pattern in your own work, you’ll understand how to flow with the tide of information rather than swim against it.
It’s not clear to me that— Actually, no, I’m sure that I cannot intentionally switch from the divergent part of the work to the convergent. I just try to stay in the pause. Eventually, assuming I don’t give up and walk away, the writing feels easier than continuing to think about it. I often wonder why I keep writing on a schedule. It’s torturous. But now I’m thinking that I may have stumbled backwards into a way to push myself more quickly through to the convergent part of writing: If it has a due-date, then there’s a built-in increasing urgency to shut up, sit down… and wait, until the writing is the easiest path.
What perspectives and approaches can podcast creators adopt from fields like anthropology, filmmaking, and sound design to improve their craft?
Julie Angel describes herself as multi-passionate. She’s a filmmaker, author, podcaster, movement coach and breath-work expert. Julie joins Craig to share her insights on creativity and the transformative power of movement and breathing.
[…] you got to get out of your own way. And for me the sign of a really great conversation, or recording, is at the end of it I’m like— I always ask myself: Was that really good, or like, ‘meh’. And if it was really good, then it’s just like, ‘it was really good!’ Then if someone says, ‘what did you talk about?’ I’m not sure. I don’t know. I was just in it. […] My kind of deconstruction is how did I feel at the end of it. And that’s it.
~ Julie Angel (20:40)
Julie Angel, a filmmaker and parkour coach, describes the intricacies of her creative process and the challenges she faces in her work. She emphasizes the importance of feedback in creative pursuits, advocating for seeking critical perspectives from those who know and love her. This approach, she argues, is vital for maintaining objectivity and ensuring continuous growth in her craft.
Through the conversation, Julie reflects on the nature of creativity, highlighting the paradox of freedom in artistic expression. She recounts experiences where limitless options in filmmaking, contrary to expectations, proved to be daunting rather than liberating. This leads to a broader discussion about the necessity of constraints in fostering creativity, where she points out that limitations often spur innovation and novel approaches to storytelling and artistic expression.
Julie also explores the concept of flow state, particularly in the context of engaging dialogues and creative work. She describes this state as a measure of the quality of her interactions and creative output, where being deeply immersed in the process is a key indicator of success. Her insights extend to the realm of parkour coaching, where she draws parallels between physical movement and mental creativity. Julie underscores the transformative power of parkour, not just as a physical discipline, but as a medium for personal growth and self-expression.
She shares anecdotes and lessons from her coaching experiences, illustrating how parkour transcends physical boundaries and becomes a metaphor for overcoming life’s obstacles. This intertwining of physical and creative agility forms a central theme of the conversation, shedding light on Julie’s multifaceted perspective on life and art.
Takeaways
Creative Feedback — The importance of seeking critical feedback from trusted individuals to maintain objectivity and foster growth.
Limitations in Creativity — How constraints can paradoxically enhance creativity, that having too many options can be overwhelming and less productive for a creative mind.
Flow State in Conversations — Flow state as a key indicator of a successful conversation or recording, where being deeply immersed signifies quality and fulfillment.
Parkour as a Metaphor — How the discipline serves not just as a physical activity but as a metaphor for overcoming life’s challenges, emphasizing personal growth and resilience.
Artistic Freedom versus Structure — The challenges of having complete creative freedom, illustrating how structured limitations can actually spur more innovative and meaningful artistic work.
Interplay of Physical and Mental Agility — The connection between physical movement in parkour and mental creativity, underscoring the parallel skills required in both realms.
Transformative Power of Movement — How movement, specifically through parkour, can be transformative, offering insights into its impact on personal development and self-expression.
Resources
JulieAngel.com — Julie’s website with various free resources, including a movement snacks guide and a crawling quadrupedal movement guide, along with her films, podcasts, and coaching information.
The Curious Midlife — Julie Angel’s podcast available as audio wherever you listen, and on YouTube with video.
Movement of 3 — Julie’s film made with three of her friends: “A film I made with my friends Annty Marais- parkour coach, mover, athlete; Fizz Hood – movement artist, stunt woman and parkour coach, & Shirley Darlington parkour coach with Parkour Generations. Women see. Women Do. Women Move.”
Breaking the Jump.” — Julie’s book about Parkour: “But more than a sport that most jaw-dropped onlookers can hardly comprehend, Parkour is an exploration of movement and a return to our body’s natural ability to run, jump, hang and move with fluidity.”
Ciné Parkour — “A cinematic and theoretical contribution to the understanding of the practice of parkour.”
British filmmaker Shane Meadows is mentioned in relation to his work and approach to filmmaking.
The 5 Obstructions is noted as a documentary featuring filmmaker Lars von Trier.
The other day I read a one-year-ago journal entry, and had a strong impression of having a long-distance conversation. Although I had not the slightest memory of writing the entry, it was clearly me. In fact, the me writing in those moments past, had something striking to say to the me reading a year later. Something insightful. Nearly poetic. Definitely useful.
The entry wasn’t from a depressed past–me. It wasn’t from a hopeful past–me. It was from someone who clearly had insight, who had thoughtfully crafted some phrasing, and who had included quotations for thematic punctuation. This happens to me a lot— nearly daily. I’m so glad that past me took the time (for it really does take prodigious amounts of time) to write that entry. And so I keep writing to myself in my journal.
Other times I find things in my journal that were clearly important—way too important—at the time, but I can’t recall the feeling. Sometimes I can’t even recall the event or project.
All of which serves to provide me with perspective and guidance on the faux urgencies and importanties of my todays.
Everything is fun, until one’s expectations are crushed. I thought I was getting the convenience of online shopping for things that were previously literally unavailable; Instead, the local stores closed and I’ve lost the convenience of local purchasing. I thought I was getting expanded communication via email; Instead, I’ve been overrun by people taking advantage of the ease of access. In 1989 I was excited by what we could all do with the Internet. So excited, that in 1994 I quit a funded research position and dropped out of graduate school.
Today’s internet is largely shaped by a dialog between two ideas. One position considers personal data as a form of property, the opposing position considers personal data as an extension of the self. The latter grants inalienable rights because a person’s dignity – traditionally manifested in our bodies or certain rights of expression and privacy – cannot be negotiated, bought, or sold.
There’s nothing wrong with the Internet. There’s nothing wrong with people. There’s nothing wrong with government. The problem is in everyone’s failure to think things through. “Can” and “should” are very different animals. Until a plurality of people think things through—until a plurality of people stop delivering themselves into the power of ideas they do not know they have accepted—there will be nothing new under the sun.
I write a lot about “looking back”. (A lot: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and 21 more posts, plus “looking back” has another 17 posts.) I clearly believe—I really do—that looking back is best for assessing things.
By all objective metrics, I’m as successful today as I could hope to be a decade ago. I’m happily married, well inside the richest 1% globally, have found my tribe and earned some respect in it. I should be able to relax and take some satisfaction in my current situation. And yet the thought that in 5 years my life will look exactly like it does today fills me with dread.
My title is a nerdy reference to a small detail in the article. But it’s also a nerdy reference to how I feel that everything I write is simply derivative. Nonetheless, I’m looking back. I’m assessing my progress. I’m making some plans and I’m cutting red tape.
The need for conversation is one that many people have not fully acknowledged, perhaps because they have not had occasion to do enough of it or to do it well. I am not suggesting that, in conversing, we serve as each other’s therapists, but I do believe that good talk, when carried on with the right degree of openness, can not only be a great pleasure but also do us a great deal of good, both individually and collectively as members of society.
I agree with Cohen; It’s definitely a need. We humans are inherently social beings. A great way to get companionship and intellectual stimulation is with a nice, juicy, inspiring, thought-provoking, belief-busting, mind-expanding conversation. Also great: Chats over tea. Jawboning over a beer. Whispers by candlelight. Raucous exclamations at the game. Judicious maneuvering. Single-serving sized (h/t Palahniuk.) Week-long retreating. And countless more I’m looking forward to discovering.
I recently had a conversation with someone while recording an episode of Podtalk. They mentioned the importance of naming our audience in the early moments of a podcast episode. An example they gave is: “Do you feel like a square peg trying to fit in a round hole? This podcast is for you.” (If you’re curious about this idea in the context of podcasting see, Naming our audiences.)
This idea was a quake moment for me. Because in order to name my audience—to literally say it, briefly, in a way that someone identifies with… Well, first I have to know who my audience is. I’m well aware one should know “who’s it for?” (If I just want to fiddle in my workshop, whatever-it-is can certainly just be, “it’s for me.”) It’s easy to know “who it’s for?” and to be able to talk about that when asked. It is vastly harder to name the audience, succinctly, in way a that connects with people.
Connection is precious. We can, and must, find ways to be so clear, and so vivid, that people literally feel a reaction when we name our audience. It’d be better if you heard me say this, but what happens when you read…
Are you the curious sort who leans in to find joy in learning and self-awareness? Terrific. You’re in the right place. Know anyone else who should be here too?
Back when I got deeply into running and jumping and playing again, I spent all the rest of my time stiff and achy and sore. It was glorious. I began intentionally working on restorative practices. At first I was doing vanilla stretching routines. Then I started doing more exploratory work with foam rollers and lacrosse balls and resistance bands. Then things got more organized with little, light activities focusing on weak parts. These days I have a finely tuned sense of what needs to be attended to. A little exploratory movement here, an extension there. Something or other feels off—or perhaps it’s better to say: Something or other is noticeable. That attracts my curiosity and exploration.
Scientists call our ability to feel what’s happening inside our bodies interoception. A portmanteau of “interior” and “reception,” it differs from perception, which comes from our five senses, and proprioception, which tells us how we are oriented in space. Interoception is an inner sense having to do with our bodily processes. It can be divided into three rough categories. The first comprises feelings that break through into consciousness based on need; this is how we know when we need to pee or sleep or hydrate, and how we grasp that our hearts are racing after a good jump scare. The second encompasses the unconscious ways in which our brains and bodies communicate; our brains detect high glucose levels in our livers, for example, then release hormones that trigger our metabolisms, and we are unaware of the process. A vast number of these silent interoceptive processes are going on within us all the time.
Aeon has been one of the better things I’ve recently found scattered upon the Internet. It’s not new; It’s new to me. One of my super-powers isn’t actually a super-power. It’s a piece of software that I wrote. Take a look at Aeon and imagine if, somehow, every day you were offered a couple of these essays to consider. Most of them I pass. But some of them…
For those with more serious loss, the decline of one sense often strengthens others. Watch anyone who has had hearing problems for a while and it’s obvious that they are listening differently. They listen with the whole of themselves, bodies turned towards the speaker, drinking in cues. They don’t hear so much as inhale, taking in everything from the expression in the other person’s eyes to the story told by their hands. At a sign language class or a deaf pub night, people — British people, even — will be listening and communicating with everything they have: gesture, expression, if necessary grabbing the other person and physically manhandling them into understanding.
I have always had poor hearing. If you’re a certain age, you’ll remember lining up to go into your school library, where someone gave you headphones and told you to raise your hand when you heard each tone. I didn’t have to raise my hand much, so, yay? /sarcasm Over the years I realized that I was compensating in other ways. Lip-reading being the most obvious. It wasn’t as good as Ye Ol’ Ears, but it worked. Somewhat. Eventually I got hearing aids and that’s another anecdote for another day.
Those who know me best, laugh derisively when I say, “People tell me I’m an amazing listener.” No really. A lot of people tell me that. And after reading that essay, I’m left wondering if having really poor hearing for most of my life, might be the secret to my listening.
I remain only slightly less clueless than as on my birth day. No clue then. After about a trillion seconds of learning, I’ve still not much to go on. Some things have worked— but I’m not sure exactly why. Some things haven’t worked— also not sure why. The only clues I have are very abstract, fortune-cookie sized, clues like: “Work hard. Stay Humble.” (And a few I’ve cribbed from Lao Tsu and Marcus Aurelius come to think of it.)
The following recipe assumes you’re very ambitious.
The first step is to decide what to work on. The work you choose needs to have three qualities: it has to be something you have a natural aptitude for, that you have a deep interest in, and that offers scope to do great work.
I’ve often wished there’d been a How to Be Human manual. I’m not sure how one would learn the contents very early on. (How does one learn the first chapters pre-language?) Each year, as one levels up, the next chapter of the manual would become available. Arguably, the entire book reduces to: “Relax. Breath.” But, somewhere around chapter 7 I’d very much liked to have found what Graham wrote. (Even though I’d probably have ignored it until about level 22.)
How does one navigate and sustain motivation through personal and professional challenges in long-term creative and athletic pursuits, while balancing innovation, personal growth, and community impact?
René Scavington joins Craig to discuss the evolution of parkour, his new film and his ongoing quest for innovation and wonder.
I feel like if I’m trying to do bigger jumps, there’s a smaller window of time because I’m eventually going to tip off in power output. But flips and other freestyle type moves, I feel like I can age with those a little better. […] I think if we’re going to expect anything out of me, I would say it might be more of that. In the future, just trying to be a bit more playful— A bit more loose. And I think that was harder to do in the early days of parkour. I think scenes and communities were a little meaner.
~ René Scavington 24:27
René gravitates around the evolution and nuances of parkour, revealing his perspectives and experiences within the discipline. He touches on experimentation, highlighting its growing acceptance over time. He notes the shift from a past where trying odd moves or playful variations was met with disdain, contrasting it with the current atmosphere where experimentation is often embraced and sometimes even celebrated.
René goes into his personal journey and the meticulous, relentless dedication he embodies in his practice. The conversation reveals the essence of René’s movement captured in his forthcoming film, Resilient. René speaks candidly about his 20-year commitment to parkour, and about his attitude despite the challenges. His discusses his relentless pursuit of certain flips, acknowledging the struggle to balance his progression in flips alongside the continuous advancements in parkour techniques.
Takeaways
Evolution of experimentation — The shift in the parkour community’s attitude toward experimentation.
Relentless dedication — René’s 20-year commitment to parkour reflects his focused and persistent nature.
Resilient — René’s explains the motivations and vision that went into his forthcoming film.
Enduring wonder and curiosity — René shares his perpetual sense of wonder and curiosity, finding inspiration in envisioning new possibilities and an enduring passion for the discipline’s potential.
https://www.sportparkourleague.com Sport Parkour League was founded with the mission of creating an engaging competitive platform for parkour athletes that remains true to the culture.
Suppose I wanted to give something up, but I’m completely baffled by how to decide which thing. I’m not talking about needing to give something up. I mean: This is all nice, and I’d like to have less. It turns out I spend a lot of time thinking about what to give up, and how to give it up. And who would I be once that thing that I do ceased. And why am I still making the mistake of identifying who I am as what I do? (I run, but I am not a runner.) Most of the answers I’ve found to, “what to give up and how?” come from visualization exercises. I know in fact that I will eventually give it all up. Suddenly, it’s no longer about “if”, but more simply “when”. If next decade is fine, why not next year? …why not right now?
To change a habit – whether you’re starting a new habit or quitting an old one – you have to let go of something really important to you. This is why most people struggle with habit change – it’s not easy to let go of your sacred cows.
As always Babauta’s thoughts and perspective inspire me to pause, breath, relax. We do need space, because without space when are we comfortable simply being? I now often find I do have such space. Although my urge remains to fill the spaces up with doing, not-breathing, grasping— Therefore I continue, slowly. breathing. relaxing. visualizing. being.
If I’m never able to acknowledge that the current moment is nice, then what’s the point? Never noticing it’s nice leads to the aching feeling that—as the thread-bare adage goes—time is slipping through my fingers like sand through an hourglass.
Time management is a cognitively strenuous task, leaving us feeling harried. As the opportunity cost of time increases, our concern about “wasting” our precious hours grows more acute. On balance, we are better off, but the blessing of high-value time can overwhelm some individuals, just as can the ready availability of high-calorie food.
Fortunately I have taken steps to ensure that I regularly notice, and think, “this is nice.” I’m not always successful; I can still be spotted being a grumpster, or a petulant three-year-old. But that’s the point: Life is a range of experiences, and once I realized my scale of judgement were always tipped to one side, when that’s clearly not the reality of my existence, I set about adjusting the scale.