I’m lately fascinated by the distinction between when I’m using an activity as a part of my identity (“I am a runner”) versus pointing out that I do an activity (“I run”). This sort of nit matters to me, because the nature of self-identity matters to me. If I am a runner, but then for whatever reason I don’t run… what then am I? What fascinates me isn’t the specific verbs, but rather: What actually am I? This locks me up thinking for long periods. I write. I run. I climb. I jump. Yes, but, what am I?
I look up at the sky, wondering if I’ll catch a glimpse of kindness there, but I don’t. All I see are indifferent summer clouds drifting over the Pacific. And they have nothing to say to me. Clouds are always taciturn. I probably shouldn’t be looking up at them. What I should be looking at is inside of me. Like staring down into a deep well. Can I see kindness there? No, all I see is my own nature.
I enjoyed reading Murakami’s essays. Particularly because I run poorly, I wanted to know what he talks about when he talks about running. In fact, he does talk a great deal about literally running, in addition to the larger perspectives on his life for which everyone loves the book.
But one thing is for sure: I run. But I am not a runner.
Learning to distinguish the map versus the territory is an essential step. It’s critical to learn what a map is, and what maps are good for, in order to proceed with one’s life. Maps enable me to see and do things otherwise impossible; maps reveal unknown unknowns. Maps can also frustrate me endlessly. Sometimes I don’t want to have an opinion; I don’t want to spend the energy to have an opinion. I don’t care how I get from here to there. Just. Tell. Me. how to get there. And of course nothing in this paragraph has to do with literal maps of the world— I’m not talking about cartography nor driving directions.
On closer examination, it turns out there are many things wrong with it. Thousand True Fans is a hollow philosophy. It is Chicken Soup for the Digital Creator’s Soul, ultimately devoid of any real nutritional value.
Kevin Kelly’s 1,000 True Fans is a map, before it there was another map, The Cluetrain Manifesto, and there were others. When you find a new-to-you map it opens your mind to new possibilities. I would assume the first children’s books I encountered were astounding, but wouldn’t have the same effect today. (I’m not denigrating either of those works; I’m not suggesting they are “children’s books”.)
But I do get frustrated. I see a terrific map, and then I want to make a terrific next “move”. That’s not how maps work, Craig. You look at the map, then you take the next small step informed by everything you know, including the new perspective from the new map. You write one sentence (for example, on a page soliciting support for your work) and that’s informed by all the maps you’ve previously seen. Big picture. Little steps.
When I sit down to journal, it’s usually most productive for me to be prospective; to record my observations on my past actions and thinking with the intention of setting out ideas and plans for self-improvement. But sometimes, right in the middle of a large train of thoughts, I’ll veer into this stream-of-consciousness recording of all the things I did in the previous day. It’s usually a mind-boggling list. And it’s usually only a small portion of the stuff I’d hoped to get to that day. Day after week after month after year this appears in my journals. It’s absurd. I’ll never finish even a fraction of what I daily hope to do. And yet, every day I continue to expend tremendous energy just to appear normal.
It would be easy to conclude that an absurdist view of life rules out happiness and leads anyone with any sense to despair at her very existence. And yet in his book, Camus concludes, “One must imagine Sisyphus happy.” This may seem impossible, but in fact, this unexpected twist in Camus’ philosophy of life and happiness can help you change your perspective and see your daily struggles in a new, more equanimous way.
Fortunately, it’s clear to me that I’m not alone in thinking what I’m doing is absurd. (For example, Jake Gyllenhall touches on it in a great conversation with Sam Jones.)
Previously I’ve mentioned David Gross who’s written a long series of articles on virtues. It’s worth discovering his Notes on Empathy.
The basis of empathy is being able to see things from someone else’s point of view. Empathy lets us ‘walk a mile in another man’s shoes’, look at the world through the eyes of another, or any number of other now-clichéd phrases. But while that perspective-taking seems intimately tied to the emotion of the thing – you walk in someone’s shoes to feel their pain, look through their eyes to understand their feelings – it need not be. As recent research suggests, there are times when becoming too emotionally involved actually stifles our empathetic capacity.
I wonder the ordering of the following shifts in my experience, and how these shifts influenced each other: The decrease in the frequency, duration, and intensity of anger I feel? The realization that the anger I was feeling was not—certainly not as often as I believed it was—righteous indignation, nor even true indignation? The understanding of what petulance is and feels like? The increasingly frequent experience of empathy and the emotional experiences it enables? The shift to experiencing frustrations (in the noun-sense that a door is a frustration to movement) as opportunities for further exploration, rather than as blockades and existential crises?
Reading is letting someone else model the world for you. This is an act of intimacy. When the author is morose, you become morose. When he is mirthful, eventually you may share it. And after finishing a very good book one is driven a little mad, forced to return from a world that no one nearby has witnessed.
A couple weeks ago I returned from a wonderful but all too brief trip. I returned with some new perspectives having had a bunch of great conversations about what it is I’m trying to do (on my blog, in the emails I send, in my projects… heck, with my life at large.) I ended up doing a bunch of work trying to make things clearer (saying things more clearly, better storytelling) and overhauling a lot of back-end functionality. A few things you may find interesting…
There’s an old saying familiar to those who work in radio: Radio has the best pictures. It’s obviously a jab at television. But it’s also completely true. Since it doesn’t literally have pictures, listeners are left to imagine, and imagination is almost always better than anything that can be jammed into images. This all goes doubly so for books and reading. I was grudgingly going along with Apple’s production of Asimov’s Foundation series of books. Until they showed me the Mule. (You either know this character, or I’ve lost you.) My heart sunk.
If you explore MicroMUSE today, you’ll get a preview of the fate that awaits all of our social systems. The streets are empty, but it’s more than that: there is a palpable sense of entropy. You can query the system for a list of commands, but many of them no longer work. It’s half glitchy video game, half haunted house. Sometimes it falls offline entirely, only to return days later.
The system still speaks. You are welcomed by the transporter attendant, who gives directions to all newcomers to this space city. It cautions you: Clear communication is very important in a text-based environment…
This article was nearly too much for me to read. That’s the Internet that was growing when I started tinkering. Today, with god-like power (from my 1994 perspective) at my fingertips, it took me 3 seconds to install a telnet client. And just a minute more to learn the answer to Sloan’s main question, “As kids, we make secret worlds – in trees, in our imaginations, even online – but can we go back to them when we’re grown?”
I want to see the world and get a well-rounded view of what’s happening… You can read the news, watch the news all day, but you’re going to get a biased opinion.
~ Evan Beyer, 12’23”
Discover Evan’s desire to break free from the confines of his hometown and venture into different cultures, with Italy as his potential next destination, as he seeks to expand his perspective and embrace new challenges.
The way that I feed my creativity is actually out of curiosity… It’s like how does a doorknob work? Well, take it apart!
~ Evan Beyer, 1’54”
Evan Beyer shares his transformative journey from a rebellious teenager to a passionate movement coach. He discusses how his insatiable curiosity drives his creative pursuits, from woodworking to metalworking, and how he challenges societal stereotypes with his unconventional appearance. Evan reflects on his bold decision to leave his hometown and pursue coaching in Boston, where he found fulfillment and a deep love for teaching movement. He also expresses his aspiration to explore different cultures, particularly Italy, as he continues to seek personal and professional growth.
Living your whole life in one town is like looking at the cover of a book. You don’t know what’s in the pages until you travel.
~ Evan Beyer, a bit of wisdom heard in his childhood, 12’23”
Takeaways
Curiosity and Creativity — Evan emphasizes the importance of nurturing curiosity and allowing it to drive creative pursuits. By exploring new things and constantly seeking to understand how they work, individuals can unlock their creative potential and find inspiration in unexpected places.
The Power of Perception — Evan discusses how people often misjudge him based on his appearance, emphasizing the need to look beyond stereotypes and preconceived notions. It serves as a reminder to not judge others solely based on their outward appearance, as it may not reflect their true nature or intentions.
The Fulfillment of Coaching — Evan shares his personal journey in coaching and highlights the deep satisfaction that comes from imparting knowledge and helping others. Coaching is more than just physical training; it requires a unique set of skills and the ability to convey information effectively.
Embracing New Cultures — Evan expresses a desire to explore different cultures and gain a broader perspective of the world. His aspiration to live and work in different countries reflects the value of immersing oneself in diverse environments, embracing new experiences, and challenging personal boundaries.
The Importance of Community — Throughout the conversation, Evan acknowledges the influence and inspiration he derives from the parkour community and the support of his mentors and friends. He emphasizes the significance of fostering connections with like-minded individuals who share similar passions and can contribute to personal growth and development.
Sometimes I sit and reflect on what it’s all been for. When I am able to briefly clutch a bit of perspective, it’s clear that it’s not all “for” anything specific. Life’s a journey, is none the less true for its being cliché.
The naive activist wants to change the world. But that isn’t necessary: the world is changing anyway.
Lately I seem to be stumbling over a large number of “I should probably know who that is” essays. This one about Swartz is one such essay and it filled in some blanks.
But that little bit which I’ve quoted leapt out at me. The world—all of it, from microbes to society, from rock to Gaia—is so absolutely not static. Any urge I’ve ever had to change anything was actually not an urge for a specific change, rather it was an urge for control.
Explore the need for creative breaks and stepping away from a project, as Karen Morgan and Craig Constantine discuss the value of gaining fresh perspectives and reevaluating their work. They explore the world of stand-up comedy and beyond. Encouraging others to take the plunge, they emphasize the significance of initiating creative projects and letting go of technical worries.
In their engaging conversation, Karen and Craig explore various aspects of the stand-up comedy world. Touching on performance styles, Karen discusses her personal approach, revealing her preference for leaving the microphone in the stand. By doing so, she frees up her hands to incorporate gestures and act out certain elements of her stories, adding a visual component to her comedic performance.
You just have to talk into the microphone. You know, the rest of it is logistics and technology which you can figure out, but the part about talking in the microphone or interviewing people, you just gotta do it and then the technology kind of goes away.
~ Karen Morgan ~21’40”
They also discuss some of the challenges faced by new comics. Karen reflects on her own beginnings in stand-up comedy, recounting her participation in a comedy workshop twenty years ago. She fondly recalls how the instructor immediately pushed the students to stand up and talk into the microphone on the first night, instilling a sense of courage and determination. Drawing parallels to her own podcasting journey, Karen highlights the initial intimidation she felt towards the equipment and technical aspects. However, she emphasizes that ultimately, the most important part is simply talking into the microphone or conducting interviews, and the rest can be figured out along the way.
At some point, you need to take a little break, go for a walk, get some fresh air, then come back and you’ll see it differently or you’ll hear it differently. Sometimes after a show, I won’t listen to my stuff until the next day because I need a break from it. Like, ‘Oh, I can’t physically listen to this with a studious mind. Clearly, right now I’m too tired.’
~ Karen Morgan, ~23’15”
The conversation gets into the importance of taking breaks and gaining fresh perspectives. Karen draws parallels between her experiences in graphic design and comedy writing, explaining how stepping away from a creative project can bring new clarity. She emphasizes the importance of physically removing oneself from the work environment, taking a walk, or engaging in other activities before returning with a fresh mindset.
Craig adds to this notion by sharing his tendency to postpone listening to his recordings, recognizing that exhaustion can hinder the ability to evaluate and appreciate one’s own work objectively. This discussion highlights the importance of self-care and allowing oneself time and space to recharge, ensuring a more effective and insightful creative process.
Take-aways
Individuality in performance — The conversation highlights the diverse approaches that comedians take when performing stand-up comedy. This reminds us that there is no one-size-fits-all approach to comedy (or podcasting!), and performers have the freedom to develop their unique styles and methods to engage the audience.
The importance of mentorship — Karen mentions how she mentors a new comic who is just starting out in stand-up comedy. This emphasizes the value of mentorship and guidance in the comedy industry. Having an experienced comedian to offer advice, share insights, and provide support can be incredibly beneficial for newcomers, helping them navigate the challenges and refine their craft.
Taking breaks for a fresh perspective — Both Karen and Craig discuss the need to step away from their creative projects at times. They mention the importance of taking breaks, going for walks, or engaging in other activities to gain a fresh perspective and avoid getting too immersed in the details. This highlights the creative process and the significance of giving oneself space and time to recharge, allowing for new ideas and perspectives to emerge.
Hedonistic adaptation ensures that I continuously cycle back and forth between, “If this isn’t nice I don’t know what is!” and rage-quitting all my self-assigned should’s. Two things help temper my intemperance: Journalling provides me with some—albeit subjective—perspective, and reading about the reality of people’s actual lives and work ethics relaxes my self-criticism.
A truer answer would have been that he was fiercely private and deeply caring. He often let other people talk, entering a conversation with a single considered sentence. He didn’t smile unless he was really pleased, and his biggest laugh was a small chuckle. His eyes would squeeze shut and his head would tip back and after he chuckled, he would look at you with delight.
Without Internet cheating, I can’t name a single one of E. L. Doctorow’s works. But I have this diffuse idea that he is (was?) A Real Writer. Someone who got things written, and maybe had a few ideas worth sharing. Darn it if reading Fairbrother’s piece didn’t tug at the ‘ol heart strings, and I might have gotten something briefly stuck in the corner of one of my eyes.
But I came away with a recalibration: I now have this diffuse idea that he was A Real Writer, got things written, had a few ideas worth sharing, and it was made possible by his family and his work ethic.
(Also, maybe help this autodidact out by hitting reply and telling me one thing of Doctorow’s I must read.)
And so we did the math, and it was really at the same time that I had lost [my idea] that she had gotten [her idea]. And we like to think that the idea jumped from my mind to hers during our little kiss that we had when we met. That’s our magical thinking around it. But it’s — there is no explanation for that other than the one that I’ve always abided by, which is that ideas are conscious and living, and they have will, and they have great desire to be made, and they spin through the cosmos, looking for human collaborators.
Obviously that’s not how any of it really works. But it is a sublime, inspiring idea! I know that if I focus (or worse, fixate) on where some idea came from it’s easy to lose the delight of the overall thing. This cosmic perspective from Gilbert reminds me to simply take things and run with them. If I can. If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.
If I can’t run with it, well, that’s okay too. It is simply okay. But, if I still need some self-convincing, that cosmic perspective gives me the comfort I need to let go.
I have a series of prompts which are a combination of quotes and small notes I’ve written for myself. I’ve mentioned this a few times in various posts tagged Reflection. As I collect them—pretty rare these days—I record them on slips in the slipbox. In 2019 I posted Daily Reminders describing what I was doing and listed the 42 prompts. Below you will find the current list of 62.
Over the years I’ve taken the time to type them into OmniFocus, the personal productivity software which I use. I carefully created individual “to-dos” for each one, with each scheduled to repeat at just the right number of days, and lined up their initial due dates. Many years later now, every day, one of them comes up digitally as a reflection prompt. While I recognize everyone of them, there are enough of them that I cannot remember which one will be next.
Practice negative thinking! Visualize everything that could go wrong and learn how to get out of negative outcome situations. In activities like climbing, it can be life saving.
It’s about climbing. But it’s also totally not just about climbing. Sometimes I find an article like this one and it just eats my life for an hour. I read it as a climber. I read it as someone who actually knows alpine climbers—not just one, but several. I read it as someone who is deeply interested in Stoicism and negative visualization [a part of Stoicism]. I spun off and found an entire new podcast that I think I want to listen to all of the episodes. *sigh* Such a delight to be swamped with such riches!
It is essential to get lost and jam up your plans every now and then. It’s a source of creativity and perspective. The danger of maps, capable assistants, and planning is that you may end up living your life as planned. If you do, your potential cannot possibly exceed your expectations.
So begins her obsession with dominating the mind by dominating the body, which would follow her throughout her life in various guises — running, karate, yoga, cycling, skiing — always ambivalent and self-conscious, until it finally resolves into a glimpse of the larger truth beneath the mechanics of illusory perfectibility: that we exert ourselves so violently on keeping the package of the body intact in order to keep it from spilling its immaterial contents — the soul, the self — into oblivion.
Ah yes, “oblivion.” Good stuff. Popova is referring to a graphic artist, and midway through the article is an exquisite cartoon example; the author drawing, figuratively and literally, a metaphor for life involving a hill and a bicycle. Reading that cartoon brought to mind my beloved practice of meditating on death. (Try this explanation.) Closely related I often call to mind the impermanence of things. Sometimes I mix the two, thinking…
This is my last sip from this [my favorite, morning coffee] mug. (Knowing it will one day be broken.)
This [regularly scheduled weekly] conversation with this person is our last one. (Imagining when priorities change and we’re no longer working together.)
This conversation I’m recording for a podcast is my last one. (Because I will die.)
This dinner with this person [my mom, my spouse, etc] is my last one. (Because one of us will die first.)
The goal is not to be morbid and depressed; The goal is to maintain a realistic perspective to enable wringing the absolute maximum enjoyment and appreciation from every single waking moment.
If we play our cards right, we could live hundreds of thousands of years more. In fact, there’s not much stopping us living millions of years. The typical species lives about a million years. Our 200,000 years so far would put us about in our adolescence, just old enough to be getting ourselves in trouble, but not wise enough to have thought through how we should act.
I find it beneficial to have my perspectives stretched. This article walks through scales of time in a delightful manner. It pauses to ask questions, and to point out people who did certain things at precise points in our history. There are countless opportunities to shift perspective. For example: I’ve been alive for 1/100 of recorded human history. And recorded history is only 3/100 of the age of our species. The aggregate progress of humanity is simply the sum of our individual efforts, and my life represents 1/100,000,000,000 of humanity so far. Stretched perspectives indeed.
The thing about really deep learning is it actually changes the structure of your brain. You are breaking an old pathway and creating a new neurological pathway. […] The three habits I’ve talked about—seeing in systems, taking multiple perspectives and asking different questions. Those are the natural habits of people who are farther along in this adult development path. If we can encourage ourselves to develop some of those patterns in ourselves, and we can be learning those things in ways that create new neural networks, then suddenly, we are living our way into these more advanced forms of development as we are just going about our daily lives.
This episode from Shane Parrish’s, The Knowledge Project, podcast is excellent. About two-thirds of the way through the 90 minutes, they start going really deep into mental habits including specifics of how to change one’s mindset. The title of the episode could well be expanded to, …of Effective People.
I’ve been asked how it is that I do what I do, in podcast conversations. Here Berger and Parrish have explained it; Frankly, I better understand how I do it, now having listened to Berger. These three habits she points out are the magic that I use to power my conversations. I’ve always had the habit—my parents would say, “to a fault”—of asking good questions. About 35 years ago, when I became immersed in engineering, physics, computers, and the Internet I perfected the habit—here I would say, “to a fault”—of thinking in systems. And 10 years ago, as I began my journey rediscovering my personal movement, I realized the magnificent knowledge and experience available to me through others’ perspectives.
Burnout research shows that cynicism is an easy way out when we don’t have the mental resources to cope. It’s no surprise that cynicism is a core attribute of the burnout equation: during a time of ongoing stress it’s much easier to be pessimistic than it is to mobilize and make a difference.
That short blog post is about news-from-the-Internet and the pandemic, but it’s perfectly applicable to any source of chronic stress. For me, the chronic stress is entirely self-inflicted and the cautions remain the same.
I’ve gotten relief from myself over the years through journaling and blogging. Journalling gives me some perspective. (But it is difficult to do it well, since it can degenerate into subjectivity, navel gazing, or whining.) Blogging gives me the chance to regularly work with the garage door up; showing my work by exposing my thinking. Even if mostly no one calls me on anything, knowing that people are looking calls me to a higher quality of thinking.
Yesterday and today I’ve been thinking about taking another look at cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT). A couple years ago I made a pass at understanding it—specifically wondering if one could “do it” to oneself. (Yes.) I’ve dusted off a small volume for a re-read to see what I can tune in my existing self-care routines, and hopefully find some new ones to settle into for a while.
There was, or will be, a last time for everything you do, from climbing a tree to changing a diaper, and living with a practiced awareness of that fact can make even the most routine day feel like it’s bursting with blessings. Of all the lasting takeaways from my periodic dives into Stoicism, this is the one that has enhanced my life the most.
This is by far the most important thing I’ve learned in my several decades. I’ve written about this previously, try my “perspective” tag for some tastes, but this item bears endless repeating. Do it as if it is the last time. Think of it, in the moment, as if it is the last time. And for a bonus multiplier—but don’t do this too often or you get disappointed too—think about that thing you’re about to do, the same way. Tomorrow, when I ____ , that will be the last time I get to _____ .