leftovers - aesop's fables

I worry that my recent attempts to rewrite a few morals from Aesop’s Fables might come off as mocking so I thought I would take a different approach today – here's a story I thought got it spot-on.

'The Lion and The Dolphin' – one day, a lion at the beach notices a dolphin. He notes their complimentary skills – the lion is strong on land while the dolphin patrols the sea. The lion proposes an alliance and the dolphin accepts.

Later, the lion, long at war with a bull, calls on the dolphin to help. The dolphin does not help and the lion is enraged. The dolphin responds – don’t blame me, blame nature, who has not allowed me to walk on land.

Moral: Make alliances with those who can come to our aid in times of danger.

The basic point of this story is simple – a lot of times, we do things ‘just because’ and fail to think through it properly as a result. Alliance making is one of those things because it seems better to have allies than to not. But if the allies cannot help us, all we’ve done is taken on additional obligation for no benefit. Think of how vulnerable the lion will be when paddling out into the sea to help the dolphin!

The importance of complimentary skill sets is another such thing. Again, it seems better to have complimentary skills with those we partner with. But it is important to understand the purpose of the partnership. If the need is for basic manpower, the blind insistence on finding good compliments will serve as a distraction rather than a guide.

tales of two cities, vol 11: apr '17, part 2

04/10/2017
Cambridge Main Library at Broadway / Trowbridge St (4:48 pm)
Back Bay T Stop - Dartmouth St at Stuart St (5:22 pm)

My first fine of the year! Let's blame the Boston Marathon for the extra traffic, wild pedestrians, and heightened security. These factors all conspire to keep me away from any usable racks until I run well over my thirty minutes.

The main problem is a Hubway policy to keep Copley-area bike racks in storage until the marathon is over. This is understandable. But it reduces usage of those spaces by a month or more. Instead of rolling out as early as late February, we must all wait until the last runner crosses the line in Copley Square, an event traditionally occurring around 6pm on the third Monday of April.

04/11/2017
Charles Circle - Charles St at Cambridge St (6:45 pm)
Seaport Hotel - Congress St at Seaport Ln (7:07 pm)

No matter how bright the permanent crayons used by the mayor and his infrastructure team, sometimes a bike lane is just a suggestion to a driver. This post rush-hour trip along Surface Street from the North End to the Seaport reminds me once more of this reality.

About halfway through the trip, I almost suffer my first major injury on a bike. The bus in front of me and the truck behind me both start to slide over to the right until they each have one wheel on the bike lane. A right turn is coming and I don't have many good options; stopping might get me run over by the truck while cutting left exposes me to unseen drivers zipping past these enormous vehicles.

I hold my nerve and, like a matador guiding the horns past his person, angle the front wheel of the bike at the back left bumper of the bus. As the bus cuts right across the bike lane, I slide left into traffic and fill the space the bus's left bumper has just vacated. Theoretically, if I follow the bumper back into the bike lane, I'll stay ahead of the truck without being in danger of getting clipped by a driver passing the bus.

What I don't see is the pothole. The bus is covering it up. Just as the bumper clears my line of vision, I see the gaping hole. If my front wheel catches, I could flip and land right in front of where the turning truck will go. By instinct, I jump. The cinder block of a bicycle comes off the ground, just, and I clear the other side by the width of a debit card. The back wheel catches the hole but I manage to power through, up, and out of the hole, out of the intersection, out to safety on the other side.

04/13/2017
Charles Circle - Charles St at Cambridge St (2:50 pm)
Surface Rd at India St (3:08 pm)

After almost clocking it face-first into a pothole just two nights ago, I decide to investigate alternate routes into the Seaport. My wandering takes me toward the North End, a neighborhood I used to enjoy biking through before construction made it essentially impassable during the past year.

I start my journey by traveling east on Cambridge Street. At Staniford Street, I turn left onto one of Boston's newest features: a separated two-way bike path on the right hand side of the road. In this space, riders are entirely cut off from car traffic and pedestrians must slalom through upright lane dividers to invade the bike space. It is my favorite solution so far (and one I first saw the prior July in DC) for the issue of safe bike travel on two-way city streets.

As Staniford intersects with Causeway Street, I notice more bike lane construction. Here, it appears the plan is to build a central two-way bike path. I'm not as sure about this one but I like the spirit. If everything goes right, this new space will be better protected from pedestrians than a sidewalk based solution. I suppose it could end up being an improvement on existing methods.

Still, I can't help but shake my head at the memory of two nights ago. Was it Neil Armstrong who said a little pothole is 'one minor bump for a driver, one cause of death for a cyclist?'

No?

Well, in any event, it seems bike safety is like other fields in the way those easily distracted by bold visions, big plans, and new ideas seem to take funding and attention away from those demanding simpler solutions to maintain the safety level of the current infrastructure.

04/17/2017
Back Bay T Stop - Dartmouth St at Stuart St (1:52 am)
Charles st and Beacon St (1:59 am)

New York trip, Amtrak ride, it always gets in late, I think you get the drill by now, reader.

04/28/2017
Charles Circle - Charles St at Cambridge St (8:59 am)
One Kendall Square at Hampshire St / Portland St (9:11 am)

The Hubway Unicorn bikes refer to the one-of-a-kind models available in the system. As far as I know, there are eight Unicorns in all. Each one is distinct in terms of frame art. As far as I know, the model of bike is similar to others found in the system. I decide sometime in April to try and ride all eight. Who knows why? Makes a good boredom killing project, right? Gray springs are dull enough.

On this Friday morning, I spot the East Boston unicorn at the far end of the rack and my project is underway. This unicorn was launched last fall to celebrate East Boston's Hubway expansion. I adjust the seat, unlock the bike, and pedal onto the Longfellow Bridge.

Immediately, I recognize a problem. The unicorns, being eye-catching in design and well-understood as unique vehicles, are likely to grab the attention of other riders. This means they are probably more likely to wear down faster than the other bikes from overuse. The East Boston unicorn is a perfect exemplar of this theory- the bike is slow, the brakes uncommitted, the grips frayed.

It takes me twice as long to get over the Longfellow Bridge as usual. When I do, I dock it at the first rack I find and switch it out for a faster, regular bike.

leftovers - the toa organizing awards

Hi folks,

Today, I reveal the big winner from last week’s unofficial ‘TOA Organizing Awards’.

Good luck, reader.

Tim

For general mentality…

The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up by Marie Kondo

Kondo’s book demonstrates how a fuller life becomes possible when the self is freed of mental, visual, and physical clutter. But the problem with clutter is that we try to bring closure to something that will never cease – there is always something dirty to clean, something old to throw out, something else to put away. Her idea that storage is the last step in any tidying task is her lasting contribution to my overall organizing mentality. By saving all the storage-related aspects of tidying for the end, I became able to impose order on a process defined by its inherent disorder and bring temporary closure to a process that would otherwise go on forever.

Her main example came in the context of reducing possessions – do not store anything until all the items to throw away have been determined. I’ve found the idea applies broadly to other tidying tasks as well. In fact, it brings to mind many of the concepts I’ve highlighted before – batch tasks together for better efficiency, prioritize (and schedule) the mentally challenging tasks first, create spaces to store the things you’ve yet to make a decision about. All of these touch on this idea in some way by pushing the storage portion of a given tidying task to the back end of the process. And when the storage portion is complete, the task is over and you move on to the next thing.

Outside of this book being bizarrely marketed as ‘a Japanese philosophy’, I thought The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up was a perfect self-help book. Kondo kept things simple, didn’t bury me with examples or anecdotes, and, most importantly, didn’t make me feel like a butthead for being disorganized in the first place. It framed disorganization as a problem to work on instead of a nagging condition to forever manage. Most importantly, it acknowledged the importance of unlocking the soul from its incessant administrative expectations and freeing it to pursue the expressive, creative, and spontaneous activities that create new energy and make life worth living.

aesop’s fables, remastered - part five

Good morning,

Reader, today is the last installment of my short series – please see below for my final two rewritten morals from Aesop’s Fables.

Enjoy.

Tim

'The Ass and The Mule carrying the same heavy loads' – two animals are trudging along a road together, each carrying the same share of weight. The ass complains and suggests the mule, being more physically capable, should carry more weight. The ass-driver notices the ass’s exhaustion and slowly shifts more of the load to the mule until the ass is no longer carrying anything. At this point, the mule turns to the ass and says – I think it would be fair if I got twice as much to eat, don’t you?

Moral: We should judge each other’s condition not just at the start but also at the finish.

What? This fable had a great name and a nonsensical moral. I actually don’t get what it means. It doesn’t help that the mule is dreadful at math – though it goes from carrying half the load to the entire load, it only asks for twice as much food as the ass. Shouldn’t it demand the whole plate?

TYC: Never have a mule negotiate on your behalf.

'The River and The Hide' – a river asks a floating hide its name. The hide responds – I am called Hard.

Find another name, says the river as it increases its current, for I shall make you Soft.

Moral: Often, bold and arrogant people are overwhelmed by the misfortunes of life.

This one made me wonder if someone had accidentally shuffled the fables and the morals. Does a river having a current count as one of life’s… misfortunes? Don’t all rivers have currents? If rivers are so bad, why are so many cities built alongside them?

TYC: The flow of daily life can change who we are.

i reread being mortal so you don't have to

Being Mortal by Atul Gawande (February 2018)

I recently reread Atul Gawande’s Being Mortal, an exploration of how the medical profession is meeting the challenge of advising aging patients as they begin to consider the many options available to them for end-of-life care. As I recalled from my first read, it was a comprehensive account of the many factors involved when physicians are challenged to make the best decisions for patients and their families in situations where fixing or healing the patient is no longer the obvious course of care.

The uncomfortable question medicine will always grapple with is how to know it is time to stop recommending additional treatment. In a rich country such as the USA, there will always be one more round of care available through an extravagant option such as an experimental treatment or a last-ditch surgery. Gawande suggests that doctors often struggle at this stage with the reality of a disease and are more comfortable discussing the pros and cons of the remaining treatment options than they are discussing whether or not to stop treatment. This is a fair enough point, I think, but it does make me wonder if there are hidden reasons why it is implied that doctors are less capable of discussing ‘non-treatment’ options with their patients.

The strongest possibility I could come up with is that doctors understand the realities of non-treatment options and simply do not think they represent the best decision in most circumstances. This makes sense given the poor reputations boasted by certain nursing homes or assisted living facilities. The reality of this perception is perhaps reflected in the way these facilities are setup to appeal not just to prospective residents but also to caregivers and primary decision makers. Those concerned with how doctors are advising their patients on end-of-life options should remember that the better the non-treatment options are, the more likely it will be that doctors will recommend these options to their patients.

In some cases, the non-treatment options are very limited in their scope. The illness is simply too advanced in these cases and palliative measures may not be good enough to keep the terminal patient comfortable. The idea of ‘assisted suicide’ is becoming a more common option for these situations. In general, society battles against suicide because we understand most suffering to be temporary. This is perhaps especially true of the suffering brought on by mental or emotional health challenges. In the case of certain illnesses, however, we understand that suffering is NOT temporary but rather a permanent condition that will only worsen as the patient continues a long, steady decline. If a patient wishes to end such a life on his or her own terms, who is another person to intervene?

The idea of this option makes sense to me and I think its increasing acceptance around the world foreshadows its (eventual) full adoption here in the USA. Already, there are simple examples – like removing a breathing apparatus or feeding tube – that essentially are forms of assisted suicide. However, there is something unsettling to me about assisted suicide, especially if those in the medical profession are enlisted to help carry out these decisions. I don't think the response to my discomfort, though, is to rail against progress or look for ways to bolster ‘slippery slope’ arguments that I would use to debate against the idea.

Instead, I’m brought back to the earlier thought about doctors advising their patients – a good way to discourage one option is to make the alternative better. Options such as assisted living are challenging because they are hard. But if done correctly, the possibilities are significant for patients and their families. As Gawande points out in Being Mortal, assisted living is harder than assisted suicide because its possibilities are greater. I’ve been privileged to witness many wonderful moments firsthand through my volunteer work with hospice. The opportunity to experience these moments with friends and loved ones should be extended to as many patients as possible, I feel, but it will take a lot of work to build up our network of non-treatment options to provide the support and care every patient needs to live each remaining day to the fullest.

aesop’s fables, remastered - part four

Hi all,

Today, I improve on another set of Aesop’s… morals.

'The Ageing Lion and the Fox' – an old lion lost his physical advantages and turned to trickery instead to capture his prey. He pretended to be ill, retired to a cave, and asked other animals to visit him.

A fox was invited in but figured out the trick before entering the cave. The fox rejected the invitation, announcing – more footprints point into the cave than point out…

Moral: The wise note indicators of danger.

This moral isn’t too far off the mark, quite frankly, but I think it could do better. Do we really need to invoke the lessons of CSI and conduct a thorough forensic analysis to figure this situation out? A lion is a lion is a lion, no matter how old, and the ‘indicator of danger’ is in the mane, the teeth, and the claws – not in the footprint patterns surrounding his sickbed.

TYC: Don’t forget the base rate.

'The Lion, The Fox, and The Stag' – a dying lion, still king of the jungle, calls on the fox to help him get dinner. The fox agrees to help and tricks the stag into visiting the lion by telling the stag that the lion wishes to appoint him successor to the throne after his death.

When the stag arrives, the lion pounces. The stag escapes with a cut ear. The fox finds the stag again and explains that the lion was merely trying to grab the stag in order to give him advice. The stag returns and this time the lion devours him. The fox watches on and, when the stag’s heart falls from the lion’s mouth, the fox jumps in and eats it whole.

Eventually, the lion realizes the heart is missing. He asks the fox where it is. The fox says – stop looking, for the stag had no heart. How could you have heart if you walk twice into the lion’s den?

Moral: Love of honor closes the eyes to imminent danger.

This was by far the longest fable in the book. I don’t think the length was necessary – the story could easily have made the same point if the lion had ate the stag on the first round.

As for the moral – I don’t think the story makes a very clear point about honor. I think the fox was a liar and the stag was a sucker. The fox is basically the main character here, anyway, and I think the moral would make more sense if it commented on the fox’s actions.

TYC: Those who lie for you will someday lie to you.

the toa organizing awards

As I mentioned in a May post, many works influenced my current approach toward keeping organized. I thought it over briefly, came up with a list of examples, and decided (because why not) that the time was right for another pointless series of awards.

The TOA Organizing Awards

For helping me understand the possibilities of being organized…

High-Output Management by Andy Grove

Grove writes that the act of gathering and distributing information is among the manager’s most important functions. Those who are better organized with their time are able to spend more time gathering information. Therefore, anyone who wishes to lead effectively must constantly become better at time management.

For helping me understand how much time I should spend writing…

Daily Rituals by Mason Currey

As I highlighted in my thoughts about Ben Franklin, Daily Rituals proved critical in defining the appropriate length of time for work. After I read about the many creators highlighted in this book, I realized that most artists do not get more than four hours of good work done in a given day. Further, I noticed how most artists worked in one continuous block of time. I applied the lesson and blocked off the first three to four hours of my day for writing.

…and work, too, I suppose…

I also extended this idea to the workplace. I aimed to schedule four hours of real work each day. What was real work? For me, real work generally meant creative tasks like writing code, running job interviews, or teaching a skill.

Once I’d scheduled ‘real work’ into my calendar, I filled in the rest of my time with the brainless admin every employee must do to help run an organization (scheduling meetings, researching contracts, putting my handwritten notes into an electronic format, and so on).

For helping me sort email…

The 4-Hour Workweek by Tim Ferriss

As I wrote about in my review for this book, Ferriss’s explanation of ‘batching’ email tasks together helped me a great deal when I was navigating my first inbox crisis. I’ve continued using this principle to group similar tasks together and cut down on the time I’ve spent repeating myself via identical email responses.

…and for helping me send it…

Tim Harford - 'Ten Email Commandments' (specifically, point #3)

Harford’s article extended Ferriss’s logic a step further by ‘batching’ emails into these four general actions. Here’s the way I use the concepts today:

-If I can throw it out, I delete it
-If it takes less than a minute to do everything the email requires, I do it
-If someone else can do it for me, I delegate it
-If I need more time or information to complete it, I defer it

Harford’s article was not the first time I’ve heard about this method. However, for some reason it was the first time I read about it and thought I should give it a try.

For teaching me how to safely put things off for later…

The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin

I remember two very good ideas from Rubin’s book. First, she recommends doing any organizing task that would take less than one minute. Her ‘one-minute rule’ is really helpful for mental clutter – by completing all the little tasks as they come up, I never leave home thinking about a long list of things I’ll need to do when I get back. (This rule is very similar to the ‘DO’ rule for email I mentioned earlier – same principle.)

The second idea was to always have an empty storage area (her specific idea was a shelf). This storage space is for leaving anything with obvious value that does not have a proper home yet. In other words, it should only be used as storage space during emergencies (to the extent that storage can ever be described as an ‘emergency’) and left empty at all other times. This rule is really helpful for visual clutter – by ‘quarantining’ all the unsorted items into a defined area, the rest of the space remains in its generally well-organized state.

For teaching me how to deal with paper clutter…

Tim Harford (again) - "There's magic in mess" (go to the first reference to Yukio Noguchi)

I return to my favorite economist for his insights into paper clutter. His recommendation is to forget about filing systems, folders, or binders – instead, he suggests making a pile on your desk of all incoming paper that has no obvious storage place. If you end up repeatedly going into the pile for the item, perhaps it should go into its own space. But if you go six months without touching the item, it probably means it can be safely thrown out.

I’ve been trying a modified concept at home by using an empty case of beer as my catch-all box for any paper I’m not sure of. I go through the bottom half of it when it fills up and I make a decision about each item. Anything I go into the box for in the meantime gets permanently removed and put into its own defined storage space.

For clarifying the difference between a to-do list and a calendar…

'Ditch the To Do List' by Jemar Tisby

This article points out the great lie of the ‘to-do’ list, at least in terms of being organized with time. The organized person uses a calendar and fills it – the disorganized person has an endless to-do list onto which tasks, goals, and obligations disappear forever.

A good example of this idea ties back to my email idea above. To ‘defer’ an email for later really means scheduling time to answer it, not just leaving it in the inbox indefinitely. In fact, email strikes me as a good place to start for those wondering about how to implement this tactic because for most people email quickly turns into a ‘to-do’ list anyone with your email address can indiscriminately add to.

For showing me how to organize long blog posts…

Lost In Translation by Ella Frances Sanders

Just kidding, reader. I haven’t learned how to do this yet. That word bracket was something else though, was it not?

Anyway, I think this is enough for today, organized reader. I have one more book to highlight and I think it is safe to call it the big winner in this unofficial ‘TOA Organizing Awards’ series. Look for this final post sometime soon.

Until then,

Tim

aesop’s fables, remastered - part three

Hi,

Today, we continue my recent mini-series where I rewrite the morals of Aesop’s Fables…

One thing I want to note before I begin. With a lot of these fables, I notice too much weight given to what is “true until it isn’t”. I think many of the stories I note for having a problematic moral fall afoul of this point. In these cases, Aesop’s foolish characters are distracted by details and unable to see why a given situation might change in the future. As always, the wise benefit from taking a longer view.

Thanks for reading.

Tim

'The Gardener Watering the Vegetables' – in this insane story, a man asks a gardener why the wild vegetables are flourishing while the cultivated ones remain puny. The gardener responds – it is because the Earth is a mother to one and a stepmother to the others.

Moral: Children fed by a stepmother are not nourished like those who have their true mother.

Goodness… I understand vilifying the stepmother is a long-running tradition of yesteryear’s literature. I’m wondering now – is this the story that started it all? In any event, we here at TOA aren’t very supportive of Aesop’s pseudo-science…

From my experience, when an inept person is in charge, some people still flourish – just like how the wild vegetables manage to excel despite the idiot gardener. But if a competent person is charge, it really doesn’t matter who is brought in because everyone will succeed in the environment.

TYC: A bad gardener blames the vegetables.

'The Jackdaw Who Escaped' – a man ties a thread to a jackdaw and gives it to his son as a pet. The jackdaw cannot tolerate captivity and tries to flee. However, in flight, the thread becomes tangled and gets wrapped around the jackdaw’s throat.

Moral: Those who cannot tolerate moderate dangers risk hurling themselves into greater peril.

There is a point of view here that makes some sense – a little discomfort must sometimes be tolerated. But keep in mind here that the ‘discomfort’ Aesop refers to is… SLAVERY… so maybe I’m not quite on the same page with our grizzled wizard of morals on this one.

TYC: If you are tied to something, untie yourself before doing anything else.

aesop’s fables, remastered - part two

Hi all,

Below, I’ve reinterpreted a few more of Aesop’s fables.

Enjoy.

Tim

'The Woman and Her Servants' – a woman’s rooster wakes up her servants every morning. The servants decide to kill the bird so that they can sleep in. The woman, no longer able to determine the exact moment of dawn without the bird, starts to wake up the servants even earlier.

Moral: It is our own devices that bring greater misery.

This is another example of victim blaming. Describing the actions of servants as ‘their own devices’? Please. The problem isn’t the time of the wake up call – it’s the fact of what the wake up call represents in the context of freedom.

TYC: Treat the disease, not the symptom.

'The Oak Trees and Zeus' – the trees complain about being chopped down and Zeus responds by telling them to be less desirable to woodcutters.

Moral: People who author their own ills foolishly blame the gods.

This is a spectacularly dumb story. These trees grow up, completely defenseless, waiting all the while to get chopped into Lincoln Logs. They raise the issue to Zeus, who is apparently some kind of leader among the gods. What does the great Zeus do about it? Not much, unless your limited concept of jurisprudence involves the ‘you asked for it’ defense.

TYC: If you don’t want to deal with a problem, just blame the victims.

'The Camel Who Shat In The River' – this tastefully named story refers to a somewhat low-intelligence camel who relieves himself in a river. Moments later, the dung he just deposited behind him is caught in the current and floats by in front of him.

The camel doesn’t understand what is going on and exclaims – what is going on? That which was behind me I now see pass in front of me!

Moral: Sometimes idiots hold sway rather than the eminent or sensible.

I thought this story was a slam-dunk for ‘shit runs downhill’ (or downstream). I’d have also accepted ‘the past always catches up to us’ or even ‘the river knows’. Alas, Aesop once more cooks up some other nonsense and, in the process, proves his inability to explain even the most basic of his stories…

TYC: Some people can’t explain shit.

footprints

My feet were telling me something and I slowed, stopped. I turned around to look back at my feet, at my path, at my footprints. The snow continued to fall as I gazed on my footprints, each step bearing witness to where I’d just been moments before, each depression slowly filling with fresh flakes. I doubled back alongside my path, forging a new trail, a second line tracing a parallel to the first.

The feet never lie. This is the truth, a truth I’ve learned many times over, a truth sometimes learned the hard way. With each step, the feet are the first to arrive and the last to leave.

The feet never lie. I’ve known this truth forever. It was perhaps the very first thing I knew. When I was ready to stand, I asked my feet. My feet never lied. One day, I asked again, and my feet gave a new answer. They were ready. I stood and remained standing, my infant feet supporting me all the while.

Infant feet are an amazing sight. The soles are tiny and incapable of holding the world’s newest weight. Sometimes, baby feet look a lot like baby hands. It is a great mystery that these feet are the beginning of what carries us throughout a lifetime.

The newborn lifestyle is always short-lived. Everything comes to the infant, everything is new, and everything is enough. The world is love and togetherness and revelation. The infant gets everything it needs. One day, the world becomes insufficient, the world is no longer enough. Where is the world? The question sends the attention wandering, out to where it came from, out to where it is going, out to the beyond. The question brings the infant to its feet.

To see a baby stand for the first time is a bittersweet experience. It leaves behind the stability it has known to begin a lifelong search for balance. It seeks a place in the world, the place where it belongs, the place from where it will fall. To stand confirms that presence is no longer sufficient. The world no longer gives what is needed. The feet grant independence by shackling the child to solitude. It introduces accumulation by enabling a search for enough. The standing baby never looks back.

As the child answers the question of the world, the feet take on their unique shape. The toes stretch and reach, using balance to build stability, absorbing the past to form a foundation for the future. The ever-present imprint stamps every freshly explored ground. Each path is new and each footprint is the seed for the journey ahead.

The walking child is a reminder of the wonder of learning, of mobility, of novelty. On two feet, the world changes, the world ends, the world becomes possible. Each discovery cultivates the trailblazer’s ethos, the joy of discovery, the excitement to see what is next. The exhilaration of movement speeds us up, faster and faster, a walk becoming a jog, a jog becoming a run, a burning desire to see what comes next.

The feet do not need to learn because the feet know how to balance us, the feet know how to carry us, the feet know how to run. This is what the runner knows. When we run with joy, our light strides skim us over the grass. It seems hardly plausible that we touched the ground at all. It is only the footprints we leave behind that ground us, that tell the story of where we’ve been, a testament to our hurried impatience to get from here to there and back again.

Every first step is like a walk into the fresh snow. With every new step, the possibility of another step is born. The trail of footprints tells a story. It proves who was first and reminds us of where we came from. It tells the story of how we made our mark. A meandering, wandering line is lonely evidence of tentative steps taken slowly, begrudgingly, while a firm, unbroken line shows our confidence and assurance. Our lifelines express the individuality of a journey and the uniqueness of presence. Each step into new ground creates new ground; each forward step is a beginning. But a path traversed once cannot be pioneered again.

A great gift of mobility is the joy of following in someone’s footsteps. This new delight makes up for the loss of the explorer’s excitement. The wonder of tracing steps teaches us empathy. We see the world through another’s eyes, walk the paths forged by another’s steps, and gaze up from the bottom of another's depths. We delight in what we share. We learn how to walk together and come to cherish the steps made in tandem, in balance, to create paths we can travel to common ground. We dread the always lurking fork where the paths diverge and we must forge on again, alone.

We learn that just one step in another direction can separate anything, that one step can change everything. This is the truth a runner knows. A separation is always a moment away. A hidden root, a broken sidewalk, a rough patch, and we are separated from our place in the world. The feet, forever two parts of one, no longer belong together, no longer bring the critical balance. Their shared paths diverge as one bears the burden imposed by the other.

When we run with pain, our heavy gait drags us across the pavement. With each step, the feet prove again that they are forever ready to carry us, no matter how our burdens weigh us down, no matter how heavily each stride hits the ground, no matter how unsteady a once balanced path becomes. But each pained step is proof that we cannot run on forever, that things do end sometime, that what we tie together is destined to come undone.

The feet never lie. Each limping stride hints at the end, a step closer to the last stand. Eventually, the feet will let us down. I learn this lesson when I spend time with the sick, with the bedridden, with the dying. The feet that once were such reliable supports are no longer there.

A person’s feet tell the story of a life. Those who still leave their footprints have different feet than those who do not. The dormant feet no longer leave their mark. The feet that go unused take on a different shape. The toes retreat from full stretch and curl back toward the familiar. The soles that once discovered the physical world now prepare for the return to eternity. Our feet begin to take on, once more, our infant forms, and as we come off our feet we exchange our solitude once more for dependence.

The feet never lie. They always tell the truth about our journeys. The natural resilience of youth gives way to the endless accumulations of wear and age. Every burden borne without balance reveals itself in the feet. The soles know pain, carry pain, absorb pain. A foot pain is a clean signal, a stoplight burning red. The truth of it is sometimes learned step by step, sometimes learned the hard way, but we all learn it. Every step of a journey is checked and approved by the feet.

The feet never lie. This is the truth a runner knows. One day, I responded to their pain. I understood the path I was on and sought a new way forward. I adjusted my stride and improved my balance. The feet that had once unevenly worn down my sneakers came together again. I found new ground for my footprints.

My improvement allowed me to run through new weather conditions. I was no longer thrown off balance by the wind or the rain. I grew to enjoy running in the snow. The best time to run in the snow is at the start of a storm. At the start, the wind is cold but calm. The day is like any other and everywhere is within range. Each step forward is one beat closer to the unknown destination.

One day, the snow started and I ran. It invaded the cold stillness in a soft flutter. I zipped through the solitary flakes and floated over the dry ground. I left no trace of my presence. The snow shrank into the ground and disappeared, embarrassed by its early arrival. As I ran on, the snow started to stick, started to forge connections, started to establish new ground. Each step hit the ground a little harder and each stride met with a little more resistance than the last. The snow’s relentless accumulation cut off my options, threw me off balance, and forewarned of the end. My path became the evidence of a fruitless struggle. As the initial possibility gave way to a bleak reality, I took the hint that maybe it was time to get back home, to return to where I belonged, to where my feet are always the first to arrive and the last to leave.

As the end approached, a sudden idea came to mind. My feet were telling me something and I slowed, stopped. I turned around to look back at my feet, at my path, at my footprints. The snow continued to fall as I gazed on my footprints, each step bearing witness to where I’d just been moments before, each depression slowly filling with fresh flakes. I doubled back alongside my path, forging a new trail, a second line tracing a parallel to the first.

I crouched low to ground as if I were about to crawl again. I studied my own footprints. They were, as I’d hoped, good enough, each footprint even and balanced, leaving the same impression on every step of my path. I’d left my mark, a set of footprints in the snow, a fleeting moment of enough on a long journey home.

the library flu clinic

Back when I was little, a kid who sat on the couch all day and played video games or watched TV was called a couch potato. I wouldn’t say this was a fashionable thing to say – especially if the kid in question was overweight – but I’m confident this was a popular enough parenting technique based on all the friends I have now who report being accused of such a thing at one time or another during their childhoods.

Now, a double standard came into play if the kid was reading. A kid who read on the couch all day rarely got any grief. I suppose adults considered reading too important an activity to openly compare a reading child to a vegetable.

This isn't the only double standard I've noticed when it comes to reading. Another example comes in the context of hygiene. I know, for example, how it is considered important to wash my hands whenever I leave the bathroom (1). I understand why this is the case. But I’m never encouraged to wash up after a chapter of reading.

Think about it - surely, my hands after I read library books are dirty? Most of these books have been in circulation long enough to pass through multiple sets of hands. I bet some of these books have even gone into the bathroom for a little bit of reading while… well, you know what, reader. Everyone talks about how filthy the support poles and hand-rungs of public transit are; when I read on the train, I touch those poles and rungs first, then hold my book. Transit-ive property, anyone?

It’s possible I’m on to something big here, reader. In a world where we worry about swine flu and carry pocket-sized bottles of hand sanitizer, perhaps I’ve discovered yet another benefit to getting all my books out of the library: free immunity. Every book I read is like a booster shot!

So, to those of you out there who struggle with colds or sniffles or whatever, my recommendation is to read. And not just read anything: read library books. Read the oldest, dirtiest volumes you can find. Slow, constant exposure is the only way to build up the immune system.

For the truly desperate, don’t mess around with Twain or Dickens or Austen: go straight to the children’s room, find every Curious George book you can, and start reading. By the time your fingers are bleeding from turning so many pages, you will have accumulated all the disease-repelling power imparted on these books from the snot-nosed, spittle-spraying sneeze-machines that usually spend their free time engrossed in the monkey’s irrelevant adventures.

Footnotes / something I'll probably never do in my entire life

1. I'll probably find out next week why this happens...

Reader, some people are so concerned about hygiene that they wash their hands before going to the bathroom. I'm still figuring that one out.

aesop’s fables, remastered

Longtime readers will recall my position that the moral of the famous ‘Tortoise and Hare’ story could use some improvement. Instead of ‘slow and steady wins the race’, we could maybe try ‘fast and steady’ or even “don’t nap during a race”.

As it turns out, this was not the only fable with a questionable moral (1). I figured it couldn’t hurt for me to try and help Aesop out a little bit and offer up an improved moral when I could do so. A handful of my attempts are below.

'The Fisherman Who Played The Flute' – a fisherman tries to lure his catch by playing a flute. He gets nothing. Then, he throws a net into the water and pulls out many fish. When they wriggle on the ground, he yells at them about not dancing to the music.

Moral: Some people always do things at the wrong moment.

Uhhh…what?

My thoughts:

1. How does the fisherman know the fish weren’t dancing underwater? It seems like that would be a great time (and place) to dance.

2. Obviously, he knew enough to use the net.

TYC: Some people don’t know how to fish.

'The Fox and the Billy-Goat' – a fox falls into a well and gets stuck. He then tricks a billy-goat into coming down into the well for a drink. When the goat’s thirst is quenched, they agree to help each other out of the well. The fox gets out, then walks away, telling the goat “you should have thought of how you’d get out before you went in.”

Moral: Always examine the end result before taking action.

Ridiculous. There are several reasoning flaws in this story but the ‘end result’ idea isn’t among them. Obviously, the fox didn’t examine anything and it worked out just fine. The goat did think of a way out, he just got stabbed in the back by the fox. Stories like this encourage victim blaming and glorify an ‘every goat for himself’ mentality.

TYC: The fox is an f’ing asshole.

'The North Wind and The Sun' – the title characters have a contest to see who could get a traveler to take off his clothes. The North Wind goes first – he blows and blows, causing the man to simply wrap the clothing tighter to his body with each gust.

Then, The Sun shines brightly. As the man starts to sweat, the clothes come off. Eventually, The Sun shines so brightly that the man strips naked and jumps into a river to cool off.

Moral: Persuasion is more effective than violence.

What the hell? What could be more violent than trying to fry someone with ultraviolet rays? If I gave someone skin cancer, I sure wouldn't be described as 'persuasive'. The sun is a violent sociopath who should probably be locked up.

TYC: Dictating the way others use their bodies is violent.

Footnotes / Aesop's rocky calculus

1. It’s just math, folks.

This isn’t a dig at Aesop – with over 358 fables, he was bound to get a moral wrong here and there. These aren't criticisms, just observations!

i’m looking forward to being the crazy guy with TV

The way we all watch TV is in the process of a permanent shift. For decades, the standard setup was to plug the TV into the wall, hit a big red button, and stare at whatever was on. This may remain the most common setup at the moment but I don’t think it will last much longer. I think the standard setup of the future will mirror today's trend - a direct link to the internet with more selectivity in terms of channels and programs. A lot of people my age seem to already do this and it appears like the trend is headed this way for the tech-savvy or affluent outside of my age bracket. Eventually, everyone will catch on.

Why am I so sure this trend is going to stick? Well, it seems like the people who are already doing this now are not switching back to the old setup. This is often a good indicator of a permanent shift – do the new users switch back? The ‘cord-cutters’ aren’t gluing their cords back together, reader.

Thinking about all of this the other day, I realized something – I’ll probably be one of the last people around with the ‘old-school’ TV setup. There will be a day in the future, reader, when it won't just be unusual to have a TV run by a remote control that shows you only what some TV exec decided should be on – it will be widely regarded as crazy. I guess what I’m saying is that when that day comes, I’ll be among the crazy people.

What I’m thinking about here is how in the face of the unstoppable tide of the digital age, there is an endless list of things going on that ignores the seductive promises of apps and rejects the alleged convenience of the ever-present internet connection. These days, it seems like we all play games, order delivery, or read newspapers online. But if you look closely, there is very definitely a world out there where people play board games, pickup their own takeout, or spend a couple bucks on The Boston Globe. These little routines have survived the shift to digital for complex reasons and I don’t think they are permanently going up to the cloud anytime soon.

Let’s consider the example of the record player. Surely, it would be better to pay for a streaming service and listen to anything at anytime rather than being limited to a predetermined set of albums. Plus, doesn’t it cost more money to own and buy records? And yet, record players don’t seem to be going anywhere – if anything, they seem more popular now than they were two decades ago.

Or, how about the landline? The news ten years ago was that the landline was over. And yet, here we are in 2018 and I’ve yet to handle any kind of work call on something other than a landline. It doesn't seem very hard for a company to get everyone a cell phone for work purposes – so why does every desk at my current job still have a landline?

I think the answer is really simple – the best things stick around until something better comes along. They might not necessarily remain dominant forever but this usually happens when the attributes that make something ‘best’ move from a primary to a secondary concern (which is basically what the internet did to almost everything). The record players in my friend’s living rooms aren’t a special kind of statement – they just play better-sounding music than what we might hear via a streaming service. It works the same way with the phone because calls made from a landline just work better than those made on a mobile. When the internet ushers in ways to play higher quality music than a record player or make more reliable phone calls than the landline, those ‘old school’ methods will probably disappear as a result. Until then, though, the only people switching are those who value something other than the highest quality music or the most reliable phone connections. That's still an awful lot of people but on a planet of seven billion it leaves plenty of folks to chat on their landlines about their most recent record purchase.

When will the quality offered by the internet catch up to the quality offered by mainstays like the record player or the landline? It might never happen. When restaurants started offering delivery, it probably seemed obvious to some observers that takeout would end. Who would waste time and money going to the restaurant when it was now possible to sit on the couch and wait? And yet, here we are in 2018 and I know some people who haven’t ordered delivery in years. The last time I ordered delivery was when I was on crutches. I think what’s happening is that though delivery offers some very real advantages in terms of costs or time, it doesn’t do anything for the people who like going for short walks to do things. Is it possible to run into a familiar face or two while sitting on the couch waiting for delivery? The benefits of delivery are real but to suggest everyone gets the same benefit out of delivery or weighs all factors in the same way ignores the many different criteria people have for valuing their own time.

A similar thought applies to written content. Who would ever read a book when it is so much easier to pull up a file online? The catch is, I think if the book were invented today, it would be considered a massive accomplishment. The book would solve all the problems of the e-reader. I don’t think that means the book would replace the internet as the medium of choice for reading. However, it would certainly appeal to a group of readers who were frustrated with the problems of the e-reader and ready to try something that didn’t need to be charged, wouldn’t break if you dropped it, or wasn’t going to interrupt you with a notification about your cousin’s most recent post to Facebook.

I think the main reason people still have standard TV is that TV brings a higher quality service than the current internet-based options. The internet-based options have the edge in many ways (primarily selection) and their limitations are mostly hardware based - these factors suggest it will eventually become the societal norm for TV connection. However, I’ve never streamed something like a live sporting event over the internet and said – wow, this is better than watching it on TV! At best, I’ve noted it was more convenient to be able to pull up the show wherever I wanted on a laptop. But a better quality experience? I'll take NBC on the telly over the streaming on the laptop every time.

I’m not sure the internet-based setup will ever become better than the standard setup. It certainly isn’t a guarantee. I’m no expert on the details here but my intuition suggests the antenna, cable, or satellite setups that currently deliver standard TV have an advantage on the internet-based streaming setups. I’m sure the internet-based setups will improve in quality over time but the same logic was in place a decade ago when comparing the landline to the cell phone. My guess is that the standard TV setup will remain a superior option in terms of quality for a far longer time than we predict today. As long as this remains the case, I expect my future will involve some version of the way TV is delivered today. It just doesn’t seem like I’ll consider it worth having TV in the future unless I know I’m getting the best possible delivery of it.

i read aesop's fables so you don't have to

Aesop's Fables by Aesop (May 2018)

These fables are likely familiar to you, reader, for Aesop’s Fables is perhaps the most well known piece of literature from Greek antiquity. In fact, they’ve been translated and rewritten in so many formats that I had a hard time finding a suitable adult copy (1).

The copy I ended up reading contained 358 fables. Aesop generally used animal characters to observe and comment on the consequences of common human behavior. Each fable was structured in a similar way – a character or two is introduced, there is an exchange or interaction of some kind, and a moral summarizes the lesson. Outside of the morals, there wasn’t much I could pull from my reading in terms of direct insights into human nature. However, a couple of patterns did emerge over the course of these stories.

One theme considered the cynical extensions of what it would mean if someone repeated their present behavior when they encountered similar circumstances in the future. What does it mean, for example, if as a newcomer to a group you are treated very well by the members? I suppose the key is to consider what might happen when the next newcomer arrives – will your good treatment continue or will the next newcomer simply become the object of pampering? As Aesop himself points out, identity is a product of repeated action.

Another common theme rejected the hierarchy of instigators. Playing a trumpet is far less threatening than instigating a fight – unless the situation involves a trumpeter leading an army into battle. In this case, Aesop saw the musician as guilty as anyone else who took up arms.

The fables also frequently used evidence of past behavior to question the validity of a representation. In the way debtors who borrow the wealth of others can often appear more impressive than their assets, people who predict the future often appear to know more than the average observer. These people should be asked about their past predictions and, if any of them failed, challenged to provide some kind of explanation.

One consistent type of moral warned the generous from being too easy with their giving. These morals often did not resonate with me and perhaps this points to the underlying lesson of Aesop’s Fables as a whole. Since Aesop’s time, daily life has changed a great deal. Although both Western and ancient Greek society share an aspect of brutality and violence, in the West there is at least an expectation of kindness and courtesy to those we meet in the street.

Footnotes / the tortoise orders a pizza from the hare

0. A hint for serious readers - ALWAYS find the Penguin Classics edition...

Before I found the Penguin Classics edition, I went through a number of other editions that just were not what I was looking for (including a picture book aimed at preschoolers and a translation written in the same style I would have expected of a parody Sir Lancelot autobiography – ye olde tortoise this, the hare sleepeth that…).

1. No, not that kind of adult, you fool…

Given all the different versions I encountered in my book search, it wouldn’t surprise me at all to learn there is some kind of pornographic version of these fables out there.

leftovers - the cancer journals (riffs, part 2)

Hi again,

Today’s post is the final one based on Audre Lorde’s Cancer Journals. These thoughts are, like from Saturday, some of my comments on specific ideas I liked from the book.

Living requires teaching and speaking the things we know beyond our own understanding.

Take this one literally at your own risk, reader. However, dismiss it at your own risk as well – those unable to work well with what they do not fully understand cannot live beyond the borders of their defined world.

I think this applies not just to ideas but also to other people. It’s worth regularly asking how we interact with people we don’t understand yet know something about. Do we interact with them based on terms we understand – what they do, who they know, where they’ve been, and so on? Or do we interact with a fresh perspective, hang in there when our obvious differences make us a little uncomfortable, and trust our intuition, instinct, and shared humanity to guide us forward?

Our biggest fears manifest when we take steps to avoid engaging with others on terms of difference or mortality.

As I pointed out above – there are some things we know beyond our own understanding. For me, this is one of them. I can’t quite explain this statement but I know it’s very important.

The key word might be manifest – by focusing on shared characteristics or refusing to interact over topics of mortality, we bring about the very things we fear most.

The genius brings his or her whole self to whatever is going on at the time.

This fits nicely into a definition of creativity I’ve highlighted in the past on TOA – creativity means finding hidden connections and associations among unrelated things. Genius defined in this way is a form of creativity on the personal level. Anyone who brings the whole self to a given moment has found a way to relate parts of the self that others might consider unrelated.

As it relates to those earlier ideas, this thought suggests a creative genius in a social setting is someone capable of forging connections with anybody.

The price to pay for identifying yourself with authority is self-examination and self-disclosure.

This sounds about right to me. Even within this self-protected bubble of TOA, I sometimes feel the price is pretty steep.

A person who discloses without self-examination has plenty of identity but very little authority. This type of person might have a lot of experience to share, for example, and we can come to view such a person in the context of those experiences – a person is a traveler, a professor, an importer/exporter, or whatever – but a person who does these things would really need to do a lot of it to become an authority on the matter. It is also hard to say such a person can be understood through these experiences. What do we learn about anyone based solely on all the things they’ve done?

This person could eventually develop authority through rigorous study or significant experience. A PhD in any field or a decorated career professional has the kind of authority that comes to mind when we use the term. Again, though, there is something incomplete without the self-examination. When retirement age arrives, the basis of the authority goes with it. The benefit of building up authority through self-examination is that the self is ever, and forever, present.

Self-examination without disclosure results in a lot of authority with a lack of identity. Others often find these people surprising. At best, they might be described as eccentric or even unconventional. At worst, the description tends to include a form of the word ‘rebellion’. The root cause of the problem is the same in both the best and worst cases – since nobody ever gets to know the person in question, everybody feels free to jump to their own conclusions.

The distortion that results from too much introspection without the balance of disclosure is a lot like the convinced referee who doesn’t quite understand the sport – the whistle gets blown a lot but nobody can explain why the referee is so sure about the call. The answer to the question is somewhat obvious – just have the referee explain the sport – but when the game is underway there isn’t much time for such disclosure.

how to answer a yes/no question

Long ago, I read an article sharing writing tips the author 'stole' from Chuck Klosterman (1). Like any set of tips (except steak tips, obviously) I thought a few were good and a few were ignorable. The one I remembered for the longest time was his recommendation to learn how to interview someone. "It's a lost art," he said, or something like that.

Originally, I thought he meant writers were no longer doing enough of the standard 'Q&A' to cultivate these skills on the job. But I realized about a year ago that I may have been mistaken. What he (may have) meant was how most people by default did a terrible job at answering questions. Therefore, someone who wanted to get questions answered (like, say, a budding writer) would need to learn how to get someone to actually answer a question.

The exact moment of my realization came while I was reading a short story. A dialogue left me confused because I could not decide if it was either very realistic or completely implausible. I don't remember the specifics from the short story so I'll make up an example here just to illustrate my point:

A: Can you get lunch on Friday?

B: You know I have to work, right?

A: Well, I was just wondering if you wanted to go during your break, I mean.

Here's another made-up example:

C: Hey, can you pass me the salt?

D: I don't see it anywhere.

C: Can you check behind the pepper?

D: There's nothing behind the pepper.

These two fake conversations look perfectly normal to me except for this - not one of the four questions actually gets answered.

After reading the dialogue scene, I began paying more attention to how people spoke with one another. I was surprised, to a degree, when I understood how realistic the dialogue turned out to be (though I must admit, what was I expecting? Authors of short stories tend to know these things). In most conversations, people simply make assumptions, blow past each other's questions and... everyone understands this as perfectly normal.

Why is this strange phenomenon so normal? I have some theories. In the examples above, simply answering the question might have shut the discussion down. A 'no' to the lunch invitation might dissuade speaker A from exploring further ways to make the schedule work. And a 'no' in the salt example might be misinterpreted by speaker C as a refusal or inability to pass the salt when the root cause of the refusal was a logistical issue.

But I don't think this is a good thing, either. The dialogues above are loaded with possible assumptions that might lead one party to... assume... some negative intent from the other. In the first example, A assumes B is careless with remembering the details of a work schedule and responds in a way that might make B assume A is disinterested in finding a mutually convenient time for lunch. The latter examples starts with C assuming D is going to pass the salt once it is located but if the salt is in plain sight then D might assume C is not paying very close attention to the meal and, therefore, isn't going to pay very close attention to the conversation, either.

In striking a balance between asking questions and making assumptions, I would lean toward the former. Conversations might become more stilted but I'd prefer that to the possibly corrosive results of an erroneous assumption. And of course, it doesn't have to be one or the other. It's easy enough to just answer the question first and take care of everything else later.

Perhaps the only firm exception is if you are writing a dialogue scene. In that case, it's probably best to recognize a basic truth about life - an actual answer to any question is a rare thing indeed.

Footnotes / utter rubbish

0. Most job interview questions are loaded with assumptions...

Some of what I rattle on about explored in this post explains why I went through so many lousy job interviews. For many, interviewing is something they get sucked into. Those untrained or uninterested will likely approach the interview as they do a regular conversation.

This is a problem because during interviews answering the question is the only important thing while in conversation it is a barely relevant consideration. A person who asks questions yet is accustomed to not having them actually answered will ask questions that demand the other make certain assumptions in order to respond without seeming like a complete social outcast. This is not an acceptable recipe for a good job interview (and might explain why someone wary of this pitfall will fill job interviews with strange hypothetical or comparative questions).

1. Huh?

As in, Klosterman emailed the tips to the author without intending them to be published and the author... you can just read the story here.

leftovers - the cancer journals (riffs, part 1)

Hi all,

Today, I’ll riff on some thoughts I didn’t address in last week’s reading review of Audre Lorde’s Cancer Journals.

For some, the second day after an injury, a surgery, or even a loss can be euphoric. It is usually downhill from there.

This was a really interesting insight. I think it speaks to how quickly we bounce back from the lowest point yet take a very long time to return to a previous equilibrium.

I remember the day I sprained my ankle – I could barely stand up. The next day, I left the hospital with crutches and a boot. This was fantastic – I could move around again! But fantastic... relative to when? The day before? The week before?

By the time I reached my sixth week on crutches, I was feeling about as low as I’d felt on the day I was injured.

A hospital’s blankness is an advantage in how it allows us to remain emotionally vacant in an environment that rarely demands we do much more.

Considering all the problems hospitals solve – broken bones, major abrasions, and a host of conditions that most patients would otherwise die from – it is quite a feat that they still manage to get a generally bad rap. The fact that many people hate hospitals is a little strange on the surface (and I can’t imagine how bizarre this feeling would seem to someone coming from a place where medical care was really poor).

However, I have lived here long enough to understand the sentiment. I think this point about ‘hospital blankness’ gets at one angle. People like routines and generally prefer the status quo – however, they don’t want too much of it! The hospital mentality is so singularly focused on reversing the body's most common breakdowns that it must stamp out all signs of variation and unpredictability. This means the controlled spontaneity that contributes so much to emotional wellness often goes by the wayside and, with it, the possibility of those little moments of good feeling that come around anytime familiar people interact together with the slightly unpredictable. Even a cat that moves once or twice an hour introduces a world of spontaneity to an otherwise mundane space. But in a world rightfully ruled by the balance between successful recovery and short lengths of stay, each moment a hospital employee loses to distraction is a moment possibly lost elsewhere in terms of a missed diagnosis, poor treatment, or substandard care.

The problem of the prosthetic is a lot like the eye patch. The difference is how it is perceived. Those with the eye patch are never encouraged to get a prosthetic. It is often function, not appearance that drives the need toward prosthetics. A prosthetic with no functional component will hinder recovery.

This was an insight I liked and agreed with. However, I could easily play the other side of this debate as well – for many, maintaining an unchanged appearance is a functional component and often an important part of the recovery process. The question is currently framed as prosthetic OR no prosthetic – perhaps the better approach looks at it as prosthetic AND no prosthetic.

Spirituality must lend or create energy. If the energy is sapped, it is a false belief system.

This sounds suspiciously like my admin argument – if the spirituality creates extra admin, it is probably a false belief.

To demand people seek ‘joy’ rather than healthy food or clean air is perhaps a cousin of victim blaming. Unhappiness is not a condition to reverse through sheer force of will but rather one to sort out by identifying and addressing the root causes.

I recall coming across this idea in a couple of places before I started reading and I suspect this is among the most frequently quoted ideas from The Cancer Journals.

The thought makes me think about the way people will dismiss rather than admit the things they know little about. This doesn’t mean suggesting that someone ‘look on the bright side’ is a problematic approach. It just means that it must be clear how forced optimism isn’t a solution but rather a band-aid. If we become too accustomed to smiling our way through pain, eventually we’ll get good at it. One day we’ll become experts, and it won’t occur to us anymore that we are actually in pain.

maybe it's time to get a pacifier

Friends of mine used to live in Roslindale, a neighborhood located about forty-five minutes southwest of my address in Beacon Hill. I often made the trip with another friend who lived in Central Square (Cambridge). The route always started the same way - we would meet somewhere downtown and ride the Orange Line to Forest Hills. The end of the trip would vary, however, depending on our selection among multiple bus connections.

On one such trip, we rode the 34E bus. This was a first. We boarded and sat in the sideways-facing seats by the front of the bus. Across from us on the right hand side sat a man in the only other sideways-facing seat. He looked at us and said hello as we sat. The driver started the bus and my friend took out his phone to keep track of the stops on the unfamiliar route.

I got the sense the man across from us was preparing to say something. I have a decent radar for this sort of thing, no doubt honed over many years of daily transit use. Some people just seem like they are on the bus solely to talk to other passengers. These people tend to spend a lot of time looking around and their glances always linger a second longer than those of their fellow travelers. There is nothing to do in these situations but to wait.

Finally, he spoke. "So, you got your pacifier out, do you?" The comment wasn't directed at me.

My friend looked up. "Huh?"

The man pointed at the phone. "Your pacifier." He didn't appear especially impressed with his own cleverness - this was just an observation.

My friend showed him the screen. "I'm just keeping track of the bus stops." The conversation paused for a few seconds. The topic of our destinations came up and, from there, we learned a little more about this man; where he was from, what he liked about his new shoes, his time in the military, what he knew about Norwood (our hometown). Our stop came and we got up to leave.

"See you next time," I said as I walked by. He nodded as we stepped onto the curb.

I've wondered a few times since that day - is comparing the smart phone to a pacifier a good analogy? I don't have a great sense of the answer. I can certainly see where the comparison is coming from and this particular bus ride wasn't the first time I've heard it made. But I think in this case it was a little strange to hear the comparison from someone doing more or less what a baby does before mama gets the pacifier out: generating a lot of noise that nobody asked for and getting the attention of strangers minding their own business in public.

reading review - the cancer journals

The Cancer Journals by Audre Lorde (March 2018)

Audre Lorde’s 1980 account of living with breast cancer is a powerful voice that details trauma's empty aftermath with insight and wisdom. Her firm belief that feelings without voice cannot be put to use shines through with each word and her writing is pure encouragement for those struggling to do the same with their own secret fears.

This book is so valuable because Lorde practices what she preaches throughout the work. From her point of view, a survivor has a unique opportunity to become a teacher. The perspective and insight gained through trauma can be infinitely valuable to others who are struggling to reconcile their own experiences. If a survivor can be supported and encouraged to share the story of the experience, the entire world will surely benefit. Lorde’s book is one example of the many ways a survivor can do this; instead of merely enduring a difficult time, she became an expert on the matter and shared her understanding with as many others as possible through writing, speaking, and teaching.

Of course, this is far easier said than done. Trauma has a way of rendering the simplest tasks impossible. I can relate to those who report being unable to remember anything about the time after a traumatic event. I can also understand the feeling of being unable to think clearly in the weeks and months after such an event. As Lorde points out in The Cancer Journals, the practical challenges of living post-trauma are often overwhelming enough to justify putting off the emotional work for a later time. Anyone playing a support role for a trauma victim will do well to keep this in mind – the sooner the practical challenges are overcome, the faster a survivor can move on to the work needed to face a new self in the mirror every morning.

One up: Reader, there were actually too many good remaining ideas to list in this one space. So, look for a follow up post shortly where I review more of the insights from this book.

For today, I’ll highlight how much I liked the idea that the way to fight prejudice is not for the minority to pretend they are the majority. I’ve been doing some (probably misguided) thinking lately about how we still seem to reserve taking offense to those in the victim’s racial (or religious, or ethnic, and so on) peer group. If we onlookers became able to share the feeling of hurt and outrage experienced by a victim instead of merely settling for being disturbed or uncomfortable in such situations, I think the tide in the battle against prejudice would permanently shift in a much-needed direction toward shared feeling and experience.

One down: Lorde explores how we prioritize the physical over the spiritual in various ways throughout this work. One example was the prosthetic. For Lorde, the prevalence of prosthetics reinforces society’s script for body image. It also sends a subtle message that addressing the emotional pain associated with losing a body part matters far less than restoring the sum total of outward appearance.

At its worst interpretation, this is a statement about how a focus on the physical is used to reduce or dismiss the needs of the spirit. By reframing the complex problem of emotional loss into a simple mechanical issue of restoring a missing part, we are able to move on with a sense of completeness despite failing to address another’s need. A more positive view would suggest that we all want to help but many find it easier to help with the physical rather than the emotional.

Just saying: Sooner or later, Lorde says, what we fear speaking about will kill us. The thought is not entirely literal, of course, but the way we avoid the sick or damaged as if they are contagious stems from a reluctance to speak openly about certain illnesses. In trying to protect others through a well-intended silence, we subtly reinforce the untouchable status of the sick and isolate the spirit at the exact moment it needs connection.

american idol is just how the singing industry works, right?

There is nothing quite like a simple explanation that reveals an underlying absurdity. I have a friend who has a special knack for crafting such explanations.

My favorite example was about The Contender, an NBC show which followed various boxers as they competed among themselves in a pseudo-tournament for an eventual grand prize. My friend pointed out that since boxing is a sport where people fight each other in a pseudo-tournament for an eventual grand prize, any reality show structured in the same way is not much different than 'just boxing'. Therefore, if the reality show was 'just boxing', then why would people watch it more than boxing, a sport that no one watched to begin with? NBC cancelled the show after two months (1).

I experienced a similar moment recently myself when hearing a discussion about how self-crashing cars might change the morning commute. One comment pointed out how cars ('pods') could pick up small numbers of people (perhaps between three and six) and zip them off to work in the morning. The same process would bring people back in the evening.

At this point, I started to wonder - how was this different from a small bus? I'm sure the answer is simple - it isn't. For whatever reason, though, this type of system doesn't exist yet, and I have a hunch the big obstacle has nothing to do with the bus drivers that would be replaced by the magical, mythical self-crashing car.

Footnotes / endnote

0. One more for the sports fans...

I noted a similar moment last year while listening to a soccer podcast. The debate was about 'goal line technology', an idea being piloted in the sport to help referees determine if the ball went over the goal line in certain situations. One co-host pointed out how calling this 'technology' obscured the underlying truth that the 'technology' involved was basically a pretty good camera, something that's been around for decades.

1. Well, technically, I'm right...

To be fair, the show did get picked up by ESPN for a couple of additional seasons.

But ESPN was already airing boxing, so... right?

leftovers (well, outtakes, really) - the argonauts

Reader, you may be wondering why it took me until the summer to start posting my thoughts about a book I read in December. I, too, often wonder this (1).

One rather flattering hypothesis suggests that I have so many interesting things to write about that what lesser writers would consider ‘time sensitive’ pieces tend to end up on the backburner (2). These reading reviews proved no exception – in fact, some would argue they proved both sides of the coin (3).

However, in the case of these reviews, I think what happened is that I wrote in so many different directions that I often lost the main thread of reviewing the book. No matter – but the process of reintegrating these ideas forced some extra work in terms of organizing the final posts. And extra work, of course, means delayed posts.

What I have for today is a little treat for you, reader. It is a list of some thoughts I ended up removing from the final posts about the book. For some unknown reason, they all have something to do with math. And I think, if taken all together in this format, you will get a good sense of what a chaotic process writing anything actually is.

Enjoy, patient reader.

Let's start with a bad math joke.

Why?

No, X...

Well, this is more about counting…

One of the wild tangents I got into during these posts led me to this little gem of a quip:

Must I judiciously remind the reader of the three strikes law? This law uses (or at least references) FUCKING BASEBALL – aka, the world’s whitest sport until 1947 (and perhaps still is thanks to its huge lead) – and its arbitrary rule governing strikeouts to bury mostly black people into the deepest recesses of the legal system. Does Brazil use a ‘two yellow cards’ law to legally discriminate against its citizens?

Luckily, I was able to reformat that outburst into a more coherent post.

Somehow, I thought the following number-crunching was related to The Argonauts…

At one point in these posts, I wrote about some book I read in fifth grade:

The first reading memory I have that threw off my understanding of ‘when life starts’ was a novel about a ten-year old Chinese immigrant named Shirley Temple Wong. One of the hidden details in this story is how Shirley presents herself as ten but is in fact closer to being eight. This comes from the system used in her homeland to calculate age – she was one at birth and becomes a year older on every New Year’s Day.

Got it, reader? No?

Let’s use a quick example. I was born on December 28. In the birthday system we all use today, I turned one on the first December 28 after my birth. In the system described for Shirley Temple Wong, I would have turned one at birth and two on the next New Year’s Day. When the first December 28 after my birth rolled around, I would be two (and just about to turn three). If I were in Shirley Temple Wong’s position, I would have been almost two years younger than my classmates just by using a different birthday system. And even in the best case scenario - a January 1 birthday - I would still be a year younger than my classmates.

Is this birthday system any more or less logical than mine? It doesn’t seem very logical and yet, it is hard to argue with the thinking. I suppose in some cases a thought process is ‘logical’ to the extent that someone else uses the same thought process as me.

Must we use math to explain abortion?

No. This was just a stray thought that I'm admitting to having at some point in the last six months. That's as far as it got, though. Even I know that just because math is a hammer does not mean every controversial topic is a nail.

QED…

Still, I did write a little more about math in other contexts. At one point, I wagged my finger at the false assurances provided by the subject itself…

When a math person needs to solve a problem, he or she usually says “let’s solve for x.” But this isn’t always as clear as the plan indicates. It implies, for one, that all problems have one and only one solution.

Some math problems have multiple solutions. Others have no solutions.

You can see why some people hate math, right?

Footnotes / the editor responds to some of the ridiculous thoughts from this post

1. Wonder what?

Editor’s note: the posts are late because TOA is woefully disorganized, inherently lazy, and often distracted by his aimless alter ego(s).

2. Where are these so-called interesting pieces?

Editor’s note: a hypothesis is often disproved.

3. Who is arguing this?

Editor’s note: those familiar with the basic judicial process will recall that in each case there is a losing argument.

some thoughts from the argonauts that I may or may not have had myself – part three

Hello reader!

Please see below for the final idea I ‘may or may not have thought about’ from The Argonauts.

Thanks for reading.

Tim

What are the bare truths about abortion? It’s a choice and a child? Perhaps the crux of the issue is that sometimes we humans choose death.

Sometimes, people choose death… not an original thought, for sure, but one that I think I’d always just glossed over. When I came across it in this most recent reread of The Argonauts, I paused and finally thought it through.

The thought of choosing death lurks in the background of my hospice experiences. Some would argue that this choice is the start of the hospice experience, an assertion I understand and agree with generally (1). At some point, a doctor determined a patient had six months or less to live and the patient (or an appointed medical proxy) decided hospice care was the most appropriate course of action given the circumstances.

And yet, despite interacting with so many who are in this process, I find it unusual whenever I interact with those who live comfortably in the shadowy reality of death. And why should they? Reader, here comes a profound statement – death is difficult. Rare is the person able to process death without additional work. It takes a lot of effort to think about death and a lot of personal growth to cultivate the empathy needed to be with another as this work takes place.

The hospice experience is similar to another idea I’ve heard more about recently – doctor-assisted suicide. In these cases, a terminal patient chooses death over the prospect of living through the inevitable decline. This is often considered a good option for those whose symptoms will not respond to pain medicine. As far as I know, this is already allowed in some European countries and in the process of legislative approval in others. (I’m sure readers can guess which American states are currently considering bringing this idea into law.)

As it is with hospice, the discussion around doctor-assisted suicide reveals a profound lesson – death is difficult. I don’t know exactly why this is. Or, I should say, I know why it is, because it is death. I just don’t know how to explain why it is. As with any difficult explanation, I think a large part of the issue is not having the right preparation – I don’t have the right words, I don’t have the right thinking, and I don’t have the right empathy. I’ve seen it happen over and over in hospice situations – families, friends, and even caregivers don’t use the right words, don’t use the right thinking, and don’t use the right empathy. I’ve been there. I’m struck by the same thought whenever I look into the debates going on around the world about doctor-assisted suicide – the discussion doesn’t use the right words, doesn’t use the right thinking, and doesn’t use the right empathy (2).

I don’t think most of us are very well equipped to talk about certain topics. Despite this, we choose, almost recklessly at times, to jump into the conversation and take up a position. I advise against recklessness. I advise against making decisions before gathering all the information because it is reckless, because it does not account for the unknown, because it extends the authority of knowingness to well-meaning but ignorant voices.

When I look at the various deliberations I’ve referenced here – the individual decisions about entering hospice, the legislative conversations about doctor-assisted suicide, and, yes, the general debate about abortion – I’m struck by how reckless the discourse is. To tell someone else what to do with their body, and how, is violent, and just because this violence comes through speech, decrees, or even empathy doesn’t mean it is any different than striking someone with a hand or stomping someone with a foot.

Dismissing violence with ill-advised words denies victims the right today’s societies build their foundations upon - choice. Legislated violence dismisses the basic process of crime and punishment otherwise enforced against those who exert their will over another person. Citing empathy to justify violence means a refusal to acknowledge a violent act for what it is. Someone who has thought through violence doesn’t say – well, I’m against violence, except when – because thinking through violence is the process of erasing the flimsy distinction between conditional acceptance and full support.

Most importantly, violence erodes the trust people have in each other to make the right choices for themselves and their bodies. When this trust is lost, under-informed decisions create division and division creates conflict. And conflict leads to a further erosion of trust…

I don't think there is a special solution to stop the cycle here. But it can’t hurt to at least try and reduce the casual instances of violence going on, right? It can’t hurt to at least try and learn the words, thinking, and empathy that will do this. Or, maybe the approach comes from the other direction – maybe it means no longer using the words, thinking, or empathy that imposes one’s will over another. I think stopping the cycle starts with a simple commitment to stop telling others what to do with their bodies. If we all commit to this approach, to simply doing less of a violent thing, then perhaps we’ll take a step forward to a less violent future.

Footnotes / usually, these are separate posts, but I’d rather just get all my thoughts into one place on this one.

0. Dodging writing about abortion again?

I don't have the right words...

1. I’m worried about victim-blaming here…

I’m not sure if ‘choose’ applies in every hospice case. Some people no longer have the capacity to make decisions about how they receive medical care. It might be accurate to say these patients ‘chose’ hospice in the sense that they may have indicated prior to falling ill what their wishes would be under particular circumstances. But I think these patients ‘choose’ hospice in the same way a captain ‘chooses’ to go down with the ship (or, at least, stand at the back of the line for the last lifeboat).

In other cases, patients give consent. But is this a choice? People who are desperately ill are just like anybody else – they want the best care possible. They might agree to enter hospice, to ‘choose’ hospice if you will, but this is a decision entirely separate from a willingness to live or die. If they thought the choice ‘to live’ was available to them, I’m almost entirely sure they would make this choice.

2. I’m worried about being too lyrical here…

I think this ‘right words, right thinking, right empathy’ device is a better example of writing than thinking. In using the repetition to make the rhythm flow a little better, I might be implying that there is a set of ‘right’ words, thinking, or empathy. There probably isn’t, or at least, there probably isn’t in the way I would scribble down the ‘right’ ingredients for a baked Alaska. But that doesn’t exempt us from seeking out the words, thinking, or empathy that best serves a given situation.

some thoughts from the argonauts that I may or may not have had myself – part two

Today’s post is a semi-continuation of the yesterday's post about The Argonauts... because nothing ever ends around here, right?

Thanks for reading.

Tim

Beyond itself, age brings nothing.

I’ve definitely heard a similar type of thought before – age is just a number, you’re as young as you feel, and so on. But I’ve never taken my line of thinking to this extreme conclusion.

I often hear about experience, the value of experience, the need for experience. And as I look over this thought once more, I can’t help but be reminded of experience. If age brings experience and all its invaluable wisdom, then surely there is at least some functional product of age.

But what is experience? I think it is doing something yourself because the right teacher isn’t available to help. In some cases, I’m all experience; in others, I’ve been taught so well I’m a high-functioning rookie.

Looking back, was it ever worth learning on my own? Was it worth spending all that extra time? Was it worth it just to gain valuable… experience... when the right teacher could have made all the difference? In a certain way, the answer is always yes. But everything takes time and I've been told I don't have an infinite supply of time left.

I think it is vital to teach others what I’ve had to learn on my own. Imparting what little I know to others is my most important work. No matter how limited these students of mine are, they almost always learn much faster from me than I did initially learning the same thing on my own.

This doesn’t mean I think no one should try anything on their own – quite the contrary, reader. Nothing beats a try. But I think we do make a fetish of 'learning from mistakes'. A blind belief in this concept excuses us from stepping into the adhoc teaching opportunities that arise on a daily basis (1). I don't think anyone actually benefits from repeating someone else's mistake – if anything, seeing someone repeat an error is an indictment on the observer and a clear signal that we all need to try a little harder to become better and more willing teachers.

Footnotes / analogies, a failure

1. I suppose it works just like writing...

It took me an hour to write this post and it took you five minutes to read it. Was it worth spending an hour to write something I could have read in five minutes? Would it be worth it to you, reader, to spend the next hour struggling to replicate the pointless thoughts you just read in your own words?

Well, actually…

Maybe it doesn’t work just like writing.

some thoughts from the argonauts that I may or may not have had myself

Howdy,

The starting prompts I’ve listed below represent ideas I’ve given a lot of thought to before that I may or may not have reconsidered after reading The Argonauts.

Good luck to you today, reader. I suspect you will need it.

Tim

Women don’t nod to each other in public like some men do. But women probably also feel less of a need to convey the message – I don’t mean you any harm…

I’ve always been amused by the nodding phenomenon yet never been quite sure what to make of it. I don’t think Nelson’s quote can be universally true – Joan Didion’s thought about the importance of being on ‘nodding terms’ with one’s former selves implies she, at least, nodded every once in a while in someone’s direction. But this wouldn’t be the first instance of Joan Didion being a little unusual and I suspect that Nelson is probably on the right track in a general sense.

I’m also not sure about the violence part. It is staggering to think of all the potential fights I may diffused with my ‘noddin noggin’, is it not, reader? I’d never thought my little head movements were establishing delicate truces with the strangers around me.

Does nodding go on in other countries? If this only happens in America, I can’t agree that this nodding business is a piercing insight into the male condition. I vaguely recall nodding a bit while I was visiting in Japan (but maybe people were just being polite when they nodded back at the idiot from the US) (1). If any of you readers has been in, like, Finland, and can confirm whether people nod at each other, do get in touch, will you?

It is also strange how casually some insist others engage on terms that feel like compromises or distortions to the labeled.

This was perhaps my favorite single thought from The Argonauts. It echoes an observation I’ve noted in several other recent reads – categorization is an inherently violent act. It reminds me of how I feel anytime I’m described as a Japanese-American; I’m initially annoyed by the careless labeling before feeling small and petty for worrying about someone else’s careless use of the tiny little hyphen. If the tongue retained bite marks, my dentist would be able to see the progression of these emotions.

The anti-abortion strategy of separating woman from child – at twenty weeks, at ten, at five – makes it possible to dismiss half of the equation: the woman with rights.

Ah, abortion… just what I’ve always wanted to write about… and just what I'm sure my readers have long been hoping I would write about...

There are many reasons for me NOT to write about abortion, the best of these perhaps being that there is nothing I could possibly say on the topic that has not already been said in a far better way. So, I’ll follow my instincts here and pass on the opportunity.

Instead, I'll refer back to a thought I included in a post back in February - there is no place in the world right now where a woman has the same opportunity as a man. Until this basic fact changes, it won’t matter if the topic is equal pay, the Bechdel test, or abortion law – a closer look will always reveal the mechanisms in place to create the illusion that there is no other alternative but to dismiss the woman with rights.

Footnotes / international incidents…diffused!

1. Wait, who is the idiot from the US?

Me, just in case it was unclear...

For the record, I’d hardly consider my experiences in Japan as good evidence for proof of a worldwide nodding phenomenon. But I can only speak about the experiences I’ve had, right?