In summary – I believe you should be publishing something to the web, maybe an esoteric spreadsheet, perhaps an open source javascript library, a deep dive into semantic analysis of your favorite author? Who knows? Publish, but keep it weird and humble.
It’s probably confirmation bias, but I definitely agree with this sentiment. The internet enables an endless array of things. For me it’s mostly about me being enabled to share what I’m creating. Weird? Definitely. Humble? …uh, okay okay still working on that.
Currently in my personal knowledge system I have notes on ~400 audio recordings. (Raw recordings I’ve done, podcasts of my own I’ve published, other shows I’ve been on, etc.) That can be my episode notes and writing, but also program-readable meta information. Today, I spent time writing some new tooling to help me sort out transcripts (which recordings have them, which have been sent out, etc.)
Have you ever tried to read Gray’s Anatomy? I tried to read a modern printing of a 1901 edition that was given to me. It’s 1,200+ pages in a perfect-bound book! That might have been 30 years ago and I’m not sure if anything from that adventure stuck… and yet, I bet a huge amount of knowledge has stuck. I recall it was an endless succession of interesting rabbit holes.
Nasal congestion, I’ve learned in all this, is far weirder than I ever thought. For starters, the nose is actually two noses, which work in an alternating cycle that is somehow connected to our armpits.
I’m struggling to resist the urge to see what Gray’s has to say about the nose. I do know that even the most fleeting search of the ‘ol Internet turns up a huge amount of material around this topic. I will also say that I’ve long known that lying on one’s side tends to open the opposing nostril’s nasal whatsit-stuff. Which I know only because I have a long history of sinus and allergy problems and have necessarily tried to sleep with a plugged schnozz, leading to creativity and experimentation.
The bravery founded on hope of recompense, fear of punishment, experience of success, on rage, or on ignorance of danger, is but common bravery, and does not deserve the name. True bravery proposes a just end; measures the dangers, and meets the result with calmness and unyielding decision.
What drives the creation and evolution of a podcast that inspires and educates young entrepreneurs?
The discussion highlights the role of curiosity and intentional storytelling in podcasting.
I realized I wanted to spend more time actually researching before the interview, and not just try to churn them out. But really try to find the best— find the most useful bits from, people’s story and insights, and go deep.
~ Sanat Singhal (13:17)
The conversation goes into the evolving journey of podcasting, focusing on creating meaningful, impactful content. The challenges of guest selection, maintaining enthusiasm, and crafting episodes that inspire and educate are central themes. Sanat shares insights on transitioning from broad topics to a narrower, more intentional focus to better serve an audience of young entrepreneurs. He also emphasize the importance of preparation, storytelling, and personal curiosity in driving engaging conversations.
The discussion reflects on the value of podcasts in fostering connections, such as listeners engaging with guests or guests connecting with one another. It also explores the personal growth experienced by the podcaster, who recognizes the need to shift from mechanical production to more deeply intentional creation. Themes of inspiration, impact, and curiosity are woven throughout, highlighting the transformative potential of podcasts.
Takeaways
The power of storytelling — Sharing personal journeys can inspire and motivate others.
Intentional focus — Narrowing the scope of a podcast can lead to more impactful content.
Curiosity as a driver — Following personal curiosity often leads to the most engaging discussions.
Preparation is key — Deep research enhances the quality and depth of interviews.
Fostering connections — Podcasts can create unexpected relationships and collaborations.
Balancing entertainment and education — An engaging delivery ensures listeners stay connected to the message.
Refining personal values — A clear understanding of impact can shape content direction.
The privilege of podcasting — Hosting allows sharing diverse perspectives with a broader audience.
Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional. Say you’re running and you think, “man, this hurts, I can’t take it anymore.” The “hurt” part is an unavoidable reality, but whether or not you can stand anymore is up to the runner himself.
The same way having a diversity of traits within a population is optimal (yet uncomfortable) in nature, and having a diversity of personalities/beliefs/backgrounds is optimal (yet uncomfortable) in society, I would argue that possessing a diversity of values, perspectives, and inclinations as an individual is optimal (yet uncomfortable) for our psychology.
In certain circles there are some oft-posed rhetorical questions: What’s the work only you can do? What, if you ceased doing it, would people miss? …because there’s a lot of other stuff you could choose to do. Stuff which is easy, and which can be done by anyone. And then there’s the other stuff: The stuff that requires us to balance competing priorities, to resolve conflicting requirements, and to choose among exclusive options.
When’s the last time you made a sub-optimal decision knowing that doing so was better than doing nothing?
Is it better to be the fly on the wall, or the hornet in the room?
I variously categorize conversations on a spectrum from formal to casual. Today I want to talk about conversations that fall in the middle. At the formal end would be police interrogations and then—perhaps—live, antagonistic interviews of politicians. At the casual end would be pillow-talk and long-term friends around a campfire with their preferred beverages. In the middle is fertile ground for great conversations.
So what exactly is in the middle? Therein lie conversations built on a shared intention: Two people who want to resolve a difference, who want to co-create something new from their individual experiences, or who are simply excited about taking a leap into the unknown experience that is a good conversation. It’s that third one which really calls to me these days.
I used to think I was doing interviews. In fact, I began using a process and format intentionally meant to create interviews; I showed up with things I was interested in and I wanted to learn more about from my partner. I soon discovered that when we veered away from the formal-end of the conversation spectrum, (away from the “interview” I had intended to create,) into the more middle-area of simply good conversation, that was when I most enjoyed the experience. My conversation partners clearly enjoyed it more, and the listeners did too. (“hmmmmm… maybe I am onto something here?” #seecraiglearn )
The first thing I have to say is that the form of the created artifact follows from the process.
If I use a process intended to create formal conversations, that’s what I’ll get, (more or less.) If I use a process intended to create more casual conversations, then I get that, (more or less.) The insight is that the process for creating casual conversation is not itself casual. The process is specific, rigorous, and frankly exhausting. It’s exhausting because I want to execute the process in order to create the best possible conversation, and I want to experience that conversation. That’s in contrast to my conversation partner who is only attempting to do the latter because they’re only aware of their desire to experience the conversation. They’re not aware of the process, and they probably shouldn’t be aware.
Each conversation—each performance, since I’m today talking about when we are recording—is better if we’re comfortable going just a bit farther than we might normally. This is where the process pays off. Everything I’ve done in preparation, and everything I do during the conversation, from the obvious to the subtle to the outright manipulative, is in service of creating the best space for that conversation.
The second thing I have to say is that to create good, casual conversations I have to help my partner leap.
In the conversations that I’m currently interested in creating and recording I simply cannot be the fly on the wall. I have to literally sit down with my conversation partner. But there’s an enormous range of engagement that I can vary. (More realistically I can only try to control this, as I’m always balancing the observer-process and the participant-creation experiences.) In my first recorded conversations there quickly became far too much of me performing, (and I’ll leave it at that for today.) Then followed me reigning myself in too far, then some relaxing back towards more of me, and currently I find that I like the amount of me that appears in the conversations.
After listening to Herzog’s thoughts on documentary film-making, (but he talks about a lot more than that in the podcast,) I now see that I need to work on being the active hornet in the room. This is the dimension where I actively lead the conversation—not upstage my partner, but actively lead in the way that two intimate dance partners have a leader, (and, yes, who is leading can change at any moment.)
I need to more often be the hornet. I need to more often suggest simply by my presence that a sting might be imminent. Then if they decline to leap, maybe, sting just a little.
How can ecological dynamics and adaptive learning principles enhance movement training and skill development?
Skilled athletes show more variability in their movement patterns, contradicting the idea that precision comes from rigid consistency.
What matters isn’t that you did a jump. It’s what the jump did for you. So that’s the first realization. And once you make that realization, then the way that you look at it changes.
~ Rafe Kelley (14:52)
The conversation explores the application of ecological dynamics and adaptive learning in movement training. Rafe explains how human movement is not mechanical but emerges from the interaction between the body and its environment. He emphasizes that movement training should focus on fostering adaptability by creating environments where athletes self-organize solutions to physical challenges, rather than relying solely on prescriptive coaching.
A significant part of the discussion centers on the emotional and social dimensions of training. Rafe highlights how effective coaching requires not only designing physical tasks but also cultivating supportive emotional spaces that encourage growth. He shares stories of students whose personal growth through movement translated into other areas of life, reinforcing the broader value of movement practices as tools for character development.
Takeaways
Movement practice serves personal growth — The goal is not the jump itself but the transformation that occurs through achieving it.
Ecological dynamics shapes learning — Adaptive movement stems from interaction with the environment, fostering natural self-organization.
Emotional space in coaching — Creating a supportive environment allows athletes to thrive and explore beyond physical limitations.
Variability is key to mastery — Skilled athletes demonstrate variability in their movement paths, showing adaptability rather than strict repetition.
Storytelling enhances teaching — Sharing personal stories and experiences deepens the impact of lessons and connects with students on a human level.
Social connection strengthens practice — Incorporating partner-based or group training creates relational growth alongside physical development.
Insight generation through journaling — Reflecting on training experiences solidifies lessons and integrates personal growth.
Resources
Evolve Move Play — Rafe Kelley’s website featuring workshops, podcasts, and movement resources.
Art of Retreat — Information about the event series focused on Parkour leadership and education.
All excesses are injurious, but immoderate prosperity is the most dangerous of all. It affects the brain, it conjures empty fantasies up in the mind, and it befogs the distinction between true and false with a confusing cloud. Is it not better to endure everlasting misfortune, with virtue’s help, than to burst with endless and immoderate prosperity? Death by starvation comes gently, gluttony makes men explode.
It’s time to stop blaming our surroundings and start taking responsibility. While no workplace is perfect, it turns out that our gravest challenges are a lot more primal and personal. Our individual practices ultimately determine what we do and how well we do it. Specifically, it’s our routine (or lack thereof), our capacity to work proactively rather than reactively, and our ability to systematically optimize our work habits over time that determine our ability to make ideas happen.
Routine is great. Routine guides me to channel my pensive morning moods into reflecting on what I want to accomplish that day. Routine suggests that I create spaces which enable certain types of work. Routine saves me time by streamlining the vast majority of my chores. Routine ensures I make progress on the long-term projects that seem insurmountable at the beginning. Routine forces me to make time to encounter new ideas.
But rigidity won’t do. Sometimes I want to break free.
I earn my living in comedy, but science is my hobby. I’m a fan of science: I hang out with scientists at science places and I read about science and scientists. My mom always says, “If you walk like a duck, talk like a duck, and hang around with ducks, people will start thinking you’re a duck.” This may be true for juvenile delinquents and waterfowl, but, unfortunately, if you walk like a scientist, talk like a scientist, and hang around with scientists, people will still know you’re a dumb-assed comedian.
When you get there, you will learn that SYMFTR is an acronym.
The piece begins with an apologwarning about it being long. It is not. …and if you have trouble reading pieces of this length — I weep for your soul and you really need to read more.
I once stood in the VIP area, 3.7 miles from a space shuttle when America EXPLODED HUMANS INTO SPACE. It was everything Penn describes. I should probably write about it, but it was so soo long ago.
I’ve often heard, “that which gets measured, gets improved.” (…and you have to actually plan and work to realize improvements.)
Ten years ago, I saw 270 pounds on the scale and decided to start tracking. The first step was to work on getting proper sleep (followed by many more steps – but that’s another story.) I’ve been tracking health related things – weight, hours of sleep, dietary supplements, habits like stretching (whatever little projects I’ve had going on) for almost 10 years. This enables me to trot out amazing things like this when I’m looking for some inspiration…
Highest weight from memory: 270 Dec 2006, earliest recorded weight: 265 Jun 2012, started Parkour: 254 Jun 2014, ADAPT 1: 240 Aug 2014, rock climbing in Colorado: 232 Mar 2016: 221
Me, excited? You betcha!!
I’ve said it before: Find the smallest first step you can make towards your goal. Take that step. Tomorrow, look back and say, “well… I’ve come this far, may as well take the next step!” The hardest part of any journey is believing the journey is possible.
Epic: This was meant to be the first climb as part of our 24 hour challenge. A classic bush-wack approach to the base of the rocks at sunrise. Then 5 pitches of traditional climbing finishing at the overlook on top of the mountain.
We got up at 4:30am, having packed everything the night before. It was pretty chilly and we were facing a good hour-and-a-half stomp through the woods. Our plan? …walk straight through the campgrounds — literally through camp sites and out the back of the campground. Then, head directly up hill until twilight brought us a good view of the mountain.
Initially, we were walking through grass-carpeted woods, and through a small meadow atop a little hill. But the further we went, the steeper it got. Until it turned into a true “class 3” scramble.
Pre-dawn approach
Twilight was upon us as we reached the base of the lowest spire.
We reached the base of the rocks moment before dawn.
…and this is what the dawn “Alpine glow” looks like at 8,000 feet on Deer Mountain.
Giddy as school children — and possibly a wee bit oxygen deprived — we took a break to sight-see.
The base of Deer Ridge
Sunrise from Stagway on Deer Ridge
The final approach phase — yes, this is all just to get TO the climbing — is to duck around the lowest spire and climb up another 500 feet. To the left of the nose is a gently sloping shoulder called Stagway.
Sunrise on Deer Ridge
We totally loved that the “Notice” sign, had been there so long, that the actual notice was gone. The view from Stagway was beyond awesome, and was well worth the two hours of extreme labor to reach it’s ~8,500′ above sea level view point.
At this point, we could finally walk up to the base of the climb and assess. We were facing 30+ mph wind gusts, storm/rain clouds coming down the valley, and the first section was 80 vertical feet of crack climbing. (ie, there are no hand holds on the rock, just a crack to wedge your fingers and hands into.) We discussed it for a while, and I eventually called it off. It was just too many things weighing on the wrong side of the equation.
We snacked and discussed climbing the random looking stuff directly above Stagway. Unfortunately, the climbing guide said all the climbable lines were on the nose and to the right. On the plus side, it would be easier (in terms of technical difficulty) than climbing the nose, and just for a perk, it would be opening a new line. (Meaning no one had ever climbed it.) We figure that after one section through this stuff on the left, we could traverse back to the right, and continue up the nose’s progressively easier sections.
Unfortunately, this is also where we stopped taking photos and video as things went from being “fun”, to being “hard work.”
We setup and started up through the randomness above Stagway. After a long, long time slowly feeding rope to Mike, he stopped climbing and setup a belay point totally out of my sight. (Remember, it’s windy so we can’t communicate at all beyond a very simple rope-pulling system.) Eventually, I started up after him. I won’t say it was a mistake, because it was still fun at parts. But we spent nearly two hours, gaining about 50 vertical feet. I seriously thought Mike had been trying to write his name on the wall as I followed the rope up and down (down?!) left to right across the rocks. There was a lot of tricky climbing, and a tremendous amount of effort for almost no vertical gain.
Finally, at our first belay, with only half the gain we needed to go around the nose’s first section, we both decided to bail off. Bailing from the middle of a mountain requires leaving gear behind; You have to build an anchor, and then rappel from that anchor. You can pull your rope down, but the gear has to be left behind. Part of our plan for the 24 hour challenge included “bail gear”. That’s a small collection of things that we wouldn’t normally use, because if you used it, then you couldn’t bail off it in a pinch. This was litterly one nut, and a carabiner that Mike had found in the Himalayas that had been left behind when someone else had bailed.
It took us 10 seconds to rappel off of our two hours of work. That was followed by an hour of down-scrabble all the way back to our camp site, where we collapsed pretty exhausted. At this point the weather seemed to be deteriorating, and we threw in the towel on our entire 24-hour challenge. We never even tried to cross over to MacGregor slab. We did say, half-jokingly, that we would come back some day and get it right.
Aside: as I write, in March 2015, we are planning to return in July.
On the other hand, we both felt like climbing more, so we headed over to climb “Batman and Robin” over on Lumpy Ridge. (Which will be my next post.)
