An important, but counter-intuitive, strategy we found essential in this style of research is to avoid simply asking people for advice. When you ask for advice, you’ll often get vague, unhelpful answers. Instead, you need to observe what the top performers in your field are actually doing differently. Act like a journalist not a protege. This can often yield surprising insights about what actually matters to move forward.
There are some people who give advice well. There are far more people who can give useful answers to good questions. Asking, “what do you think I should do,” isn’t going to get you useful guidance nearly as often as asking, “how did you do that.” You simply must do the hard work of figuring out whom to ask, and what to ask them.
In a recent conversation on the podcast, Thomas Droge brought up the idea of seeking younger persons to be your mentors; maybe not a formal mentorship relationship, but to be open to being a sort of stealth protege (my interpretation, not his words.) These two ideas dovetail: If you try to ask a younger person, literally, for advice, that’s not going to work well nearly as often as asking, “how did you do that?”
This is patently obvious, right? Food, shelter, stability, … good old Maslow.
slip:2te1.
For me at least, there was a transition period— I might even call it a period of listlessness. Certainly there was frenetic outward activity; this was after all my period of biking, (the second love affair with a bicycle,) and the rise of my interest in Art du Déplacement. But it was definitely a period of inward listlessness.
It took years of reading and rumination before I realized what was missing. At which point I set off on a quest. Only to succeed, and set off on a new quest, and again. And again. Not existential-meaning-of-life quests, but simply, “that seems interesting and maybe I’ll try it,” quests.
In the end it was clear that I have—and maybe you do too—an inherent curiosity that, if I’m lucky, will never be satisfied.
Motivation will get you out the door, but it fades over time. A good book or podcast might give you the momentary impulse to take your first steps along a path, but when the road gets tough only discipline will keep you moving forward.
Edwardes is a well-known figure in the world of Parkour. He’s someone I’m proud to call a friend. A little over a year ago, I had a quiet, private, late-evening conversation about businesses and movement and Parkour and I’m pretty sure we touched on motivation. …or at least, I know motivation was something bouncing around in my head. Specifically: lack thereof. I’m not even sure that I realized that at the time, but it’s clear to me now.
At the time though, I definitely experienced a sort of ground-shifting sensation. I don’t generally fan-boy on Parkour people, and I’m pretty sure I never did that with respect to Edwardes. No, it was more like—something I’ve experienced on several occasions with Parkour luminaries—I was suddenly aware that I hadn’t been fawning [for years] over this person. No, here I was, once again, in a cool conversation with a fellow human. Being.
These days, I’m doubling-down on discipline and that quoted blog post and that conversation conspired to inspire me to make a fresh post.
How can we incorporate nature and movement into our lives to foster health, reflection, and personal growth?
How does a professional tri-athlete become a barefoot nomad? The path has never been clearer to Jessi Stensland. She discusses the role of movement in her life, before diving into her passion: feet. Jessi unpacks her own journey of foot discovery, and shares foot recommendations for others. She describes her personal reflective practices, and her focus of prioritizing nature in her life.
In other words, if people come up to me on the trail and they say, ‘Do you run barefoot?’ And I said, ‘I don’t run barefoot. I run. You run in shoes. And why?’ Because we have a shoe company called Vivo Barefoot, ‘live barefoot.’ The first time someone asked me, ‘What does barefoot mean to you, Jessi?’, I was like whoa! If someone has to ask me—very, very wholeheartedly ask me—what I think the word barefoot means… Something’s wrong with that word in our day and age now, unfortunately.
~ Jessi Stensland (14:05)
Jessi Stensland is a Nature-based, movement-inspired, wild and free human currently in living in Oaxaca, Mexico. She has a background in human performance, was a college swimmer, professional triathlete and mountain sport athlete who more recently began exploring parkour and dance. Jessi is working on a concept designed to inspire a rerooting of our collective core values within Nature. She is passionate about living with Nature, moving in Nature, and about permaculture, foraging, growing food, floor sleeping and, as always: free feet.
The conversation explores how reconnecting with nature and understanding our bodies can inspire profound personal growth and reflection. Jessi shares how her journey into barefoot living transformed her approach to movement and life. She discusses the physical and sensory benefits of engaging with natural environments, emphasizing the importance of texture, variability, and sensory stimulation for healthy feet and overall well-being. Her self-discovery highlights how societal norms, like reliance on shoes, can obscure our connection to natural movement.
Another central theme is the mental and emotional clarity derived from living in harmony with nature. Jessi explains how daily exposure to natural elements and reflective practices, such as mindful interaction with the environment, allow her to process her thoughts and recharge. The discussion also touches on broader topics, including the importance of childhood freedom, permaculture, and foraging, as ways to deepen our relationship with nature and enrich our lives.
Takeaways
Nature as a priority — Incorporating nature into daily life enhances physical and mental well-being.
Barefoot living — Exploring the benefits of minimal footwear and natural ground textures.
Self-discovery — Movement and reflection serve as tools for understanding the body and mind.
Childlike curiosity — Adopting a playful, exploratory approach to movement and life.
Permaculture and foraging — Engaging with local environments through sustainable practices.
Sensory connection — Using natural sensations to reconnect with the body and the earth.
Cognitive load matters. Mullainathan and Shafir believe that scarcity imposes a similar mental tax, impairing our ability to perform well, and exercise self-control.
Short of food: starving. Short of water: dehydration. Short of money: in debt. Short of time: over-committed. Short of attention: distracted, mindless. But also, short of outlets for creativity? Short of satisfaction? Short of peace? Short of meaning?
I feel my title’s use of “enabling” rather than the more common [that I’ve seen] “creating” is important. (Of course, I don’t craft the titles with reckless abandon; There’d be far more, “Wordy werds” and “Completely different” type titles.) But in the past couple weeks I’ve been focused on the distinction between “to create” and “to enable.”
I’ve been sprinkling a Lonely Hearts-inspired call in a few different places as I think it’s time to bring a writer onto the Movers Mindset team. Each time I post it somewhere, it kicks off one or two conversations with someone. Each of those little conversations gives me a chance to refine how I convey my vision for this new role. (As a certain reader would say, how I convey my intention—hi Angie!)
The first thing I realized is that what I am bringing to this potential new relationship is the resources—the raw material that the team has amassed. I don’t in fact know exactly what the new person would be creating. My intention is to enable someone to create something (some things?) from that raw material. I’m not creating the possibility—it’s there already. My hope is to enable that possibility to come to fruition.
To be a digital minimalist, in other words, means you accept the idea that new communication technologies have the potential to massively improve your life, but also recognize that realizing this potential is hard work.
That’s from, On Digital Minimalism and is the most succinct description of digital minimalism I have ever seeing.
slip:4ucabo27.
“Realizing this potential is hard work,” is a sublime understatement. Tracy asked me for a password to something and we ended up in a deep rabbit hole of having to also share the security questions, and it’s tied to my cell phone and actually I don’t know what the password is because I forgot to store it (in my little password management tool) even though my browser had it remembered so I’d been logging in for . . . Complicated.
Obviously in the case of the password, it was worth the effort. But then, next minute, we’re faced with the newest social service, and this software and that software and on and on. Choosing the default of engaging with each thing is an already-lost war.
The main difference between innovators and the rest of us is that innovators ask more and better questions “and they are more driven to find answers and embrace them, even if the answers are first not what they wanted or expected to find,” Lang writes. “They have less in common with Einstein, frankly, than with young children.”
It’s common to talk about, (write about, read about,) how questions are the key to pretty much everything. But, I agree with this article. It’s not just about the questions, it’s about the curiosity, drive, tenacity, and possession to find answers to the questions. What makes someone an innovator, a rising star, is their ability—or if they’re really exceptional, their affliction of being unable to stop searching for the answers—to dig and dig and dig and learn and learn and learn. For innovators, all the hard work is front-loaded while the part that looks like the innovation is simply the obvious last step.
In this situation, before committing to a three year PhD, you better make sure you spend three months trying out research in an internship. And before that, it seems a wise use of your time to allocate three days to try out research on your own. And you better spend three minutes beforehand thinking about whether you like research.
This one caught my eye because the vague heuristic of spending increasing amounts of effort at each attempt to solve a problem felt true. But I was thinking of it from the point of view of fixing some process— Like a broken software system that occasionally catches fire. Putting the fire out is trivial, but the second time I start trying to prevent that little fire. The third time I find I’m more curious as to why does it catch fire, and why didn’t my first fix make a difference. The fourth time I’m taking off the kid gloves and bringing in industrial lighting, and power tools. The fifth time I’m roping in mathematicians and textbooks and wondering if I’m trying to solve the Halting Problem.
Turns out the context of the problem doesn’t matter. The answer is, “2.” Every time you attempt to solve a problem—any sort of problem, any context, any challenge, any unknown—the most efficient application of your effort is to expend just a bit less than twice the effort of your last attempt.
Not, “it feels like twice would be good,” but rather: Doubling your efforts each time is literally the best course of action.
…and now that I’ve written this. My brain dredges up the Exponential Backoff algorithm. That’s been packed in the back of my brain for 30 years. I’ve always known that was the chosen solution to a very hard problem. (“Hard,” as in proven to be impossible to solve generally, so one needs a heuristic and some hope.) They didn’t just pick that algorithm; Turns out it’s the actual best solution.
Caballero found what appears to fit the bill—a star that is very nearly a mirror image of the sun—and is located in the part of the sky where the Wow! signal originated. He notes that there are other possible candidates in the area but suggests his candidate might provide the best launching point for a new research effort by astronomers who have the tools to look for exoplanets.
The original Wow! Signal was recorded in 1977. It makes me happy to think that the human race has progressed so far as to be able to detect extrasolar planets, in the right place… well, “wow” indeed.
What would it be like to be alive when, (not if, I say,) we find our first neighbor?
I’m sure I must have been stalling at some point in my life, but ain’t nobody got time for that now. Sometimes my stalling manifested as frenetic deck-chair arranging when I was actually stalling on the rudder improvement project. Sometimes it manifested as deep, pensive stretches of prodigious cogitation. Now I’m all like: Manifest destiny!
This book is complicated and ambitious. But there’s one thread in particular that I think is worth underscoring. Crawford notes that the real problem with the current distracted state of our culture is not the prevalence of new distracting technologies. These are simply a reaction to a more fundamental reality:
“[W]e are agnostic on the question of what is worth paying attention to — that is, what to value.”
In the absence of strongly-held answers to this question our attention remains adrift and unclaimed — we cannot, therefore, be surprised that app-peddlers and sticky websites swooped in to aggressively feast on this abundant resource.
Originally I thought “social media” itself was the problem. Eventually it became clear to me that social media is the symptom. People want to be fed saccharine lives through their phones because they’ve never been taught that they need to consciously make decisions about what’s important to them.
I’ve a system of daily reminders; of course it’s complicated.
For years now, a few of my reminders have simply been questions. I recently started writing something to go with those questions making them feel more at home with some of my other reminders and prompts which had some exposition with them when I found them. I thought it would be interesting to share what I added to this question today:
WHAT HAVE I BEEN READING? — I’ve performed this experiment countless times. Read less: nothing happens. Read more: ideas, new connections, inspiration, questions, motivation, short-cuts, wonder.
It is increasingly clear that neither of these assumptions is correct. Despite the claims of epidemiologists, our best efforts have never been able to reduce the number of newly reported COVID-19 cases for the world as a whole for any significant period of time. In fact, the latest week seems to be the highest week so far.
It’s not meant as a doom-and-gloom quote. The article goes on to talk about how our economies really work and what’s really going on.
I’ve a tag for Tverberg for a reason. You should read everything she’s ever written—which would be hard because you’d have to also wade through the amazing, museum-piece that is The Oil Drum. I use that site as a litmus test for anyone who ever mentions “energy”—”Have you heard of The Oil Drum site?” If they have, then I’m really listening.
What roles do culture, community, and personal experience play in shaping the art and teaching of street dance?
Some things go beyond a passion to become a way of life… For Kyle ‘Just Sole’ and Dinita ‘Queen Di’ Clark that way of life is street dance. They share their story; how they started dancing, their backgrounds, and their work as choreographers and professors. Just Sole and Queen Di describe their experiences with dance, from clubbing to teaching, and explain the culture and community of street dance. They discuss family, home and travel, and how dance weaves through everything in their lives.
It’s actually a surrendering to music. That’s what dance says, it’s a surrendering, it’s a commitment, it’s a letting go of your preconceived notion to accept it, to express your conceived notion with it.
~ Kyle ‘Just Sole’ Clark (45:40)
Kyle ‘Just Sole’ and Dinita ‘Queen Di’ Clark are dancers, choreographers, educators, and parents. Currently college professors, they have competed, taught, traveled, and performed together around the world for the last decade. Just Sole and Queen Di founded the “Just Sole! Street Dance Theater” company, and educational program “Funky Sole Fundamentals” to preserve the culture and styles of hip hop, funk, and house dance.
The beautiful thing about hip hop and street dance culture is, you are allowed to be yourself within the culture.
~ Dinita ‘Queen Di’ Clark (36:00)
The conversation centers on the deep cultural, spiritual, and personal significance of street dance. Kyle and Dinita discuss how street dance is more than movement; it’s a form of expression and a way of life, intricately tied to music, history, and community. They highlight the role of personal upbringing and exposure to music and movement in shaping their artistic journeys, describing dance as a universal language that everyone can connect with, but only those who actively participate truly understand.
Queen Di and Just Sole also emphasize the responsibility of teaching street dance, including preserving its cultural roots and passing on its history. They address misconceptions about the art form, such as the lack of perceived technique, and stress the importance of engaging directly with the culture through clubs, ciphers, and shared experiences. The discussion also touches on themes of appropriation, education, and the universal appeal of dance as a means of connection and spiritual release.
Takeaways
Participation in culture — True understanding and belonging in street dance require active participation, not just learning moves or theory.
Teaching with responsibility — Educators have a duty to preserve and respect the cultural roots of street dance while guiding students in their personal expression.
Dance as spiritual expression — Beyond movement, street dance connects deeply to music, offering a spiritual and emotional release.
Universal accessibility — While everyone can dance in theory, achieving a profound connection requires dedication and openness.
Cultural preservation — Maintaining the history and essence of street dance ensures its authenticity and relevance for future generations.
Let me tell you, then, how you must think of me. I am as happy and lively as in my best days. Indeed, these days are my best, for my mind is now free of preoccupations and has leisure for its own concerns; now it amuses itself with lighter studies and now, pressing keenly after truth, it rises to the contemplation of its own nature and the nature of the universe. First it investigates the continents and their position, then the laws which govern the sea which surrounds them with its alternate ebb and flow, and then it examines the stretch which lies between heaven and earth and teems with such tumultuous and terrifying phenomena as thunder and lightning and gales and the precipitation of rain and snow and hail. Finally, when it has traversed the lower reaches, it bursts through to the realms above where it enjoys the fairest spectacle of things divine and, mindful of its eternity, moves freely among all that was and all that will be world without end.
This type and period of writing is referred to as “silver point.” It’s highly polished, almost performance art in itself. Some pieces of silver point—including in my opinion swaths of Seneca’s writing—are tortuous to the language. (As I understand it, tortuous in the original as well as the English.)
What I’ve quoted is the ending of his letter. 2,000 years later, sounds to me like the human experience remains identical.
Continuing my deep dive—hopefully it doesn’t become a drowning—into Knowledge Systems: Yesterday I spent a little time tinkering with Discourse to see what I could do with it. There is a mind-numbing array of tools that could be used, but I keep coming back to the point that I don’t actually understand what I’m trying to build.
I’ve spent significant time thinking about that, and reading about that, but it’s still not clear. It’s like standing in an aisle of tools each shiny and powerful; I know people who have piles of tools. Fortunately, the best way to understand is to build. And so building I am. (Out of sight privately, sorry.)
I seem to recall hearing a metaphor about house building: Start with a sofa in the lawn, add features as needed. Be prepared to knock it down and start again.
Zettelkasten is usually mentioned as a note-taking method. However, the end goal of Zettelkasten is not gathering and collecting notes, but rather creating a competent and knowledgeable communication partner. The main interaction with the slip-box is not when we are writing and adding new notes, because the slip-box is not there to be an archive of our memory and knowledge. Slip-box is there to be an apparatus with which we think. Therefore, the main interaction is when we communicate with the slip-box by confronting ourselves and our thinking with our prior knowledge.
This appears to be part four of a series: On knowledge systems, Push and pull, and Commonplace notebooks. Depending where you are on your personal journey you may have been sitting back, chuckling, waiting for me to “discover” zettelkasten. …to which I reply, “y u no email me about zettelkasten?!”
Now this idea I definitely have seen before. I can recall stumbling on the idea very early in my personal productivity and self-awareness journey. Without looking, I’ll bet I found it first on 43 Folders. I had the distinct pleasure of following along through Merlin Mann’s journey—trying to keep up, but not succeeding at the time. (Posts on that site run from 2004, through 2011.) If you just went, “43 Folders? …what’s that?” You need to go look at 43 Folders.
…oh sorry, I was off on a tangent there. I just realized Mann has a podcast that’s on episode #503. Shit. Another thing I probably need to listen too. I’ll just say: My web site serialize tool can drip podcast show notes pages at me too, so I’ll drip all those so I can skim the show notes, and I’ll just listen to the few that are “must listen” [in my opinion of course.]
*shudder* I’m all over the map today. Zettelkasten, right.
When I first encountered it, I got stuck on the idea that it’s “notes” in “boxes.” Why would anyone want to do that, now that we have (back then) web sites where you can tag stuff, search, edit, etc.? Now I see this part—trimming my lead quote down—is the neat part:
The end goal of Zettelkasten is creating a competent and knowledgeable communication partner. The slip-box is there to be an apparatus with which we think. Therefore, the main interaction is when we communicate with the slip-box by confronting ourselves and our thinking with our prior knowledge.
Do you see it now? The slip-box system can be slips of paper, digital notes/files, or many other implementations. The original slip-boxes (physical things, pre-Internet… actually, pre-electricity,) were used by one person. Using modern technology we can implement one that allows people to collaborate too. (If we wanted. Not saying I necessarily want that.)
Oh, and guess what I built four years ago. A very complicated, (that’s not a compliment,) system for weaving together references, summaries, and articles on a site called Hilbert’s Library. It was literally my first attempt to build a knowledge management system. I’m now thinking it’s over-designed—I mean yes, sure… I over-think and over-design everything. But I mean that now I see why the design I built into it actually gets in the way of it being maximally useful as a knowledge management system.
What? Oh, yes, people have built lots of ways to implement slip-boxes. Notably, Emvi does that (among other things, because zettelkasten can be confusing so they pitch it in various use cases.)
Continuing my train of thought from On knowledge systems and Push and pull, today I want to dive into something called a commonplace book. (For the third time: no denouement today.) In line with more modern language usage, I’m going to prefer commonplace notebook; books are today commonplace, and we use the word “notebook” for the ones we create privately.
Settle in, this is about to get tangential.
I first encountered this idea at 8am, November 13th, 2020. Literally. I’ve never heard of the idea of a “commonplace book” previously. And here I am in the midst of finally pulling on a thread which I’ve been calling a quest for a knowledge system… trying to solve a problem which is as yet ill formed. I’ve been reading through the entire https://fs.blog web site; it’s like 5,000 non-trivial web pages skimming a few every day for well over a year. This November 13th a little before 8am I happen to reach, John Locke’s Method of Organizing Common Place Books. Which, probably is not worth clicking through. First off, “common” modifies “place” so we can drop “common” without fundamentally changing the meaning—so sayeth grammar. Therefore Locke’s method is for organizing books about places. I very nearly didn’t even skim it. But I did. And realized it’s his method for organizing commonplace books. Oh my god Becky, that’s completely different. Wait, what’s a commonplace book? (There’s a link in that post about Locke’s method.) POW!
Commonplace books are personal knowledge libraries; notebooks full of collected ideas and bits of wisdom all mixed up together. Here, we take a look at their history and benefits.
Am I on Candid Camera? This is so apropos of my recent thinking, it’s H.P. Lovecraft level eery.
Zooming out…
The knowledge system I’m seeking is not simply a repository into which I want to toss everything. For example, Evernote is not a solution that will work. It’s too easy to put things in. (Likewise for any home-grown version I might cook up with documents or cloud storage.) Sure, Evernote and other solutions are eminently searchable—that’s a good thing. But I continue to avoid such tools because… well, because I don’t want simply a giant collection of everything. I don’t want to simply amass everything I’ve ever been exposed to. (We already have an Internet. We don’t need Craig’s Internet assembled within the other.) But, I’ll call these desirables the “power” features.
I’m intrigued by the commonplace notebook solution as it requires a good bit of effort to add things. Effort is required to evaluate each new idea to be added. Effort is required to see how it “hangs together with” the rest of what I know, at the time when I encounter the new thing. This suggests individual, manual and mental labor, [meaning I have to do everything, possibly even including manually writing things down on paper] is also a desirable feature.
Some combination of those “power” and “manual” features feels like a sweet spot.
Not to feel exasperated, or defeated, or despondent because your days aren’t packed with wise and moral actions. But to get back up when you fail, to celebrate behaving like a human—however imperfectly—and fully embrace the pursuit that you’ve embarked on.