In college (which was before the Internet was readily accessible; before the Web was invented) was when I first encountered true information and opportunity overload. In hindsight, there really should have been a class about how that’s a real thing, and ways that one should embrace it. Not fight it. Not try to control it… but ways to embrace it.
The tradition of the commonplace book contains a central tension between order and chaos, between the desire for methodical arrangement, and the desire for surprising new links of association. The historian Robert Darnton describes this tangled mix of writing and reading […]
The point that it’s the tension that feels uncomfortable is the key that unlocked for me. Yes, there’s tension from all the complexity and voluminous information. That’s a feature to be used and leveraged, not a problem to be resolved.
Are you heading toward what you already understand or toward your unknown?
In a conversation exploring the depths of dialogue and presence, Craig and Jesse get into the intriguing parallels between Quaker meetings and Gurdjieff groups, revealing how these practices foster a deeply present state of mind, akin to a slow, thoughtful game of chess.
I Think that there’s a beautiful edge of curiosity here, around looking at the unknown, which is the utter willingness to show up, like dumbfounded, or stupid.
~ Jesse Danger (12:59)
[…] leaning into the asking-as-a-five-year-old, or asking-for-a-friend-meme. I also think [our] challenge needs to contain, letting go of the urge to control the result. [When] asking as a five-year-old, I’m not hiding from the possibility that people are going to respond, “that’s stupid, Craig.” I’m not hiding from that. I’m asking as a five year old because it challenges me to ask the simplest question.
~ Craig (13:41)
In the conversation, Craig and Jesse dig into the intricacies of meaningful dialogue, emphasizing the value of approaching conversations without an agenda or purpose. They discuss the concept of dialogue as proposed by David Bohm in his book “On Dialogue”, emphasizing the importance of creating a space free from authority or hierarchy. This concept aligns with Jesse’s experiences in Gurdjieff groups and Quaker meetings, where a deeply present state of mind is cultivated, devoid of ego and personal agendas.
The dialogue further explores the idea of conversations being like a slow, thoughtful game of chess, requiring patience, presence, and a willingness to engage with the unknown. They discuss the challenge of asking questions with the innocence of a child, free from the fear of appearing ignorant or the need to control the conversation’s outcome. This approach, they argue, opens up new possibilities for exploration and understanding in conversations, whether in structured groups like the Gurdjieff or Quaker meetings or in everyday interactions.
Resources
David Bohm’s book, On Dialogue — Craig references this book as an inspiration for their discussion on dialogue. David Bohm, a renowned physicist and philosopher, explores the concept of dialogue as a free-flowing and agenda-less conversation that isn’t bound by authority or hierarchy, emphasizing its potential for creative and transformative understanding.
Gurdjieff groups — Jesse mentions participating in Gurdjieff groups, which are based on the teachings of George Ivanovich Gurdjieff, a mystic and spiritual teacher. These groups focus on self-awareness and deep presence, aligning with the Quaker meetings’ approach to deep, mindful engagement.
Quaker Meetings — Both Jesse and Craig discuss the Quaker meetings’ influence on their views of presence and dialogue. Quaker meetings, known for their simplicity and emphasis on inner guidance, involve participants speaking from a deeply present and relevant place, akin to a form of spiritual expression.
I truly don’t mind the cold; I enjoy snow and blustery winds and cozy fires and hot cocoa. Arguably, I suffer much more in unusually hot weather than I do in unusually cold weather. But even I have a limit.
The man felt like a speck in the frozen nothingness. Every direction he turned, he could see ice stretching to the edge of the Earth: white ice and blue ice, glacial-ice tongues and ice wedges. There were no living creatures in sight. Not a bear or even a bird. Nothing but him.
I often remind myself that there’s nothing new under the sun. Of course, that’s not actually true, but it reminds me to temper my insanity. Enthusiasm is wonderful fuel for getting things done, but I’m too often sprinting up in the insanity range, rather than gleefully skipping along in the enthusiastic range. I digress.
Xanadu, the ultimate hypertext information system, began as Ted Nelson’s quest for personal liberation. The inventor’s hummingbird mind and his inability to keep track of anything left him relatively helpless. He wanted to be a writer and a filmmaker, but he needed a way to avoid getting lost in the frantic multiplication of associations his brain produced. His great inspiration was to imagine a computer program that could keep track of all the divergent paths of his thinking and writing. To this concept of branching, nonlinear writing, Nelson gave the name hypertext.
I’ve spent a lot of time learning about, and tinkering with, personal knowledge systems. To my embarrassment, I don’t actually recall ever learning about Xanadu. I vaguely knew that the “hypertext” of the HyperText Transfer Protocol—the HT in the HTTP and HTTPS—wasn’t a fresh invention; The Web as we saw it invented did not also invent hyptertext. But I’d never seen this Wired article by Wolf.
Without over-explaining how the soup gets made, I’ll just mention that this, and the third, things for you to savor this week are exceptionally nerdy this week. I’m not sure whether I’m more excited by the contents of this essay (which to be fair, I only skimmed) or the fact that it’s from like 1992.
[I]n having a body, we are spatially located creatures: we must always be facing some direction, have only certain objects in view, be within reach of certain others. How we manage the spatial arrangement of items around us is not an afterthought: it is an integral part of the way we think, plan, and behave.
Those four sentences are a good start at explaining what it means to be human. I heard Ido Portal (on a podcast) say something like that… about our legs for moving, arms for manipulating, and our spine for orienting ourselves. Just some random thoughts today around space (not “outer”) and ourselves.
As I’ve written before, sometimes I find something that just makes me raise my eyebrows… and back away slowly… and, okay, lots more people should actually see this. Thus I present to you everything you never even thought to wonder about how the Athenians process-ified Democracy.
The Athenians had to keep those bodies flowing smoothly, then, and that was largely a matter of keeping track of who belonged where and when. They also had to maintain a smooth and dependable flow of the information generated by those bodies — the votes, the decrees, the endless speechifying. They had, in short, to do a lot of stuff that modern information technology would have helped them tremendously to do, and nonetheless they managed pretty well, with the materials at hand, to build the tools they needed to make their system work.
Those tools — the info tech of ancient Athenian democracy — are the subject of the following Notes. I present them now without further ado.
