This was a sample data set from 1996 through mid-2019, but maybe the most shocking number is the 2018 one: after just a year, one in every sixteen links from the Times’ website to an external source had stopped working. The Times already has an attribution problem; this just makes it worse. The researchers point out that URLs within U.S. Supreme Court opinions fare even worse, with about half of links not working as originally intended.
I’m not picking on the Times nor the Supreme Court, link rot is everywhere. Heer does a nice job of laying out what’s really going on; it’s not just that the links are ceasing to work, but also that the actual contents of digital stuff is changing. (And that’s all in addition to problems with data corruption and degradation.) However, his article is really about highlighting some of the neat things people are doing to preserve things. It’s worth clicking through just for the anecdote about how “Nookd” curiously appears in one edition of War and Peace.
And on the other hand, we’re all painfully aware that our lives are becoming more public and we’re losing our privacy. If you put it anywhere on the Internet, we can generalize and assume it’s eventually going to become public. In some cases, it’d be exactly what we want for things to rot— or maybe it’d be better to say:
In some cases, it’d be exactly what we want for things on the Internet to evaporate.
Some time around 2005—if memory serves, which it probably doesn’t—I discovered the work and blogging of Merlin Mann. Back then, he was neck-deep in a project called 43 Folders: Time, Attention, and Creative Work. It’s self-described as, “[a] website about finding the time and attention to do your best creative work.” The first post there is dated 2004, and the last is gloriously frozen in place from 2011.
There are so many things to mention about that project. Ahhhhhhh, the halcyon days when we all thought “website” was a cool word. (I’m now in the “web site” encampment.) Mann is the guy who, for better [my opinion] or worse [many others’ option], brought “inbox zero” to everyone’s awareness. He also spent years experimenting with processes, and I went on a magical, multi-year journey experimenting with something called the “hipster PDA.” If forced to choose, I’d say Mann is the guy who most greatly influenced my process thinking.
There’s a phrase in cooking, mise en place, meaning to have everything in its proper place before starting. (The classic example of failure in this regard is to be half-way through making something only to realize you’re missing an ingredient and having to throw away the food.)
Well Mann is the guy who—in my opinion—has done the most to improve processes for knowledge workers and creative people. I’m not sure if he’s ever said it explicitly, but a huge part of what he did was to elevate knowledge workers and creatives by cultivating a mise en place mindset.
But then I realized a larger, unsettling truth: Much of the food grown in this country isn’t the medicine it should—or used—to be. We’re collectively getting sicker, not healthier. And for others to have the same healing I was privileged to experience; we must start with the soil.
When you’re growing up, you don’t really notice where you are doing it. Your parents, (or legal guardian(s) or perhaps even the State,) chose where you were planted. Bereshith, you’re planted in a very tiny space, then gradually moved to progressively larger spaces with fewer physical boundaries. Until one day you realize there’s basically no one left telling you what to do nor where to do it. If you never really thought about it, and nothing forced you to move, you’re probably still close to that original very tiny space, and probably still close to the progressively larger spaces too.
Then one day—I really do hope—you start to wonder what’s happened before, in the wherever you are now. I’ve a litany of, “woa, that’s cool!” historical bits and pieces found in my surrounds. But that the idea of “organic”—all of it, the word, the principles, everything—originated with one guy, within walking distance of my home, that’s sort of amazing. Rodale, (the family members, and the eponymous companies,) have done a lot—some good, some bad—but I find it unsurprising they did it here, in the Lehigh Valley. There’s a lot this area has going for it.
How does the creative process of hosting a podcast foster meaningful connections and insights for both the host and listeners?
The exchange examines the balance between preparation and spontaneity in meaningful dialogue.
The intention of the podcast was always just listening to flow. Let’s allow the creativity to flow through us. So now sometimes when we are so focused on our mind about what is next, what’s going to be said next, and planning ahead, we close ourselves to the possibility of allowing for the insights that can come from a deeper place, more wisdom that can bring more light to the conversation.
~ Claudia Velandia (1:46)
The conversation explores the creative dynamics of podcasting, emphasizing the role of flow and intentionality. Claudia describes how her podcast began as a way to capture the insightful, spontaneous conversations she shared with friends. Over time, the podcast evolved to include guests whose journeys provide value to listeners. She reflects on the challenges of staying present and resisting the urge to overly plan, as such planning can limit the emergence of deeper insights and wisdom.
Claudia shares how setting intentions before recording helps create an open and authentic environment. She discusses how mindfulness practices, such as meditating and grounding oneself, foster connection and creativity. The discussion also touches on broader themes of success, which Claudia defines as staying aligned with her purpose and enjoying the process. She emphasizes that even a single listener connecting with the podcast’s message makes the effort worthwhile, reinforcing her commitment to creating meaningful content.
We tend to think that what we see is all there is — that there is nothing we cannot see. We know it isn’t true when we stop and think, yet we still get lulled into a trap of omniscience.
Admiral Ackbar called it correctly in Return of the Jedit, and this too is a trap. There are many paths to the top of the mountain, but they are generally of two types: the harder, science ways, and the softer, experiential ways. Both of those types have their traps. If one is strictly a follower of the hard, science paths up the mountain, one will be lulled into this trap of faux omniscience. And if one is a strict follower of the soft, experiential paths, one will be lulled into a trap of… well, I’ve not travelled much on those paths. My prescription is those travelers would do well to try these hard, science paths more. Therefore, I should try those soft, experiential paths more.
Which path are you currently on, and do you have a pattern of choosing one type over the other?
It isn’t clear why you’ve been sent back. Maybe it was a cosmic accounting error, or a boon from a playful God. All you know is that you’re here again, walking the earth, having been inexplicably returned to the temporary and mysterious state of Being Alive.
But first, pardon me while I get a song stuck in your head… like, all-day stuck.
She could hear the cars roll by Out on 441 Like waves crashin’ on the beach And for one desperate moment there He crept back in her memory God it’s so painful Something that’s so close And still so far out of reach
~ Tom Petty, but you knew that
Tom Petty died in 2017—I hope that wasn’t a spoiler. It seems, based on my quick search, that his last public performance included this as the last song he performed. omg the feels. Stop, go watch that entire 7-minute video. If that doesn’t move you…
There’s a moment late in the video where the jumbo-screen behind them says, “without YOU, there’d be no US” — or something close to that second part, it’s obscured. I think that points to something exceptional about TPatHB. Forty years, and grateful for the experience of that specific night.
Now, reread the pull-quote and then read Cain’s suggested practice.
Last week, one of your fellow readers hit reply—replies come directly to my personal email box—and shared some thoughts about connections and interesting juxtapositions in the week’s email. After I pointed out that the patterns they commented on, were simply a byproduct of how I write and how the email is assembled automatically, they rightly observed, “Lol, humans finding patterns where they don’t exist. A timeless classic.” I completely agree, and our power of pattern-finding is an awesome tool.
I was reading, and found a new-to-me Einstein quote. (You’ll find it soon, some time in February.) When I capture a quote from someone already in my collection, I have to check; There are ~800 quotes these days and sometimes I “find” one I’ve forgotten. (Surprisingly though, I can usually tell on sight if it’s in the collection already.) This led me to a search for “einstein” here on the blog. (There’s also a tag for Albert Einstein, but the search nets more posts including those I failed to tag.) I found a quote already on the blog—but not the new one that prompted it all—that was so old, it wasn’t in my collection. I fixed that, leading to a very old blog post, with a very high slipbox address, 4a784: Part of a Whole. And also 4a789: Do You Have a Question? Those were posted in 2013.
For as long as I’ve been recording podcasts I’ve wanted to figure out how to learn more, and retain more, from the conversations. An audio recording of a good conversation can be a good experience for the listener; It can be good experiential learning. But the conversations contain so much more—facts sure, but also connections to other people, projects, stories, new perspectives, insights—which I know I’m missing. If something prompts my memory, I can recall the experience of the conversation, but everything else is either never learned, or if it was, I’ve subsequently lost it.
I’m reminded of…
If you remember what an author says, you have learned something from reading him. If what he says is true, you have even learned something about the world. But whether it is a fact about the book or a fact about the world that you have learned, you have gained nothing but information if you have exercised only your memory. You have not been enlightened. Enlightenment is achieved only when, in addition to knowing what an author says, you know what he means and why he says it.
There are multiple levels of understanding and learning, contained in each conversation. At the root of my feeling that I’m missing out is the knowledge that I’m only retaining the most-superficial level of the experience.
Who’s it for?
It’s obviously for me. But by doing the writing in public everyone who finds a specific episode interesting would be able to capture and retain more of those “levels of experience” for themselves.
What makes bike racing a unique and transformative experience for individuals and communities?
Bike racing is Joan Hanscom’s life; from racing for fun, to professionally organizing races, to running an entire bike racing organization, Joan has done it all. She talks about all things bike racing; from how she got started, to organizing, to the challenges facing women in the sport. Joan discusses her work at the Valley Preferred Cycling Center, and the importance of outreach and the larger picture. She shares her insights on passion, training, podcasting, and what a career in the sport means to her.
As a person who’s had a career in bike racing since 2002, I was well versed in knowing what the velodrome was, and it was sort of an honor to be tasked with this role. If there’s one thing that I want the velodrome to be is, it’s fun, because that matters. But I also want it to be a place where little kids Pee Wee Pedalers, Squirts and Weebles Wobbles, all the way up to master’s racers, and everybody in between, elite or not, can come and have fun. To me, it’s a place where we can cultivate this lifelong enjoyment of the bike.
~ Joan Hanscom (20:53)
Joan Hanscom is a cyclist, podcast host, and the Executive Director at Valley Preferred Cycling Center. Her love of the sport helped her build a unique career in race promotion and production, working with organizations such as the US Gran Prix of Cyclocross, Cyclocross World Championships, and USA Cycling. Currently, Joan is the Executive Director of the Valley Preferred Cycling center in Trexlertown, Pa, and hosts the Talk of the T-Town podcast.
It’s the process. It’s the process, no matter what your pursuit is. If you are pursuing excellence in the ballet, it is repetition. It is absolutely repetition. The process of the ballet is every day, there’s a bar, there’s plies, there’s grand plies. There’s jete. It’s a repetition and it’s a process of perfection. Maybe ballet is skewed a little bit more towards perfection than other sports, but it is definitely a repetition and a process and a refinement that you do daily.
~ Joan Hanscom (42:50)
This conversation centers on the multifaceted world of cycling, highlighting its unique sensory and communal experiences. A core theme is the immersive nature of bike racing, from the visceral sounds and sights at the velodrome to the inclusive, community-focused atmosphere it fosters. Joan reflects on her lifelong passion for cycling, tracing it back to her childhood and describing how the sport bridges personal enjoyment and professional achievement. She shares her experiences in organizing races, engaging the local cycling community, and her work at the Valley Preferred Cycling Center, aiming to create an inclusive space for all cyclists, from children to elite athletes.
Another key discussion point is the systemic challenges in the sport, especially regarding women’s participation. Joan outlines how structural gaps, like fewer racing categories and opportunities for women, make progression difficult. She emphasizes the need for investment in underserved groups, stressing that fostering diversity and inclusion can strengthen the sport and grow its community. Alongside these insights, Joan connects cycling to broader values of process, repetition, and community building, drawing parallels to other disciplines like ballet and movement practices.
One final note: say the obvious. Sometimes we might feel that something is obviously good or obviously wrong, and so we don’t say it. Or sometimes we might have a doubt that we don’t express because the question might sound stupid. Say it—that’s okay. You might have to reword it a little bit to make the reader feel more comfortable, but don’t hold it back. Good feedback is transparent, even when it may be obvious.
If you are a human, and particularly if you ever interact with other humans, I think you’ll like this article by Casali. I’m a level-100 Technology Wizard with a sub-specialization in Explaining Things, and I found several insighs—e.g., “timing + attitude + form = respectful feedback”—that improved my integration of what I know about feedback.