While there’s nothing wrong with always having our nose to the grindstone, and having every day feel the same as the last … what would it be like to open to something different?
I hate to quibble with Babauta (his writing having been so instrumental in my growth over decades). But… uhm, actually, I’m going to say there is indeed something wrong with having one’s nose to the grindstone. Working a hard dash on meaningful work is healthy. Dashing all the time is—by definition—not dashing. Lately I’m again and again (and again and again and again) returning to the same problem. I’ve so many things I want to do, but only so many hours.
Always read with a pen handy. The pen should be used both to mark the text you want to remember and to write from where the text leaves you. Think of the text as the starting point for your own words.
You only need that lesson once. That wasn’t the standard, and you know what the standard is. Hold the standard. Ask for help. Fix it. Do whatever’s necessary. But don’t cheat.
The teachings of your instructor constitute only a small fraction of what you will learn. Your master of each movement will depend almost completely on individual, earnest practice.
In the past, I’ve enjoyed posting these sort of photo essays. (For example, there are several of them from a 2014 adventure in Colorado.) The hard part, of course, is getting somewhere and taking the photos.
Back in August, we spent a half-day at the Corning Museum of Glass, in Corning, New York. (Yes, the Corning, New York, of Corning Ware repute.) It turns out that Corning is quite the hot spot—sorry, couldn’t resist—for glass work in general. To wit:
If you’re going to make a gallery for displaying glass, this is the way to do it. More glass than not in the ceiling with hung-vertically dividers; The entire space is flooded with natural light, but you don’t see the light’s source, unless you look straight up. The ceiling is flat; the space is not rectangular.
Note the three “trees” at the far end of the room. They are not what they appear to be.
In another space, just around the corner…
Murano, as in the islands in Venice, Italy. In the top-right of that Carrion’s photo, you can see this piece…
And this sphere, for which I neglected to snap the description. It’s composed of folded ribbons of glass, and it’s appearance is the same whatever direction you look at it. There’s a bright, omni-directional light inside. The glass wall behind the piece extends the entire height of the building, not just the floor of this gallery. There’s an applique that is about half-round holes, half opaque white—so the outside world is visible curiously obscured as if by fog.
Hey, I’m pretty good at this photo essay stuff! Not. The trick it to have spectacular things to photograph. Like this iconic piece by Dale Chihuly. It’s “simply” hundreds of similarly blow glass pieces which are individually, (each has a hole in the interior end,) slid onto the countless small pins sticking out of the central armature.
In another gallery, there were countless, large cases with displays like this, where I kept going, “wat? holy crap!” (I’d make a great, R-rated, museum tour guide.)
Really. Holy crap!
Finally, I’ll leave you with this piece. (I have photos of many more, and there were thousands of things I gaped at and didn’t photograph.) This was very difficult to capture in photographs. There are two, four-legged figures inside this case. They have legs made from square-sided bottles. The two figures are similar, but not identical, and are posed marching, one after the other. I’ve taken a photo from before them, looking past them on one side and the other. The case is a size that you could put your hands on either end and is in a darkened area in the museum. There are only two figures in the case— everything else is repeated, internal reflections…
Philosophers became insignificant when philosophy became a separate academic discipline, distinct from science and history and literature and religion.
Which is worth sharing just because it’s Freeman Dyson—I’m quoting a quote—in all his zany glory.
…but also, yeah. Why isn’t STEM today thought of as a branch of philosophy, (“love of truth” after all)? STEM degrees remain Ph.D.s, but beyond that vestigially appendix . . .
Which type of Muppet are you? You’d think your answer would depend a lot on your innate personality. But it turns out that the tightness or looseness of your environment plays a big part in whether you’re more Gonzo or Kermit.
