Because it’s elitist, an initiation into arcana. Because it’s nostalgic, rowing being a skill not much in demand in the industrial world. Because it’s fragile: The boat club is run on a shoestring, and the beat-up old boats held together by spit. Because it’s dangerous, and exercises the wits against the wind and the water. Because it’s a ritual. Because it’s redemption.
Where is the space where you hang out with other people doing whatever it is you do? I’ve mentioned this idea before, for example, Setting and scene. This is something I come back to often because it is really important to me.
And by “space” I mean a physical space, like the proverbial 19th century café with writers talking and drinking coffee. Third places are clear candidates for our scene.
What about virtual third places? All of us know each other virtually, including through various video calls over the years. But a virtual space has to be very special to be a true “scene.” In fact, I’m not sure just how special, and I’m not sure what exactly the features it needs to have…
That’s what I’m thinking about this morning:
What are the special feature of a virtual space that make it into a scene?
Here’s a few I’ve come up with so far…
People :) obviously. We need to know others are there (I see “likes” or a head-count in the video call).
Engagement. We (me, you, the person seeking the scene) need to soak up energy from other people. Yes, even introverts need at least a little bit of interaction, particular in the realm of one’s creative endeavor.
Questions. Questions don’t have to be about getting an answer! “Revealing your questions in such a way points to the shape of the knowledge you are seeking.”
Mistakes. …not sure about this one. “Mistakes” isn’t quite the right word. I’m trying to point at the idea that seeing other people attempt things, and not succeed, shows that the scene is a space safe for experimentation and challenging ourselves.
Silence is the absolute poise or balance of body, mind, and spirit. The man who preserves his selfhood ever calm and unshaken by the storms of existence—not a leaf, as it were, astir on the tree; Not a ripple upon the surface of shining pool—his, in the mind of the unlettered sage, is the ideal attitude and conduct of life.
…and then it goes on, CAPSLOCKed, for several paragraphs. The only thing better than math-nerds, is when a math-nerd who is also a reason-nerd stomps on the vanilla-variety math-nerds. This stuff? This stuff makes the world a better place.
Songs arise out of suffering, by which I mean they are predicated upon the complex, internal human struggle of creation and, well, as far as I know, algorithms don’t feel. Data doesn’t suffer. ChatGPT has no inner being, it has been nowhere, it has endured nothing, it has not had the audacity to reach beyond its limitations, and hence it doesn’t have the capacity for a shared transcendent experience, as it has no limitations from which to transcend.
Sometimes I read things which are so clear, and right, that I nearly weep on my keyboard. (Yes, oldster, keyboard.) And then… I realize, enduring, suffering, audacity to reach beyond limitations— hey, that’s me! And then, still weeping, but I’m doing it right!
Man’s unhappiness, as I construe, comes of his greatness; It is because there is an infinite in him, which with all his cunning he cannot quite bury under the Finite.
So let’s go on a journey in which I will examine the validity of six common claims we hear about homelessness and the solution to our homelessness crisis: housing, housing, and more housing.