Brandee Laird | On Self-Altruism, Parkour, and Being Useful

On Castbox.fm — Brandee Laird | On Self-Altruism, Parkour, and Being Useful

How can the Parkour community cultivate and apply altruism in meaningful and practical ways beyond the physical discipline?

Altruism in Parkour is re-examined as a willingness to make someone else’s problem your own.

The first place, and the most important place, it comes out in my daily life is a willingness. It’s a willingness to make someone else’s problem, my problem. And that to me is what altruism is. It’s making other people’s problems, my problem.

~ Brandee Laird (3:06)

The conversation explores the evolving understanding of altruism within the Parkour community. Emphasis is placed on the idea that altruism involves making someone else’s problem your own, extending the principle of “be strong to be useful” into daily life. This involves recognizing and acting on opportunities to help others, even in seemingly mundane scenarios.

Topics covered include empathy, the role of fear in preventing action, and how values like honesty and awareness can drive altruistic behavior. The Parkour community’s approach to litter and environmental responsibility serves as an example of how physical practice can intersect with social contribution. There is also discussion about expanding leadership and instilling a broader sense of responsibility in younger practitioners.

Takeaways

Altruism in Parkour — Making others’ problems your own is central to practicing altruism in daily life.

Empathy and Action — Empathy alone is not enough; the will to act must follow recognition of need.

Leadership Development — The Parkour community is focusing more on creating leaders and fostering values-driven growth.

Leave No Trace — Environmental responsibility is integrated into Parkour events and training.

Expanding Usefulness — Parkour skills can translate into broader life contributions through awareness and presence.

Resources

Brandee Laird @monkeemoves

Art of Retreat — The leadership and education retreat where the conversation took place.

(Written with help from Chat-GPT.)

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Motivation versus validation

A great number of bits are dedicated to discussing motivation. In particular, it’s well-covered that my motivation should spring from within. I should do whatever-it-is because I value the work or the self-transformation. Far too many people are externally motivated and so those bits are well-deployed.

But validation? I don’t hear about that so much.

Engineering, (think bridges and airplanes,) we all agree should be validated. Implicitly we know that means externally validated. We know that engineering done in a filter-bubble is not truly validated, and that ends badly.

But eveyone seems to toss the baby with the bath water: “I’m not doing engineering or hard science, therefore, as a principle, I don’t need external validation.“

But, that’s right only as a corrective term in our lives. “Holy shit our society is too externally motivated, so let’s stop with the external motivation.” Yes, please.

But once you figure out how to do your work from a place of kindness and internal motivation, you next need to put it out there. Put a price tag on it… Ask for feedback… Does the book sell… Do the people who follow your advice go on to do nicer or better things… In short, are you efficacious?

Yes yes yes art for arts’ sake is not what I’m talking about. Paint just for yourself and die an undiscovered master—that’s internal motivation for the win. (not sarcasm)

But if, you know, what you’re doing is supposed to be True, (however that’s defined for whatever it is you’re doing,) then you better put yourself out there and get some external validation. Yes, you’re going to need thick skin, and certainly don’t go alone, but go you must.

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Slight interest with a dash of surprise

There’s a special kind of slightly-surprised magic which you can reliably determine has occurred when someone makes the sound, hunh.

My grandmother was a sought-after seamstress who handmade custom draperies. Think custom home decor and hotel lobbies. As her eyesight diminished year-by-year, she eventually asked my dad to add a small attachment to her sewing machine: a clever little mechanism that is able to pull the thread through the eye of the sewing needle. Yes, there really is such a thing. It’s a brilliant little device. It works like magic and is strikingly-obvious once you see it in action. She hands my dad a few German-made sewing-machine parts; tiny little parts… a single tiny screw, a little doomathingus, and this third whatchamacallit. There are no instructions though. So my dad—an accomplished mechanic by trade—puts on his glasses and sits down with her Pfaff sewing machine, thinking, “how hard can it be to add these two parts to this sewing machine using this one screw?” I don’t know how long he actually spent trying. That detail was always suspiciously omitted whenever he told this story.

Eventually he gives up in failure and lugs the machine to the Pfaff sewing machine dealer. The dealer is old-school—located in a 100-year-old sewing mill building, with a little front-shop and with the real workshop in the back. My dad sets the machine and parts on the counter. This story is set in the 80’s, and although it was never mentioned in the telling of the story, I’m assuming the machine came from that shop 30 years earlier. I’d also bet that my grandmother called them [on her rotary phone] to order the clever little needle-threading-thingy from there too.

So the scene is set: One wizened, male mechanic with a sewing machine and some parts. Another wizened, male mechanic jaded by a century of stoopid sewing machine problems and questions.

“Hello, how can I help you?”

“I can’t get this attachment to… well… attach.”

“It’s easy. You just use that screw to attach that thingus and that whatsit to the arm right there where the sewing needle…”

“No, sorry, it’s not actually possible.”

It’s a classic show-down. In fact, you know it well. You’ve had this show-down yourself at the auto mechanic, in the grocery store, or on the phone with your Internet tech support.

The shop owner looks at my dad like he’s an imbecile and with a flicker of an eye-roll, starts to pick up the machine and the parts to go in the back…

“…wait! No don’t take it in the back. Let me see you do it.”

At this point it’s still a battle: My dad with a problem, and the sewing machine guy not truly interested in helping. The guy grudgingly gets his glasses and starts. …and the little whatsit falls out. …the little screw won’t quite stay in. Maybe if he moves his light this way, and tries reaching in from the other side… nope. Another try. …and a fourth try.

And then, “hunh.”

“…ok, now you can take it in the back.”

The moral is that any time you have a problem, and you have someone whose help you want, there is before-the-hunh and after-the-hunh. No one will truly help you—no one will truly own your problem—before they say, “hunh.”

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Slight surprise with a dash of interest

There are, I think, several reasons Hollywood movies often don’t get as much science input as they should. The first is that movie-makers usually just aren’t sensitive to the “science texture” of their movies. They can tell if things are out of whack at a human level, but they typically can’t tell if something is scientifically off. Sometimes they’ll get as far as calling a local university for help, but too often they’re sent to a hyper-specialized academic who’ll not-very-usefully tell them their whole story is wrong. Of course, to be fair, science content usually doesn’t make or break movies. But I think having good science content—like, say, good set design—can help elevate a good movie to greatness.

~ Stephen Wolfram, from Quick, How Might the Alien Spacecraft Work?

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But first, how exactly does one represent in written from, that sound one makes upon encountering something both slightly surprising and interesting? “Huh,” seems more like the sound one makes upon hearing something about which one is incredulous. For example: “Your Goldfish is escaping on foot!” “Huh?” Instead, I feel I need a word with a little touch of an ‘n’ in it to downplay the puzzlement by making the word less punchy; “That spaceship hangs in the air much in the way bricks don’t.” “Hunh.” That reads better, yes? Obviously, this is easily resolved via inflection when spoken, but there’s no clear written convention. So, okay, I’ll go with “hunh” to express slight surprise with a dash of interest.

hunh. I stumbled over the movie Arrival in Netflix back in 2018, and sort of enjoyed it.

Say what you will about Stephen Wolfram. I’m not referring to the fact that he was directly involved as being a point for, or against, the movie. Rather, I’m interested in his point—which I’m loosely reshaping here—that people who have a good feel for people make good movies about people. Given that the vast majority of people are bad at science, then most people who make movies would make bad movies about science.

Ironically, I’d argue that Arrival is a good science fiction movie, but not a good movie about people.

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Muir Woods


And yet

And yet. The indescribable reward of taking a bunch of ink on paper from the shelf at Chappell of Bond Street. Tubing it home, setting the score, pencil, coffee and ashtray on the piano and emerging a few days, weeks or months later able to perform something that some mad, genius, lunatic of a composer 300 years ago heard in his head while out of his mind with grief or love or syphilis.

~ James Rhodes from, “Find What You Love and Let It Kill You”

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Know what I love most about having my own blog? Being able to pull-quote really random-ass stuff like this just because I liked it.

And yet I don’t play the piano. Never played as a kid, but did mess around with it—including having a real piano teacher—around 30, got to advanced beginner and then ran out of time to practice when I finally had a house that would actually have been the first time I had room for a real piano. Sorry, I digress.

And yet for some random-ass reason I completely feel as if I understand what this apparently bat-shit crazy concert pianist is talking about. …maybe it’s the parallel of piano keys and computer keyboard keys? …maybe it’s the parallel of pouring countless hours—I paused here and started actually trying to estimate how many hours, straight-up paniced at how large the number was getting to be and decided to just move along—into tapping away at computers creating something that was, is and always will be, “just” good enough? Seriously I am not an artist. I certainly don’t think of myself as an artist. I always felt like an engineer sorting out, and building, systems of various forms.

And yet

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Stoicism, with a capital ‘S’

Ancient Stoics were all about living in the moment, a goal achieved by cultivating self-control and self-awareness through meditative practices, though not necessarily of the om-chanting variety. They “thought about thinking” by considering their emotions from a rational perspective, reflecting on the ethics of their decisions, and constantly reminding themselves that while they had no power over what happened in life, they did have power over their responses to it. 

~ Chiara Sulprizio from, Why Stoicism Is Having a Cultural Moment

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“Ancient Stoics,” as in, people who lived in antiquity who were Stoics. Stoicism is ancient, in the sense that it predates the modern religions, (that is, all those you can name.) But it’s distinctly modern in the sense that it’s prefectly suited to today.

If you take one thing from this little missive of mine, let it be that being “stoic” in the common English usage, (stoic: n., one who is seemingly indifferent to or unaffected by joy, grief, pleasure, or pain,) has nothing to do with Stoicism, as a philosophy. And a great one for your daily life at that.

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Been there. Done that.

Which I guess is what the paradox resolves into: a devaluing of superficial pleasures and a greater appreciation for simple, authentic ones. I don’t really enjoy the presents at Christmas anymore, the fireworks at Fourth of July, or even the parties on New Year’s Eve. I’ve seen bigger parties, been to more beautiful places, and already own everything I’ll ever want in this life. But unlike before, I appreciate every day spent with those who mean a lot to me. A quiet beer on a patio. Watching a basketball game together. Going to a birthday party or a barbecue. These are the events I look forward to now and get excited about, days and weeks ahead of time… And that’s probably the way it should be.

~ Mark Manson from, The Simple Joys Are the Most Meaningful

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I really have seen bigger parties, been to more beautiful places, and already own everything I’ll ever want in this life.

The comparison I’m making is not with you. The sentence above does not contain the phrase, “than you have.”

The comparison I am making is to this moment… to this experience. There’s a reason I choose to share this moment with you. Not this exact moment as you’re reading; we’re not sharing this moment as you’re reading. I’m taking about moments in real life that we experience together, if any. There’s a reason I’m choosing to experience those moments.

Enough about me. How do you choose— …actually, wait…

Do you choose how to spend your moments?

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Tyson Cecka | NERDYmade

On Castbox.fm — Tyson Cecka | NERDYmade

How can the design and construction of Parkour obstacles and spaces influence training, creativity, and safety?

Designing Parkour spaces involves balancing permanence with adaptability to maximize creative potential and safety.

[… What] makes it really tricky with Parkour obstacles is that we adapt to the spaces that we’re in. We adapt really well to the spaces that we’re in. And so you don’t necessarily know what’s missing, or what might change when that space changes or improves in some way. I feel that you really need to continually challenge yourself in coming up with new ideas or trying out new things. Because you will be extremely surprised sometimes by how much potential that offers up.

~ Tyson Cecka (11:10)

The conversation explores the intricate process of designing and building Parkour obstacles and spaces, emphasizing the role of adaptability, safety, and creativity. There is a focus on how portable obstacles can evolve over time, providing a dynamic and ever-changing training environment. This contrasts with permanent structures that, while durable, may limit creative exploration once their design becomes familiar.

A key point of discussion is the importance of fastening and securing materials like plywood to ensure the structural integrity of obstacles. Tyson highlights how beginners often overlook these details, leading to potential failures or unstable equipment. The dialogue also touches on the value of fostering a community of builders who can share experiences, troubleshoot problems, and inspire new designs through collaborative learning.

Takeaways

Portable obstacles — Enable evolving and adaptable training environments that keep athletes engaged.

Plywood fastening — Essential for ensuring the stability and longevity of Parkour structures, often overlooked by beginners.

Community collaboration — A supportive builder community accelerates learning and design innovation.

Dynamic design — Spaces that shift and change encourage creativity and long-term engagement.

Beginner considerations — Well-built, stable obstacles enhance confidence and facilitate smoother progression for newcomers.

Resources

Tyson Cecka’s @tysoncecka

Sturdy Made (Facebook Group) — Online community for Parkour builders to share ideas, projects, and plans.

Art of Retreat — Annual Parkour leadership and education event where the conversation took place.

(Written with help from Chat-GPT.)

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There is no trick

Stop searching for magic tricks. Roll up your sleeves and get to work. The fool will find this idea depressing. The wise person will find this liberating. So it goes.

~ Hugh Macleod

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No.

But I do still agree with Hugh.

You see, it’s really a paradox: Understanding that the trick is that there is no trick enables you to see the trick.

Only after you truly believe there is no trick, and you truly roll up your sleeves and get to work—and not just work for a day or a week or a year, but instead truly pour your entire self into something…

Only after you truly believe there is no trick, and you truly roll up your sleeves and get to work, can you understand what the trick really is.

Reading this now, you either know the trick—congratulations, honestly and I’m sorry you had to suffer along the way but look what you’ve learned…

Reading this now, you either know the trick, or you need to roll up your sleeves and get to work.

What? …you thought I was going to tell you the trick? But, I just did.

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