It’s a good day, any time I can find an excuse to link to A List Apart. This piece doesn’t need an excuse to be linked. Nearly every sentence in it starts with “I am a creative…” and makes it read like some sort of manifesto… or the beginning of a communal incantation at some Creatives Anonymous meeting in a church basement.
I am still 10 times faster than people who are not creative, or people who have only been creative a short while, or people who have only been professionally creative a short while. It’s just that, before I work 10 times as fast as they do, I spend twice as long as they do putting the work off. I am that confident in my ability to do a great job when I put my mind to it. I am that addicted to the adrenaline rush of postponement. I am still that afraid of the jump.
That quoted bit isn’t better than several other bits. Rather, I wanted to point to that “addicted to the adrenaline rush of postponement” to say that verily (be sure to read the example use of verily related to aviation) this used to be me. These days I’m addicted to the adrenaline rush of postponing… and then entirely abandoning whatever it was. Also, I am still afraid of the jump.
A small platform—like a family restaurant, or an indie bookstore—can be run by a small group of passionate people. Possibly, it can even be run by one person. Things are too big, when they get big enough that everything needs to be normalized (specified, rules based, flow charted, committee decided and charted.)
The future of the internet that most excites me is also, in many ways, a snapshot of its past. It’s a place where the Neil Gaiman’s of the world don’t need to feed their thoughts into an engagement engine, but can instead put out a virtual shingle on their own small patch of cyberspace and attract and build a more intimate community of like-minded travelers. This doesn’t necessitate a blog — podcasts, newsletters, and video series have emerged as equally engaging mediums for independent media production. The key is a communication landscape that is much more diverse and distributed and interesting than what we see when everyone is using the same two or three social apps.
It comes down to engagement versus contribution. A large platform is one where engagement is rewarded (time spent on the platform, ads viewed, affiliate links followed, likes given, etc.) and a small platform is one where contribution is rewarded. What makes small platforms and spaces potentially great is that everyone’s contribution can be seen. “I see what you did there,” is both how culture is created and how cultural norms are enforced.
Giles D’Souza shares his journey from navigating the bustling streets of Mumbai to finding tranquility in movement, as he and Craig Constantine unravel the essence of living fully in the moment amidst the chaos of modern life.
You can take this time for yourself. You can take this time for your clients— take this time for this— and anything above that is it’s fine. Just let it go.
~ Giles D’Souza, 3:15
Giles D’Souza and Craig Constantine navigate the relationships between work, personal growth, and the concept of living fully in the moment. Giles shares his transformative experience of returning from a long journey overseas, which provided him with a fresh perspective on balancing work and personal life. He emphasizes the direct correlation between work and income, especially as a self-employed individual, and how stepping away allowed him to reassess and prioritize his time and activities upon returning. This segment of the discussion highlights the importance of finding equilibrium between professional commitments and personal well-being, suggesting that a deliberate pause can lead to a more fulfilling and intentional way of living.
The conversation also gets into the philosophical, exploring concepts of consciousness, the significance of the present moment, and the universal human experience of navigating life’s fleeting nature. Giles reflects on the practice of mindfulness and the art of letting go, sharing personal anecdotes that underscore the power of focusing on the present to alleviate the burdens of past grievances and future anxieties. This part of the conversation considers the impact of external environments on well-being, with Giles discussing the challenges of living in Mumbai, a city with significant pollution, and how it has influenced his desire for a life closer to nature. Through these discussions, the conversation weaves together themes of personal development, environmental awareness, and the pursuit of simplicity and clarity in a complex world.
Takeaways
The importance of balance — discussing the challenge of managing work and personal life, especially when self-employed, and the value of taking breaks to reassess one’s priorities.
The power of mindfulness — exploring how being present and letting go of past and future worries can significantly improve mental well-being and perspective on life.
Environmental impact on lifestyle — sharing personal experiences of how living in a polluted city can influence one’s health and happiness, and the longing for a life closer to nature.
The significance of the present moment — emphasizing that every second is precious and should be lived fully, whether it’s through work, leisure, or simply being.
The transformative effect of travel — reflecting on how travel can expand one’s perspective, not by ticking off checklist items but by deeply experiencing and immersing oneself in different cultures and environments.
The philosophical exploration of consciousness — delving into the nature of consciousness, the miracle of waking life, and the profound impact of considering our place in the universe.
The aspiration for a sustainable and peaceful living environment — dreaming of a life in the mountains, self-sufficient and in harmony with nature, highlighting the desire for simplicity and tranquility away from urban chaos.
In the blink of an eye, something happens by chance—when you least expect it—sets you on a course that you never planned, into a future you never imagined.
Clear cut and plant. Clear cut and plant. I’m not sure, but this doesn’t feel like a great idea. I started reading this article thinking it wasn’t going to be that interesting. I was wrong. I’ve moved through forest where there are no trails: doing boundary monitoring and corridor maintenance for the Appalachian Trail Council, and bush–whacking towards rock climbing. It’s type-2 fun. But reading about what these super-humans do to move through clear-cut “blocks”… *shudders* that’s definitely type-3 fun.
Up in the sparsely populated wildernesses of the north, meanwhile, logging companies work 24/7 to fell trees for lumber, leaving behind ‘cut blocks’ – bleak fields of stumps, mulch, roots and detritus covering thousands of hectares. Following in their wake come hordes of seasonal tree planters, who drive for miles up dangerous roads to enter these remote areas. Staying in basic bush camps, off the grid and armed only with shovels and bags of saplings, they set about creating new forests from scratch.
“Fun” comes in 3 types: Type-1 fun is fun in the moment. Type-2 fun isn’t fun now, but we’re really going to enjoy this once we get past this sucky part, even more so as soon as we’re done, and especially years from now when we retell this story. Type-3 fun isn’t fun now, mistakes have been made, life choices need reconsidering and this is actually going to be a cautionary tale when retold.
I can go for walks with others, with music, or with podcasts, and those things usually crowd out my frenzied thoughts and internal monolog. But it’s much better when I manage to leave enough space for my thoughts to settle. Wrestling with my own thinking just gets us both of us riled up.
This practice teaches you that you don’t need to address every instance of mental talk you have. In fact, your thoughts will never leave you alone if you try to resolve every train of thought that arises. Instead, you can just enjoy the world as it reveals itself before you.
Simply put, all of my problems stem from trying to jam too much into each day. Partly that’s from my having too many ideas. But mostly that’s from insufficient self-awareness to let things go. Over a few decades I’ve steered away from the typical schedule (and it was never anything like a 9-to-5 job.) But I’m still on a strict sleep schedule, with strict light hygiene practices, and no alarm clock. I sleep in utter darkness, and I awake as the room lighting slowly comes up to full brightness—a mimicked sunrise. But I’m still clinging to set times.
Sometimes I break routine by staying out, or up, past my usual bedtime. Sometimes I’m traveling and staying with others. In either case, I don’t seem to have trouble bending my sleep schedule. I’m often the first person to “crash”, but other than that, with a bit of balance-the-total-sleep-time over-sleeping… I feel pretty normal the next day.
All humans, animals, insects and birds have clocks inside, biological devices controlled by genes, proteins and molecular cascades. These inner clocks are connected to the ceaseless yet varying cycle of light and dark caused by the rotation and tilt of our planet. They drive primal physiological, neural and behavioural systems according to a roughly 24-hour cycle, otherwise known as our circadian rhythm, affecting our moods, desires, appetites, sleep patterns, and sense of the passage of time.
Except for how much I can get done. On those “next days” where I’ve been off my rigid sleep times. I get vastly less done, and not just because there are fewer hours in the day when I sleep longer in the morning. In fact, the more I glimpse that other world—went to bed whenever, slept until the right amount of time… and then face a less-productive day. The more I realize, that is the better amount of things to attempt to accomplish: Sleep on a healthy, light-driven cycle, and do half as much in the day.
The Whole Earth Catalog. Now there’s someone who poured their time, energy, money and personal brand of sanity into a project, and it succeeded. Then the Internet came along and supplanted the entire project.
Yet for years, access to the Whole Earth Catalog itself has been difficult. 55 years on from the first publication of the Catalog, it mostly lives on in the interstices — as a symbol of a vibrant countercultural history and an inspiration for writers, designers, and technologists, but less so as an actual set of catalogs that you can read. The Catalog is not lost media per se — copies can be found in libraries, archives, and personal collections across the world — but accessing its trove of information is no longer as easy as it was in its heyday.
…and then, that original project rose from the ashes to be something even better.
Sometimes, I find something that warms my dark, frozen, disenchanted, bitter, burnt-out heart. I don’t subscribe to notions like “information wants to be free” but when I see things like this… well, I get a little warm–fuzzy inside.
There’re countless decisions one makes and simply put, the smallest decisions are just as important as the biggest ones. Few are biggest. Innumerable are the smallest. Plus, there’s huge variation in the amount of time I have to consider—or to over-think as the case may be—each choice. Some say choose sooner; Some say delay choosing. Even when we choose to not decide, that’s still a choice.
Every event has two handles, Epictetus said: “one by which it can be carried, and one by which it can’t. If your brother does you wrong, don’t grab it by his wronging, because this is the handle incapable of lifting it. Instead, use the other—that he is your brother, that you were raised together, and then you will have hold of the handle that carries.” Another way to say that is that there are multiple ways to look at every situation, multiple ways to determine how you’re going to react. Some of them are sturdy and some of them are not. Some are kind and resilient, some are not. Which will you choose? Which handle will you grab?
There are a handful of small but mighty ideas that have the ability to often get me off the floor, or out of bed, when all seems pointless. This particular one works quite often. Pick that article apart. Keep what you find useful. Discard the rest.
I’ve described a problem as being the ability to explain the current state (of something, anything you care to imagine) and a desired state. The problem is that those states are different. Unfortunately, the word “problem” comes packed with negative connotation. That’s not what I’m suggesting here. The “problem(s)” I’m talking about are anything you desire to change.
A critical feature of intelligence is the ability to describe those two states; that’s literally how you do all the intentional things that you do. Current state, desired state… and then working to get from the current state to the desire state is being a problem solver.
In his book, Principles, Ray Dalio describes leadership as something very similar: having the ability to a) visualize a future state be it physical, spiritual, emotional, or all three and b) find the people and the resources needed to make it happen.
Any time anything makes me think, I label it “good”. This is a good little article from Martin.
But Dalio’s description in the quoted bit above—I’ve not read the book, perhaps this gets covered therein—skips over the actual hard part. It’s giving a nice step 1, then step 3 map. When one tries to solve a problem (“problem” as I described above) which involves other people, there is also a step 2: Getting other people to understand you. And you’ve probably noticed that turns out to be really difficult.
The only thing better than well-thought-out articles, with a nice water–color image, that refer to a good book, that tie together some thoughts I was already having, published on the open web making the Internet a better place? When it’s written by someone I know personally. Here, have this…
The good news is that, according to Csikszentmihalyi, it is totally in my power to maintain flow, or at least maximize the amount of time spent in the flow state. After all, the attention split between the conflicting objectives happens entirely in my head. The trick, for the lack of a better word, is to convince myself to take interest in what needs to be done and to apply mental energy in order to increase the complexity of the activity at hand.
For me, that attention split—my perception that there actually exist conflicting objectives—is the source of struggle. When I simply don’t invent the need for anything I enjoy doing to be a successful business… Boop. It’s all pleasant creation, heavy lifting and flow state.
In the beginning of this, the most recent, incarnation of my web site (like the Doctor, I myself am not certain what number I’m actually on) I purposely chose not to pre-imagine a taxonomy of tags. I learned that lesson the hard way. For a while, I willy-nilly tagged with reckless abandon. Later, I tried to get clever and always use a tag for any person, place or thing that applied. There are quite a few place tags today. There are a lot more tags for people. There’s an untold number of tags for things, ideas, threads and through-lines. Today, there are a lot of tags (in fact, 2,066 tags—go ahead, I dare you.)
Any system with an upfront access cost this high is just asking to break. This alone, in my opinion, makes tags not worth using.
I was delighted when I found this article (is venticle a word? venting + article? it should be) from Forte which lays out very clearly—with some humor—just what it is that makes tags hella suck.
Yet, I’m still clinging to tagging People. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I also have specific tags (eg, podcasting, meta, intermittent fasting) which I use when I want to link to a specific idea. When someone asks me a question, which I think would be well-answered with a link to a collection of blog posts… I head to the site, do some searching, do some reading, and shine up that tag. Then I share it.
If you resisted my dare above to look at 2,066 tags, I double-dog dare you to look at the page of all the Interesting Tags. It’s much shorter, but not short.
I’m fond of saying that the first 90 percent of something is vastly easier than the second 90 percent. There’s so much wisdom packed into that, and it’s funny—if you know how to tell a joke. Gee Willikers! I’m almost done! When in fact, I’ve only just scratched the surface.
In practice, this means you need to limit distractions to the full extent possible. Pull quotes, so effective near the top of an article, become a nuisance further down; many readers will find themselves unconsciously drawn to them, even when they want to focus on the text. Attention to the basic typographic details, line length, a readable typeface, the right balance between font size and line height, appropriate contrast between the text and background, can make the difference between a reader who makes it to the end of the article versus one who tires and gives up.
I can say, without exaggeration, that I’ve tortured myself over every single tiny detail of what you are looking at. That includes the fact that 7 for Sunday looks slightly different in email. (It looks great in email; but what you see isn’t quite as controllable as a web site.) It would probably be good enough if I hadn’t tortured myself about the details, even though I think craftsmanship matters.
Jeremy Fein, a coach who embraces the power of conversation, joins Craig to talk about the complexities of podcasting and coaching, revealing his journey from creating a successful podcast to purposefully pausing it to refocus.
[Coaching sessions are] much better when they’re not recorded, right? They’re better for the client, which is what matters. And so podcasting felt like a way that I could maybe bridge a gap between the actual work that I do, and— let’s call it content creation. You go to write a caption on Instagram, and it’s just so divorced from the work that I’m doing on a regular basis with clients. That’s why I started [the podcast].
~ Jeremy Fein, 4:28
Jeremy Fein discusses his experiences with podcasting and coaching. He reflects on why he started his podcast, “Nothing Makes Perfect,” acknowledging the abundance of podcasts and his desire to create something meaningful rather than just adding to the noise. Jeremy also delves into his decision to pause his podcast after 25 episodes, a choice driven by a need to reassess and focus on aspects of the podcast he enjoyed and could amplify.
He also talks about the intrinsic connection between his identity and coaching, emphasizing how coaching has become an integral part of who he is. Jeremy’s approach to coaching is deeply rooted in conversation, listening, and idea exploration, rather than traditional fitness instruction. This approach underscores his commitment to personalization in coaching, catering to individual client needs while maintaining a structured yet flexible coaching framework.
Takeaways
Starting a podcast with awareness — discusses the over-saturation of podcasts and the importance of adding value rather than just contributing to the noise.
Pausing a successful podcast — reflects on the decision to take a break, focusing on reassessment and personal growth.
Personal identity and coaching — highlights how coaching has become a part of the speaker’s identity, shaping both professional and personal life.
Adapting to clients’ needs in coaching — emphasizes the importance of personalization in coaching, catering to individual client needs.
Content creation in the digital age — explores the challenges of creating authentic content that resonates with the audience and the creator’s values.
Resources
@jeremyfein Jeremy Fein on Instagram. Message him there for conversations or inquiries about his coaching or podcasting experiences.
Fein Movement Jeremy’s web site with coaching information and additional ways to reach him.
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?
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.
The polis or gathering place for governing, the root of our modern politics, was nothing but a physical space that designated and enabled the conversational space required for true self-governing. The capacity for talking together constituted the foundation for democracy, far more fundamental than voting. As one ancient Greek philosopher noted, “When voting started, democracy ended.”
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?