Wonderisms

The Fatal Flaw of the Task List

2012-05-24T11:13:00.000-04:00

Readability | Instapaper | Download as .mp3

The to-do list is a fascinating lesson both in human culture and the human brain. Umberto Eco famously proclaimed the list to be the origin of culture itself, and the Ziegarnik effect, which I’ve written about before, details the effect of writing things down on our unconscious minds.

I maintain a to-do list daily, documenting my tasks and goals, carefully trimming and pruning the list to reflect my values, my ambitions, and my priorities. Having the list in front of me is a constant reminder to stay on track- these are the things that I decided were important enough to warrant devoting a block of time to. There’s a certain liberation in putting these tasks on paper- they’re no longer floating in my head, constantly nagging. My mind becomes a bit clearer with every stroke of the pen. The process never fails to bring to mind Benjamin Franklin’s approach to the task list. There seems to be a fundamental problem with my list, however, and until recently, I had no idea what that problem was. As an example, today’s list, is this:

Yoga
Write a Wonderisms piece
Laundry
Treehouse lessons
Queue Sssimpli article
Call T-Mobile (increase roaming data)
Weedeat the lawn
Read at least 3 Readability articles
Read at least 30 pages of Lolita
Journal entry

These are specific items I want to accomplish today, but something’s missing- namely, the most important things in my life- the people I love- are not there.

I need to change that. There is nothing more important, more fulfilling, more worthwhile than simply engaging with the people you love. I recently remarked to someone that “if it’s not on my task list, it won’t get done.” That’s becoming increasingly true, unfortunately.

I’m notoriously awful at returning personal phone calls. Horrendous, in fact. I probably don’t tell the people that I love how much they mean to me as often I should. I write letters to my daughter- words of wisdom (I hope) that I’ll let her read when she’s old enough to grasp them. I’ve written three such letters in the past four months. There are many others who would find it a pleasant surprise to receive a letter from me, or even an email. I should certainly call old friends to catch up more often. Yet I don’t do these things often enough, because I don’t include them on my task list. If my brain recognizes the importance of the list, if by way of the Zeigarnik effect my subconscious recognizes the importance of a task by the fact that it’s written down, why do I not include the most vital elements of my well-being- people- in my list of priorities?

Starting today, I will. My list will more fully encompass the things I want to do, and I will, no doubt, be a more thankful person for it. I must be careful, of course, not to let the list dominate my life- there are times when the list must be discarded in favor of the unplanned, the spontaneous. When my daughter wants me to read her a book, I will drop the list. When a friend calls me up for some good conversation over a cup of coffee, the list can wait. When the morning is too gorgeous not to wander aimlessly in it for awhile, I will succumb to its allure. The list is very adaptable, since it’s you who holds the pencil (and the eraser on the other end). Mold it, bend it, shape it to your will, and by no means should you become a slave to it. But the list has many, many advantages, and can be a crucial tool to accomplishing your personal and professional goals. Just make sure it truly represents all of the things you want to accomplish.

Announcing a New Wonderisms Experience

2012-05-17T18:42:00.001-04:00

I decided not to write a new piece for Wonderisms today. Instead, I focused on making a couple of enhancements to the site. The result is, I believe, an improved experience for my readers, but I’ll let you be the judge of that.

The first thing you’ll notice is there are a few links at the top of my last post, On Context. The first is Readability interaction. Clicking on the link will convert the current post into Readability’s easy-to-read format, from which you can save the post to your Readability queue, send the post directly to your Kindle, and a few other options (all of which require a Readability account). The second link is Instapaper integration. Clicking the link will simply add the current post to your Instapaper reading list (which- you guessed it- requires an Instapaper account.

The third option is to download the post as an .mp3 file. This might seem like an odd feature, so I’ll tell you how it came about. Every Thursday, a very dear friend of mine calls to catch up on the week’s happenings. Occasionally, she has had time throughout the week to read my posts, and we discuss them at some length. If she hasn’t had a chance to read them, I read them to her. On one occasion, she remarked on how much more enjoyable the experience of having the posts read to her was(as opposed to reading them on the site).

So there you go. You can now download posts in .mp3 format, if you so choose.

The other change is a bit all-inclusive. If you click the “subscribe” button at the top of the page, you’ll be redirected to the bottom of my site, where you have three options to subscribe: via RSS, via email, and now via podcast. The podcast is simply an automated feed of all posts containing an afore-mentioned .mp3 file. So, if you do prefer to listen via audio, you can now subscribe in your favorite podcast player and listen on your desktop, on your phone, etc, in your favorite podcast client. Note that I’m waiting on iTunes approval, and how long that process will take is anybody’s guess. The most exciting aspect of the podcast is that it may entice me to experiment with formats more conducive to an audio experience.

Since I must attach the files to each individual post, it may take some time before I get all of the archives into audio format. I haven’t quite decided how to do that yet- perhaps I’ll post one new “From the Archives” bit each week along with the regular, current posts.

Also note that the method I’m using for this format is not exactly standard- it took some creative know-how to get everything up and running, and I may have made a mistake here or there. If you notice one of them, please let me know so I can fix it as promptly as possible.

That’s it. Thanks, everyone, and happy reading.

On Context

2012-05-15T10:55:00.000-04:00

Readability | Instapaper | Download as .mp3

Close both eyes; see with the other one. Then we are no longer saddled by the burden of our persistent judgments, our ceaseless withholding, our constant exclusion. Our sphere has widened and we find ourselves quite unexpectedly in a new expansive location, in a place of endless acceptance and infinite love.

~ Gregory Boyle

Context can be a remarkable thing. It is the shadow that adds subtlety to the shape of the world. It is a capability too many of us neglect, and it is a flower easily wilted if not cared for.

Context is the enemy of judgment; where context resides, empathy ensues, and empathy is perhaps the most human of all emotions.

I’ve written before of the power of reading fiction on emotional intelligence. The effect of fiction on your social savvy is primarily due to the strengthened sense of empathy that the context of a particular narrative imbues. Adultery, here, serves as a perfect example. When a dear friend speaks to you of their lover's deceits, your first inclination is to condemn the cheater wholeheartedly. They’ve done something terribly wrong, and hurt someone you love. Disdain seems the most appropriate response.

But imagine that same scenario played out in an epic love story on the big screen- a married woman, while in the park one day with her children, meets the man of her dreams- the one that truly understands her, who inspires her, who fills her with life. She battles these feelings, fending them off with logic and loyalty... but ultimately succumbs to the love that is obviously larger and more powerful than anything she’s ever known. We all know this story- we’ve read it, we’ve watched it, and we rarely wonder why this scenario brings tears of joy, while the same scenario played out in our daily lives inspires quite the opposite feeling.

The difference lies only in context. In a story, we see the context surrounding the situation. In Anna Karenina, we know how imperfect Anna’s marriage truly is, and we cheer, long and hard, for Vronsky and Anna’s love. Had we simply been told, without context, that Anna and Vronsky were having an affair, that Anna is a married woman, we would surely be quick to condemn.

The difficulty lies in knowing just how feeble your sense of empathy is to begin with, and how strong is your propensity to discard context in favor of a particular, more comfortable narrative. In The Irrationality of Irrationality, Samuel McNerney tackles this issue head-on.

This is one of the reasons we humans love narratives; they summarize the important information in a form that’s familiar and easy to digest. It’s much easier to understand events in the world as instances of good versus evil, or any one of the seven story types. As Daniel Kahneman explains, “[we] build the best possible story form the information available… and if it is a good story, [we] believe it.”

Narratives formed by our own fragile psyches are, more often than not, misleading, largely because they leave no room for true context.

Last week, two things of significance happened in this great country of ours: North Carolina passed a constitutional amendment, effectively banning same-sex marriage. In the same week, our President spoke out in favor of extending basic human rights to the gay population. One pernicious aspect of human nature lies at the heart of the outrage felt by those who are quick to condemn the love of two people of the same sex: judgment.

Innumerable atrocities, in thought and in deed, are fueled solely by the fires of judgment. When put under a microscope, however, judgment is proven to be a most irrational and counterproductive concept. Fortunately, judgment withers under the bright light of context. Let’s add some context, then, to our very existence, shall we?

In a Prospect Magazine piece, Martin Rees tells us that “research may open the way for a conceptual shift of Copernican proportions..” Rees goes into fascinating scientific detail, breaking down into laymen’s terms the state of the industry of astrophysics. Here are a few key takeaways:

Those in the industry are now able to trace the history of our universe, on an atomic level, to just one nanosecond after the Big Bang.

It is suspected that what we know of the universe extends thousands of times further than we can observe. If it extends as far as is thought, “somewhere, there are assemblages of atoms in all possible configurations and combinations.”

If that is true, then “everything, however improbable, would happen.” This would open the case for a seemingly infinite amount of parallel dimensions- universes in which everything that can ever happen is happening.

These dimensions could be as close as one millimeter from our very eyes, due to their existing in extra spacial dimensions that we cannot perceive (since we can only perceive three known dimensions): “there may be other three-dimensional universes alongside ours, embedded in a grander four-dimensional space.”

Somewhere very near, there could be another you- one who made a different decision than the one you made last week that you now regret. In one dimension, you are the king of a great nation. In another, you are lying in a ditch. In yet another, you have green toenails, and somewhere, you have been happily married for 87 years.

Given this context, how is it that this one instance of someone, on this one planet among billions, in one of billions of galaxies, in one of billions of universes, is so worried about the fact that two people of the same sex want to get married and raise a family? How small do your worries seem when held up in the context of the totality we live in? If we think about it, I’m sure we could find much more worthy, and much less superfluous things to occupy our minds.

If you find yourself passing judgment- on your neighbors, on a politician, on someone’s mistress, endeavor to add some context to the situation. Like revenge, judgment is a dish best served cold, but judgment cannot exist next to the warmth of empathy, which inevitably arises from the fires of context.

My Contribution to 'Essays on Childhood'

2012-05-14T10:58:00.001-04:00

Last week, Elizabeth Gaucher of Esse Diem was kind enough to include me in her Essays on Childhood project. Last Wednesday, the most personal essay I've ever written went live. Here's a small snippet, and a link to the rest:

I was twelve when I first met her, standing on my front porch with Justin, debating a potential trade between Andre Dawson and Ken Griffey baseball cards.

Engrossed as we were in the possible trade, we didn’t hear the two girls walking towards us on the pavement, finishing a walk around the neighborhood block. When I looked up, I saw an amber-haired girl of about my age with a mischievous smile ask Justin if he wanted to climb trees later that day. He confirmed as I stood, mute. Soon they walked around the corner and disappeared. I asked Justin the name of the tall girl, and Justin replied, “Jess.” I kept repeating it. It rolled off of my tongue.

Read the rest here.

How to Use the Internet

2012-05-08T12:41:00.002-04:00

In the mid-eighteenth century, one of the great minds of his time set out on a task: to bring the world its first encyclopedia. Civilization, Diderot argued, was the direct result of empirical knowledge. Each generation knew a bit more about the world than the last. Nowhere, though, had this knowledge been recorded. Diderot thought that by putting mankind’s amassed knowledge into physical form, future generations could study it, learn from it, and build upon it, ultimately leading to the advancement of human happiness through the advancement of knowledge.

All too often, though, we ignore Diderot’s pleas for advancement through knowledge, simply because we forget about the origins of much of our current knowledge. Ancient thinkers formed the basis of our accumulated knowledge, yet often we discard their thoughts as irrelevant purely because of their age.

Take Socrates, the father of modern Western civilization. In an interview with The Browser, Jules Evans explains that there is a link between original Socratic thinking and modern cognitive behavioral therapy. Indeed, CBT was directly inspired by ancient philosophy, yet many therapists themselves are unaware of this fact.

In a more recent example, Sigmeund Freud’s work on the ego is proving to be invaluable to modern neuroscience, which is conclusively affirming some of Freud’s explanations regarding the use of our willpower. Freud himself was quick to point out that his work was meant to be tested and improved upon- and indeed it has been put through the ringer- but without Freud’s knowledge as a starting point, today’s neuroscientists would have no basis on which to form the hypotheses that lead to crucial experimentation and exploration.

What does all this have to do with you and the Internet? Going back to Diderot’s ambition for the encyclopedia to be the medium through which human happiness advances, consider that the web is nothing if not the ultimate encyclopedia. We now have nearly the whole of human knowledge at our fingertips, waiting to be explored, uncovered, and built upon. Indeed, I would not be able to write this were it not for the fact that I can access the very views of Freud and Socrates that I have described.

In order to grow, the human mind needs two things: knowledge and the means to put it to use. We know that the web is the ultimate source of knowledge, but it is useless if we don't know how to use it to cultivate the qualities we'd like to see in ourselves.

Consider Jules Evans’s thoughts on a need for conscious living:

We all have values and a model of the good life that we follow throughout life, but often our model of the good life is unconscious. We picked it up unconsciously from our childhood, our friends, what we happen to watch on TV or the music we listen to. And often our unconscious life philosophy won’t work for us. If you have a bad life philosophy, it can really mess you up. But the amazing thing about being a human is that we have the capacity to reflect on our unconscious values, and consider if they are working for us. If they are not, we can choose different values and a different course in life.

The road to happiness, and ultimately, to a fulfilling life, inevitably merges the very Socratic idea of studying one’s self to live more consciously- to replace unconscious motivations with deliberate ones, allowing you to mold yourself into the person you would like to be.

Now, to put that concept into practice, consider Socrates explaining the impact of the written word in The Phaedrus. In the story, Socrates tells of the god Theuth offering the king Thamus the gift of letters:

This, said Theuth, will make the Egyptians wiser and give them better memories; it is a specific both for the memory and for the wit. Thamus replied: O most ingenious Theuth, the parent or inventor of an art is not always the best judge of the utility or inutility of his own inventions to the users of them. And in this instance, you who are the father of letters, from a paternal love of your own children have been led to attribute to them a quality which they cannot have; for this discovery of yours will create forgetfulness in the learners’ souls, because they will not use their memories; they will trust to the external written characters and not remember of themselves. The specific which you have discovered is an aid not to memory, but to reminiscence, and you give your disciples not truth, but only the semblance of truth; they will be hearers of many things and will have learned nothing; they will appear to be omniscient and will generally know nothing; they will be tiresome company, having the show of wisdom without the reality.

Current knowledge now affirms this belief: now known as the Zeigarnik effect, this concept states that once you have written a thing down, you are much more likely to forget it, simply because your brain recognizes that the information is now stored somewhere else, and therefore it need no longer retain that information. Your brain, in essence, discards what you’ve written, so as to make room for knowledge that does not reside elsewhere.

How can you use this information to live a more conscious life? The idea of keeping a journal comes to mind. If your brain discards knowledge it knows it can find later, then it (your brain) is aware of how precious and finite is its own storage space. Keeping a daily journal would allow you to transfer the contents- the worries, the clutter- of your mind to a different medium, effectively clearing your mind of junk, and thus allowing it to roam freely to new and unexplored depths. According to Socrates- and to modern science- those who write their thoughts down are more likely to develop new, invigorating ideas, simply because their minds are now much lighter, and therefore free to do so.

Staying with the impact of a journal on self-improvement, consider another use Evans lays out:

One thing Hadot wrote about was the idea of keeping a journal. At the end of each day some ancient philosophers would keep track of what happened during the day – what they did well and what they did badly. The idea is that if you want to change yourself and get rid of bad habits, first you have to track yourself. Humans are such forgetful and unconscious creatures, we don’t always realise who we are or how we’re behaving. So we need to keep track of ourselves. Epictetus, for example, said if you have a bad temper count the days on which you don’t lose your temper, and if you manage to do it for 30 days then you can consider yourself to be making progress.

Evans goes on to praise the power of the web in this context, too- the web gives us the incredible power to track and study our habits so as to improve them. Our diet, our exercise, our sleeping patterns- nearly everything can be tracked, quantified, studied, and improved upon.

Is the web changing things? Of course. Is it a harbinger of doom or enlightenment? It is both, and it is neither. The web is simply a tool, much like a hammer. In the hands of an infant, a hammer is quite a dangerous thing. In the hands of a master craftsman, the hammer allows for new and beautiful things to be created.

Maria Konnikova says this in her Scientific-American piece on the effect on the above-mentioned Zeigarnik Effect:

I would never give up the ability to record, to access, to research endless topics at the click of a button. But, with Hemingway and Socrates never far from mind, I may be slightly more cautious about how I use that ability.

Here, Konnikova combines the ancient knowledge she's absorbed (and that consequently we have absorbed, via the web) with a more conscious approach to that very knowledge, and that very web.

The ultimate goal of mankind- of life- is to lead a more fulfilled life. Diderot believed that the accumulation of human knowledge can lead to a higher plane of happiness, and put forth the concept of the encyclopedia as a means to accrue more knowledge in the pursuit of happiness. The web is nothing if not the ultimate encyclopedia, so it follows that the tools for happiness are in your hands. Use them as you will. Will you be the infant wielding the hammer, jumping online to browse the latest funny cat videos, or to lament the fact that your coworkers are lazy? Or will you adopt the role of master craftsman, molding yourself into the person you know yourself capable of being? The wisdom of the ancients is invaluable, and that wisdom lies no further than the nearest web-enabled device. Knowledge is the new currency. The next time you open your web browser, think of the wealth of knowledge that lies within reach, and make a conscious decision to bathe in the pool of those riches.

Weekend Reading

2012-04-28T11:31:00.000-04:00

This week's Weekend Reading contains some absolute gems- so without further ado, here are the articles worthy of your attention this weekend:

In Defence of Obscure Words is an argument by Will Self for using words that often need to be accompanied by a dictionary, warning against the dangers of intellectual laziness. I couldn't agree more.

Sherry Turkle begs us to put the social media revolution in perspective. Giving her own mother as an example, Turkle worries that "like a lot of older people today, she fritters away her social time with whoever she runs into, instead of sustaining continued conversations with the people she cares about the most."

David Eagleman is a new breed of man: a rock star neuroscientist. In The Brain: a User's Guide, Eagleman puts the accomplishments of nearly everyone on the planet to shame with such feats as attaching an electrical grid to a blind man's tongue in order to allow him to "see" as he climbs Mount Everest. Neuroscience rocks.

Speaking of neuroscience: I've long said that if I could travel to any place in time, I would choose Renaissance-era Florence for its unparalleled concentration of genius. Eric Kandel has changed my mind, explaining that 1900 Vienna contributed as much to human knowledge, but did so through a lens of reason. He also makes an eloquent case for an intersection of neuroscience and the arts in The Age of Insight.

Over on Brain Pickings, a summary of Clay Johnson's fantastic book The Information Diet: a Case for Conscious Consumption, in which Johnson explains why "arguing that blaming the abundance of information itself is as absurd as blaming the abundance of food for obesity."

I've saved my favorite for last: if you're half the fan of Russian literature that I am, this comparison of Dolstoyevsky and Tolstoy by eight preeminent modern scholars will thrill and delight you.

On Suspense

2012-04-26T09:57:00.000-04:00

Every morning with breakfast, I sit down to watch The Daily Show, reveling in its ability to update me on the world’s happenings while at the same time eliciting the laughter so critical to beginning a new day. Yesterday, I sat down with my unassuming bowl of raisin bran and turned on the DVR. The recording had caught the end of It’s Always Sunny, so I quickly hit the fast-forward button.

On a DirecTV DVR, if you fast-forward, when you finally hit the “play” button, the recording skips back a few seconds, assuming that your fingers did not respond to your brain’s command as quickly as is necessary. So, when I finally hit the play button, Jon Stewart was saddled up to his familiar desk, beginning his opening statements. Since the recording had gone back a few seconds, though, what I saw actually began with the title sequence- that familiar booming voice announcing ceremoniously that “This is the Daily Show with Jon Stewart.”

I noticed a strange relief come over me when I saw that the recording had skipped back to the title sequence. I wondered why. I’d seen this sequence, literally, hundreds of times. Why did I attach any importance to it?

Instantly, the words of Alfred Hitchcock came to mind:

There is no thrill in the bang... only in the anticipation of it.

It was the anticipation- or, more accurately, the suspense that the title sequence built that subtly and silently thrilled me.

This appreciation for suspense is one of life’s great joys, and one that largely goes unnoticed.

There are epic moments in all of our lives. Indeed, we seem to hopelessly attempt to model our lives after Hollywood scripts, simply attempting to fill the space between those epic moments.

Maybe you’re writing a novel, the completion of which is your next epic moment. Maybe you’re a mother, and wait impatiently for those all-too-rare moments in which your child takes her first steps, or makes you so proud that you feel that you might burst. Maybe you’re working eighty hours a week in hopes of finally making partner at your firm. Maybe, if you judge your life to be woefully lacking in epic moments, you turn on the TV or go to the movies to witness others' epic moments.

Such is the state of life, that none are happy but by the anticipation of change: the change itself is nothing; when we have made it, the next wish is to change again.

~ Samuel Johnson

Looking at life through the lens of the epic inevitably yields many blind spots, but it is those who master the art of peripheral vision who are truly life’s conquerors. In that peripheral vision lies suspense, anticipation, and life itself.

If you've prepared a cup of tea, take a moment to savor the aroma, the warmth, before you take that first sip. If you're about to delve into War and Peace, take a breath and simply acknowledge the weight of it in your hands. If you’re writing a novel, develop the awareness to appreciate the time spent in front of the blank page, of honing your craft. If you’re a mother, learn to see the mind of your child churning, radiating in every direction as she begins to grasp the concepts that will eventually lead to the stellar report card. If you’re a lawyer, or an advertiser, or a barista, or a civil worker, take off the glasses and let the blind spots reveal themselves to you. It is there that life resides, and it is only when the fog lifts that you can begin to savor the anticipation of it.

An intense anticipation itself transforms possibility into reality; our desires being often but precursors of the things which we are capable of performing.

~Samuel Smiles

You, Me, and Character

2012-04-24T10:21:00.001-04:00

I’ve been thinking lately about character. Iskra Fileva, of whose writing I am becoming quite fond, recently dissected the essence of character in a New York Times piece entitled Character and Its Discontents. In it, Fileva takes issue with a recent claim made by two preeminent philosophers: namely, that character does not exist, and that what we perceive as character is only a very fluid result of specific sets of circumstances.

If this were true, the results would be devastating. Imagine a world in which character does not exist- in which any act is merely the result of external pressure. Fortunately, this position seems to hold no water.

When people act ‘out of character,’ they may just be revealing their deeper tendencies.

Fileva deftly tears down the argument with two retorts, both circling around the concept of unity (in this sense, a unity of character). The first uses as an example a lover whose partner is incarcerated for an unspecified crime. The concept of perspective bias explains that this lover maintains a view of her lover’s kind and gentle nature only because her lover is kind and gentle towards her. She refuses to acknowledge the aspect of his character that may have been capable of the crime he is accused of, simply because she has never witnessed that side of him. By and large, we are all egregiously guilty of perspective bias. Indeed, it seems to be a core principle of human nature.

The second argument against the lack of character uses as an example Tolstoy’s shameful treatment of his illegitimate son, explaining it away with the master motive argument. This concept simply states that we all have an underlying essence of character that trumps all others. In Tolstoy’s case, that essence, that motive, is perfectionism. The same perfectionism that drives him to so masterfully lead his reader to a place of gripping empathy for his characters is the same perfectionism that enables him to cast off his son, simply because his presence, his mere being, creates for Tolstoy an imperfect life. This master motive concept, too, we all exhibit in some manner.

These, of course, are extreme examples, but examples which, in my mind, cast aside the notion that character is non-existent, and allow character to firmly take hold of its place among our psyches.

I don’t think these arguments go quite far enough, however.

Character itself is perhaps an infinite concept, in that its edges, its nooks and crannies, its intricacies are not only largely unknown, but perhaps even unknowable. The problem, it seems to me, of the fact that we are all so capable of so many terrible acts based upon our circumstances, as exemplified in so many movies in which a “good” character is driven to some malicious act by sheer despair, lies not in the absence of character, but in the existence of all character within each of us. (Much in the same way that followers of Zen- and many other wise men and women- maintain that the entire universe lies within each of us, a claim becoming more widely adopted among physicists as they realize that we are, indeed, made of star stuff).

It’s not so strange a claim, when you think of it. Our physical bodies are incredibly similar. Two arms, two legs, one heart, one brain, etc., all serving the same functions. The degree to which these body parts are effective, however, varies wildly. You do not have the same lung capacity as a marathoner. I do not have the same level of brain function as, say, someone with a photographic memory.

Is it such a stretch, then, to think that the very essence of us- our character- operates on the same principle? That we are endowed with all the possibilities of character, parts of which operate at different levels? Would that not explain the capacity in us all for every action, every behavior, under the right circumstances?

Consider Raskolnikov, Dostoyevsky’s perfect example of this type of division within one’s self. Crime and Punishment is a brilliant lesson in this sort of dichotomy. Raskolnikov is at once a highly compassionate and maliciously cold character- so much so that Dostoyevsky actually uses two completely different characters to convey this division- in the novel, Sonya represents his loving, generous, and self-sacrificial side, while Svidrigailov represents the malicious and self-serving aspect of his nature. It is precisely because we as readers can identify with both sides that this character is so intriguing. All character exists within all of us: the differences in the degree to which we cultivate their nuances is the essence of who we are.

It could be, however, that the seemingly contradictory bits of evidence reveal not the lack of character but people’s deeper tendencies.

Which brings me to my final point: if we have such extraordinary power as to shape our own character, to feed or tame the beasts that lie within us to achieve our desired selves, on what, then, do these beasts feed?

The answer lies in the people that surround you- your friends, your family, your teachers, your confidants.

There is a select group of people I interact with regularly who feed my intellectual hunger. While working on a play, the wonderful theater folk I work with feed an insatiably carnivorous creative creature inside of me. I also have friends who make me feel as if I’m a fifteen-year-old boy again, forgetting at once the pressures of the world and leading me to a place of child-like laughter and joy.

None of these people are better or worse than another, and none are more or less essential- they simply feed different beasts. They all, every one, make me a better person for having known them. The only true danger comes when I allow myself to be influenced by those who try to tear me down to their level (in other words, to feed the beasts of jealousy, anger, pettiness, etc, that I would rather let starve).

You are not simply a result of your genetic hand-me-downs. Neither are you solely a result of your environment. Instead, you are a rich cacophony of both, and of more. The only true path to knowing yourself is in taking a road that leads you to the people you love, the people who make you better. The next time you find yourself surrounded by these miraculous people, reflect a bit on the marvel that they are, because they are not just they, but are a lake shimmering with possibilities. If you gaze into the lake, you will see all the possibilities of who you may become shining back at you.

Weekend Reading

2012-04-21T12:56:00.000-04:00

I've been detained by life these past few weeks, but fear not. Weekend reading is back. Some of these may be a couple of weeks old, mind you, but nevertheless, these are the pieces worthy of your attention this weekend. As always, poorly designed sites are presented in Readability view, while sites optimized for a good reading experience are presented in their original format. Happy reading.

Andrew Sullivan writes in The Daily Beast a case for a transformation in modern Christianity. Being a non-believer, I find few religious pieces that speak to me. Sullivan, however, presents one of the most impassioned, reasonable, and poignant takes on modern Christianity in recent memory in Christianity in Crisis.
On the incomparable You Are Not So Smart blog, a dissection of ego depletion: beginning with Freud's early interpretations of the human psyche, and ending with a direct correlation between willpower and the amount of glucose residing in the prefrontal cortex, this piece will change what you think you know about your self-control.
Over on The Atlantic, Edward Jay Epstein takes a look at the roots of the diamond industry, and the massive marketing campaign that suckered us into associating diamonds with engagement in Have You Ever Tried to Sell a Diamond?
In Character and Its Discontents, Iskra Fileva breaks down the myth that character is a consistent, immutable prospect. The dissection of its nuances is much more fascinating than our traditional view of who we are. Spoiler alert: I think I'll base a piece here on Wonderisms on this essay next week.
Charles Simic wrote a bit of a scathing piece on the current state of our great nation. It's full of hard, painful truths, and it's exactly what we needed to hear in the aptly named Age of Ignorance.
Finally, NYMag tells us what Facebook really bought with the billion-dollar Instagram deal: sincerity.

Emotional Intelligence: a Revelation

2012-04-19T11:05:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I wrote a bit about why I love the web, the gist being that it combines an unheard-of amount of accessible information with a serendipitous social filtering mechanism that, when used to its potential, creates a more engaged and alive person of those who take advantage of it.

What I write now is both a result of that power and an example of it.

Maria Konnikova recently wrote a piece for Scientific-American in which she puts forth the idea that intelligence is not a fixed entity, as we’ve always thought it to be. Rather, it is:

much more complex a concept than can be measured by standard IQ tests, and

a very malleable thing, capable of being cultivated.

In order to take control of your own intelligence, then, you must do two things. First, you must be willing to rethink the very notions of what you conceive intelligence to be at a very foundational level. This debate has, in some form, raged for quite some time: it’s the book smarts versus street smarts argument. I would argue that we need to include the idea of emotional intelligence- that is, the way that we understand and perceive the world around us. Since that world is largely dominated by human interactions, it would follow that navigating the waters of social interaction is a crucial element to our overall intelligence.

Second, you must accept the idea that intelligence is, indeed, fluid. Konnikova illustrates her point here by categorizing all of us into two groups: the first group, dubbed entity theorists, believe that intelligence is fixed, that the hand you are dealt at birth is unchangeable, amounting to a “luck of the draw.” The second group, incremental theorists, believe that intelligence is as putty in our hands: we can mold it and shape it to our liking through good, old-fashioned hard work.

The fascinating aspect of this take on intelligence is that both camps are right: incremental theorists become masters of their own fate, engaging in a “self-fulfilling prophecy.” By believing that they can shape their own intelligence, they can. The brain must first be open to the possibility to allow it. Entity theorists, by believing that they can do nothing to forward their intelligence, are indeed stuck with what they’re given naturally, because the brain will not allow something to contradict one’s beliefs.

If you believe intelligence is fixed, it is. If you believe you can do something about it, you can. The most uplifting take from this view is that incremental theory can be learned, simply because we humans have the ability to change our habitual approach to the world (as Konnikova puts it). (As a fun bonus, we now know that we can literally increase the size of our brains by exercising that particular muscle).

Now the problem becomes: how to increase your own intelligence? There are the traditional methods: learn a new skill, take a course, etc. If you subscribe to the idea, though, that intelligence is a much more complex thing than what is traditionally taught to us in a classroom, consider a recent piece by Annie Murphy Paul in the New York Times entitled Your Brain on Fiction.

In it, Paul tells us what many fiction readers have long known, but only recently knowledge of the human brain has confirmed: reading fiction- stories- increases your emotional intelligence:

The brain, it seems, does not make much of a distinction between reading about an experience and encountering it in real life; in each case, the same neurological regions are stimulated.

Fiction allows us to “enter fully into another’s thoughts and feelings.” I can think of no more useful quality to enhance than our ability to empathize. Empathy tends to lend context, and it is only by filling in the blanks with context that we can fully understand a situation, whether it’s a politician’s latest misstep, the intricacies of the Palestinian/ Israeli conflict, or the bully that keeps taking your daughter’s iPod on the bus.

Fiction specifically enhances our theory of mind, an area seldom surpassed in its transformative qualities once understood, and enhanced. An improved theory of mind enhances our real-life social skills, and as Paul cites in her piece, study after study (specifically two studies conducted in 2006) plainly show that regular readers of fiction have a keener theory of mind, and are therefore much more adept at empathizing. The same goes for our children: those who are read stories are sooner able to navigate their social world with skill than those who gorge on television.

What does all this have to do with the web? How does it relate to the so-called Information Age that we now find ourselves in the midst of? It’s really quite simple: since the dawn of the paradigm shift in reading- the rise in ebooks, the increase in the sheer availability of books- people read more. The Pew Foundation has reported a remarkable increase in reading among those who have access to digital literature. The societal implications of this could not be more profound. Think of the effect it could have on democracy itself. If the enemy of progress in a democratic society is the ignorance of the masses, how world-altering would it be if the masses can chip away at their own ignorance? On a more individual level, how much more comfortable would I be with my daughter’s social skills if she has better access to reading material that enhances her social prowess?

Clive Thompson recently gave an interview on The Findings’ How We Will Read, discussing the advantages of his newly-constructed reading habits, centering around the digital format. Currently, he’s reading War and Peace- perhaps the most intimidating novel in literature- on his iPhone. He notes that the book is actually much less intimidating in this format, since he can only see one page at a time, never having to consider the bulk of the undertaking by literally weighing the book in his hands. He also mentions that the human brain tends to read more efficiently when narrow margins are used. Books in their traditional format were designed for economic efficiency (as many words on as few pages as possible, thereby reducing the cost to print), whereas digital formats feel no such constraint.

Thompson goes on to praise the effects on memory of repeating what you read, a practice made more frictionless by books’ evolving format, and here he gives a couple of examples.

In reading War and Peace on his iPhone, he’s able to select snippets of text that resonate with him with very little effort (and very little interruption to his reading flow). When finished, he can easily collect all these clippings and print them, so that he has a physical copy of the most powerfully personal bits of the text. “In short,” he says, “I have a physical copy of all of my favorite parts of War and Peace that I can flip through, with my notes, but I don’t actually own a physical copy of War and Peace.” If repetition is the key to true understanding, practices such as this could become invaluable.

Thompson also remarks that we have no idea what the ebook will yet become, as it has yet to even scrape the surface of its true potential. The real revolution will come when true conversations can be had in an engaging and frictionless way. What’s happened to the rest of the web- the rise of social- will inevitably happen to the printed word. Indeed, it’s already begun, but we’ve a long way to go. On the current state of ebooks, Thompson says this:

...they’re clearly horrible compared to what they’re going to be. I find it amazing that I can get this much pleasure out of them already.

So, we know that intelligence is malleable, that it can be cultivated, that emotional intelligence is a very large piece of the overall pie, that fiction dramatically increases our emotional intelligence, and that the rise of the web is empowering readers as never before, and in ways we can only yet imagine. If you believe that the time that we live in is just another speck on the linear history of our world, frankly, you haven’t been paying attention. It’s a remarkable time to be alive. If you want to be a better person tomorrow than you are today, it’s quite simple: go read something.

Why I Love the Web

2012-04-18T14:03:00.000-04:00

I love the web. Every time I sit down with or in front of a web-enabled device, I marvel at the possibilities that have just opened up before me. I realize, though, that not everyone grasps the transformative power of a world lain at your fingertips. Most recognize that it is sparking a revolution in the world as a whole, but few understand the web’s power to transform on a very personal and individual level. I see an opportunity for me to spell it out.

My usual process is this:

I usually begin my day with Twitter, catching up on the overnight nuggets sprinkled throughout the ether by the various wonderfully thought-provoking people I’ve chosen to follow. A friend recently remarked that she assumed that Twitter was just for sports and geek stuff, which, of course, couldn’t be further from the truth. In fact, Twitter is a tool. It is what you make it. It can be as dangerous in your hands as is a hammer in the hands of a toddler, or it can be as helpful as the same hammer in the hands of a master craftsman. It takes a bit of time to prune and trim your timeline to those who you find most engaging, but once you do, it’s a remarkably powerful medium. For instance, I tend to follow leaders in the fields I’m interested in, so my feed is filled with designers, writers, neuroscientists, psychologists, comedians, literary figures, Linux aficionados, freethinkers, and yes, sportscasters.

I sift through these things in the morning, favoriting tweets that seem of interest. Each of those favorited tweets is fed to a bookmarking service (in my case, both pinboard.in and kippt.com), which I can then peruse later, opening the links to find those that are actually worthy of reading. Those that make the grade are added to my Readability queue, and I read them from the comfort of my Kindle.

Quite often, a piece so entrances me that I star it in Readability. These are usually pieces I either write about or add to the Weekend Reading section I post here on Saturday mornings. Either way, I can go back to them later and re-read them. Usually, a theme or two emerges among a couple of articles, and oddly, it’s usually a theme that crosses genre or industry. I may see a correlation between the latest neuroscientific piece by David Eagleman and the How We Will Read segment on the Findings blog, a regular look at the future of reading. Frequently, I’ll use these starred articles to put together my thoughts on the divergent subject that emerges from within these various texts.

Now, let me share something that recently came up in a conversation with a fellow wonderer (context: we were discussing the freedom to write about a topic of your choosing versus a school setting, in which you’re given a subject to write about, and usually given the materials from which to gather your own conclusions): her argument was that working on assignments you wouldn’t normally seek out allows you to diversify your perspective, to see things from the point of view of someone whose work you wouldn’t normally stumble upon. To which I say this: this is precisely the beauty of the web.

The entire underlying philosophy of the web- indeed, the principle it was built on- is hyperlinks (or, simply, links). The ability to cite the work or writing of another individual within a given body of work is the glue that holds the web together, and the principle that gives it its enormous power. The result is this: when I browse these articles from great minds, the articles are inevitably sprinkled with links to the works of others, often those espousing the contending view of the point the author is trying to make. And those articles link to more works, and those to more, and ... well, you get the idea.

All this combines to create a very sharp sense of serendipity. Before long, a mountain of information and engrossing texts lay before you, and it becomes your job to sift through the information to find what is valuable enough to be worthy of your time.

All this can happen in a span of hours, if not minutes. Now, contrast this with the amount of time and effort it would take to collect that amount of information twenty years ago, or even the mere accessibility of it- how many scientific texts were available to us mere laymen before the web came along?

This is to mention nothing of the newest web principle- the social aspect. Imagine being able to actually connect with the people who write the things you so admire.

Now, would you like to learn to play the guitar? Learn another language? That’s possible. Want to collaborate on a screenplay with someone in Prague? You can do that. Your kids are hundreds of miles away? Grab your phone and pull up a videochat. At the moment, I’m learning design, honing my meager writing skills, learning another language, and studying a bit of acting. Often, I feed my mind with the fantastically powerful talks on TED.

One can (and probably will, later) go on and on building a list of the mind-boggling qualities of an interconnected world, but I’ll leave it at that. There are any number of reasons to fall in love with right here, right now- the age we live in. These are but a few of mine. What are yours?

Thank You, Dear Reader

2012-03-31T16:30:00.000-04:00

Ideas are the beginning points of all fortunes.

Napoleon Hill

When I started this weblog not long ago, I had no idea where it was headed. In fact, I still don’t. The one thing I knew is that I wanted to start conversations, and I must admit this was a thoroughly selfish motive. See, I am an odd sort of fellow who seems to surround himself with wonderful people, but people who, nevertheless, are seldom interested in the things that interest me- so I turned myself over the powers of the modern web. The web is, almost literally, anything and everything, but arguably its true talent is to spark conversations.

So I wrote. I wrote to get the things in my head out of my head and onto the unprinted page, and by and large, my goal has been accomplished, though it will never be over. For one reason or another, the comments section of this blog has never exactly exploded, but the discussions have nevertheless appeared, usually in the form of email. You, wonderful reader, you, have many times emailed me your thoughts on my latest ramblings, and many of them have contained poignant insights, useful criticisms, or a simple word of thanks. A handful of you who know me personally have even called on occasion to give me your thoughts on something I’ve written. I want to thank you, because that, again, is why I write. The thoughts in my head, even in being “put to paper,” are not tremendously useful in and of themselves- they must be tossed into the air, where they can jump and run and play and frolic with your ideas, and come back down to me richer, wiser, and more thoughtful.

As I said, I still don’t know where this blog is going. I started it with a few digital meanderings, which somehow morphed into life lessons of a sort, half-baked philosophical word collages, and the like. Perhaps I’ll find the sweet spot between the two: one of my greatest passions is the intersection of the digital world with the physical, and its effect on both individuals and society. Either way, it doesn’t matter, as long as I have fantastic readers, many of you fellow bloggers, with whom to exchange ideas. So, again, thank you. Here’s to keeping the conversation going.

On Vulnerability (A Special Edition)

2012-03-29T11:08:00.000-04:00

I find myself thinking about despair today. I tend to hold an existentialist worldview, maintaining that the universe is inherently void of meaning, which lends itself to viewing the world as a blank slate. If there is no meaning, then one must create his own meaning. The problem with the existentialist view, though, is that, even if rare, despair eventually rears its head, climbing into bed with you to ensure that its face is the first you see when you open your eyes one unsuspecting morning. Typically, I take one of two approaches to these days: I either reason my way out of them, or succumb to them completely- sometimes the most effective method of dealing with unwanted emotions is to allow them to defeat you, even if only for a time.

It will be difficult, to say the least, to succumb to despair using the medium of the blinking cursor now before me. That being the case, let me use this cursor in pursuit of the first method: reason.

The post I’ve most wanted to write of late concerns the role of vulnerability in our lives- its purpose and its advantages. Two things have stimulated this thought process in me: a fantastically brilliant TED talk by Brené Brown, and a film I recently watched. In her talk, Brown argues (and I’m paraphrasing) that only true vulnerability leads to true human connection, and that human connection is the heart and soul, so to speak, of existence. That being the case, the conclusion seems to be that vulnerability, in its rawest form, is vital to the human condition.

The film contained an epiphany of the same sort, albeit much simpler. In it, two people made a powerful connection with each other, and I began to wonder, and then to investigate, exactly what led to this connection. The answer came in a rush: it was the vulnerability of one character, who exposed herself to a very raw, even humiliating level. There were no garments left to hide her soul- it revealed itself to be quite flawed, desperate and frightened, of the one thing that has the uncanny ability to petrify the strongest of us: ourselves. Her emotion was naked, and the effect on the witness of this undressing was powerful. The effect on her was even more so: though her eyes radiated with fear, her body moved as if it was tasting true freedom for the first time, bursting from the shackles of facade.

The effect was, curiously, just as powerful on her witness, and it seems to me to be so for precisely the opposite reasons. Whereas the Vulnerable is freed by humility, the Witness is empowered. Being deemed worthy of such nakedness, the Witness cannot help but feel like the Chosen One, and indeed he is. He’s been chosen to witness the undressing of a soul to its most basic element: helplessness. And if helplessness (vulnerability) is the most basic element of our existence, it is then by definition the core component of us all, and the Witness cannot help but see it in his own soul. Therein lies the connection- the silken thread connecting us all. When a moment of vulnerability radiates from a person’s very self, it also shines a light on the thread connecting all of us, so that Witness and Vulnerable feel as if the Universe is revealing a true secret to them, hitherto unseen by the rest of us.

These thoughts came streaming to me in a flood as I realized that, in writing a story, in order to create a true connection between two people, one character must be exposed, completely and utterly. This fact now seems as obvious to me as the grass beneath my feet.

How, then, can I use this knowledge to fend off despair? The answer, now, seems obvious: I must make myself vulnerable. If connection is truly the heart of existence, despair must be the lack of connection, and thus a lack of vulnerability.

Exposure is not an easy thing for me to do. I’m typically a fairly secretive person. In fact, I can honestly say that there’s not a single person on the face of the planet who truly knows me. Even those who think they do only see variations of a different mask. True, a select few see a much thinner veil than most, but no one has seen the mask removed. Ever.

So, in this spirit, let’s peel back the mask a bit.

I cannot begin to describe how petrified I am of my future. When I was a kid, there were, at various stages, a few things I was quite good at: it began with baseball, which gave way to academics, then acting, all intertwined with a bit of poetry and some dabbling with essays. Throughout childhood, it was always assumed by those who knew me that I would excel at one of these things as an adult. To date, however, I’m not a baseball player, or an actor, or a scholar. These things, as a matter of fact, I’ve failed at, quite miserably. What, then, is left? Writing. Only writing.

I realize now why I’ve waited until thirty-one years of age to get so serious about writing: it’s the only facade I have left. Everyone who knows me thinks of me as a fairly talented writer. If I pursue this, then, and I fail: what is left to define me? What- who- will I be?

I’ve also dabbled in design a bit lately. I’ve laid out my goal before: no longer will I be a salesman, peddling products I myself don’t believe in to unsuspecting victims by way of manipulation and cheap mind tricks. I’ll create things: with words and with code. The writer/ designer that, while already becoming a bit cliché, seems to give more meaning to my existence, and will allow me to follow my daughter wherever her stepfather takes her. Complete mobility is the goal, a circumstance in which, as long as I have my laptop, I can make a living. If I fail, then, it means that I may not be able to watch my daughter grow up. That thought is nothing short of unbearable.

So I must learn. I must write, and fail, and design, and fail, and try, and try, and try. The stakes are high. I believe, though, that in the end, the connections made along the way will prove to be the most valuable of gems. I will connect to my fellow human beings; I will connect to myself, and I will connect to my daughter, by providing an example that will, one day, when she reads my words, make her proud to be my daughter. There is, I think, no nobler pursuit than that, and no surer way to fend off the advances of despair than by seeing the light in my child’s eyes when she looks back into mine with pride. That is the real- the only real- connection.

On Lying to Yourself

2012-03-27T08:00:00.000-04:00

Happiness is not right around the corner, though I know so many who feel that it is. For this to be true, life must be a journey of sorts. It is not. Instead, it is an almost infinite series of moments, strung together so finely so as to give the illusion of oneness, of one straight, measurable line. We are not walking a line. We are living a series of moments.

I recently read a wonderful piece by Sara Robinson entitled Why We Have to go Back to a 40-hour Workweek to Keep our Sanity. In it, Robinson shines a light on the destructiveness of an all-consuming work life. Like any great truth, though, this thought process can (and must) be applied to every other corner of our lives.

The American Dream has deceived us. What began as a seedling with limitless potential to bear fruit has become a thorny, tangled mess, luring us in through the promise of beauty, and ensnaring us in its prickly branches. The American Dream says this: that if you work harder than everyone else, you will one day have a beautiful home, family, and career. You will have a fine house, a beautiful car, an impressive job, 2.5 children, and a loving spouse. What’s never mentioned- only deceitfully implied- is that happiness is part of the package- that once you possess (so to speak) these things, you will be endowed with joy- that, as soon as you turn that corner, you will see happiness, gift-wrapped and waiting just for you. The illusion only works, however, if you don’t see the series of moments passing you by, only seeing the illusory straight line. And if you’re keeping yourself busy in the pursuit of The Dream, you’ll only ever see the line. To see the moments requires one to slow down, to reflect, to look. Do you see those little moments? The bedtime story with your child? The satisfaction you felt the last time you created something? The last time you did something you’d never done before? That walk you took a few months ago to clear your head? Keep looking. You’ll see them. Once you do, we can move on.

If Happiness is not to be found in The Dream, where, then, is it to be found? You may be surprised to hear that I have the answer. In short, there is no answer. At least, not a universal or objective one. It’s the most relative and subjective of all questions, in fact. You alone can answer it. There are a few tips and tricks that might be learned, of course: the man who blurs the line between work and play is generally a very happy man. (In fact, lest you misunderstand the above paragraph, note that I'm not discounting the value of hard work; on the contrary, in fact: few things leave one feeling as satisfied.) The woman who’s learned to perfectly balance work and home life can say the same. Finding an adequate amount of personal time amidst the hustle and bustle of your obligations will certainly help. Ultimately, however, only you can know what makes you happy. Truth be told, though, discovering what makes you happy is the easy part. The next phase is quite difficult: doing.

This is where Robinson’s advice comes in handy.

Control- the Gift and the Curse

On one hand, if happiness is so individual, you’re the only one responsible for your own happiness. That’s quite the burden to shoulder. On the other hand, you’re the only one responsible for your happiness. The meaning of your life is yours to create: do with it what you will. There is, I think, no greater freedom than taking full control of your future.

Robinson delves into the idea that, until very recently, limiting your employees (or yourself) to a forty-hour workweek was considered the only healthy way to do things, both in regards to personal health and a company’s profit margin. A truly healthy company- and its employees- recognize the importance of well-rested and mentally nourished employees. The same applies to all of us in our personal lives.

Task lists and busy lives are not the goal- they are, in fact, an obstacle. Being busy for the sake of being busy accomplishes nothing. Most of us realize this, however- and dismiss it out of hand. I’m not busy for the sake of being busy. I just have lots of very important things to do. Therein lies another problem. None of us want to be told, least of all by ourselves, that the things that we’re doing aren’t truly all that important. If we’re honest with ourselves, though- if we take a good, hard, brutal look- we realize that our priorities, by and large, are all mixed up. The result is that we convince ourselves that we don’t have time for trivial things like relaxation, the right amount of sleep, or enriching our social prowess by reading. The truth is that these things are crucial to a well-lived life. Just like at work, burning ourselves out in our “spare” time by not having any spare time leads to an unhealthy you, and an unhealthy you gets less done and lives a less joyful life. Want proof? If you have kids, there's an easy test to administer. Ask your child if he or she would rather have fifteen minutes of your undivided attention 1) sandwiched between two typical day-to-day tasks or 2) after you've just returned from a peaceful walk.

One great technique is this: instead of saying that you don’t have time to relax, or to read your child that bedtime story, tell yourself that it’s simply not a priority. You’d be surprised how often this is true: would you really rather iron a shirt than take a walk? Watch the latest episode of The Killing or learn another language? We all have the same amount of time in a given day. The hard truth is that you’ve created your busy day and you can take it back again.

I must govern the clock, not be governed by it.

Golda Meir

Most of us can trim up to a couple of hours of free time per day from our busy schedules. Even if it’s only an hour, imagine what you could do with an extra 365 hours a year. Once you find this spare time, you now have the luxury of filling it. Fill it with extra sleep, meditation, a good book- whatever makes you feel whole again. These are the keys to a joyful life. Outside of work, you are your own boss. If you’ve been working yourself overtime, scale yourself back to the metaphorical forty hours, and live, laugh, and love again. You'll be a better person for it.

Weekend Reading

2012-03-17T09:11:00.000-04:00

This week's reading contained so many gems, it was difficult to narrow the field down to the five most worthy of you, dear reader. I did manage, though. On a side note, I've decided that for those sites which require it, I'll be posting the Readability view of these articles. For those whose site is already in a beautiful, readable view, I'll link to the original. Enjoy:

I recently discovered How We Will Read, which interviews a new web expert on the future of reading every week. This week: Craig Mod offers his unique insights.

JD Bentley tells us the story of his termination from a custodial job, and why the experience was "a death gifting me with life."

American Interest delves into the implications of Tolstoy's The Death of Ivan Ilych, not only as a masterpiece of literature, but as a basis for the modern state of social psychology.

It seems I've been saying this more and more often, but occasionally a piece pops up which I believe every American should read. This piece by James Gustave Speth, in which he details the bleak problems facing our nation, the causes, and the possible solutions, falls into that category: America the Possible.

One of my favorite corners of the web- The Philosopher's Beard- takes a look at Jane Austen in a new light: not just as a pioneer in the field of social realism, but as a brilliantly subtle master of moral philosophy.

Okay, just one more: in the New Yorker, David Remnick profiles the rising threat and implications of nationalism reaching dangerous and terrifying levels in Israel.

Happy reading, Wonderists (as I've decided to call you). If you enjoyed this post, please share it with some awesome people with the handy buttons to your left.

We interrupt your regularly scheduled internet...

2012-03-16T10:20:00.000-04:00

I've never posted a single link here on Wonderisms- that's what Tumblr is for- but this piece by @brainpicker is a Friday must-read. Poignant, timely, relevant, and just oh-so-good, it touches a topic near and dear to my heart. So, without further ado, click away:

E. B. White on the Free Press and the Evils of Corporate Interests in Media

Excuses, Excuses

2012-03-15T10:43:00.000-04:00

I haven’t posted (read: created) anything here in a couple of weeks, mainly because the ideas haven’t exactly been forthcoming. There’s a reason for that, which I’ll explain, but for now I thought I’d get try to get the creative juices flowing by posting a journal entry of sorts, a brain dump: just to put pen to paper, so to speak.

I’m in Louisville for the month to see my daughter. Though I take every chance I get to see her, it’s not nearly often enough, I’m ashamed to admit. This is decidedly the motivating factor behind a few aspirations, ultimately all rolled into one: to write, both blogs and novels, and to teach myself web design. See, my daughter’s stepfather is a military man, and so he moves/ transfers every few years. If I want to spend the most amount of time with my daughter, ideally I have to be able to work from wherever I have internet access. Hence the attempted career shift to an entirely mobile one.

So, again, I’m here in Louisville to spend a month or so, which I like to do every so often. The writing environment, while satisfactory, is less than ideal, mainly because I’m simply not focused on it. While I’m here, the trivialities of my daughter’s life become my own, and while I wouldn’t have it any other way (no greater pleasure exists, in fact), it means that my writer’s brain must take a backseat to my father’s brain. Instead of waking up with the remnants of my dreams floating through my head, I wake with a mission: to see my daughter (her name is Jessica, by the way) off to school, to start her day properly. It’s a solid two and a half hours after I wake before I even begin to think of anything remotely resembling writing material. At home, I make myself stay away from the computer for an hour, at least, after I wake up, and perhaps do a small workout or read a bit. The freedom of my thoughts, though, allow my writer’s brain to stir during these precious morning hours, and usually by the time I sit down at my desk, those thoughts are begging to be penned. Not so here, as I’ve said. There- you have my excuse.

Another thought that emerges in regard to the writer’s brain: I missed the opportunity to audition for two wonderful plays in my absence: Beckett's Waiting for Godot (arguably the best play ever written) and Steve Martin’s Picasso at the Lapin Agile. The experience of being in a show in and of itself is an extremely valuable thing, but the material that is produced by stepping inside the world of another writer (the playwright) is immeasurable. Creativity, to use the term in its loosest sense, is an extremely contagious thing. I’ve yet to meet a creator who is not spurred on by immersing themselves in the creative works of others, especially those more talented. Part of this philosophy is reflected in the fact that the best writers are also the best readers.

Moving on- as I’ve said, it’s the most glorious of feelings to immerse myself in another creative pursuit- the molding of my daughter’s very self. There is, I think, no greater pursuit, and no greater challenge than the finest of lines that must be walked between directing a young mind, and letting that mind flourish of its own accord, wandering where it may. The desire between shielding her from harm and allowing her to make her own mistakes is mental tug-of-war that never ends. An example: yesterday, while jumping on the trampoline in the backyard with Jess and the neighbor’s boy, he revealed to me that she had broken his heart (they have... what’s the word for seven-year-old dating? We’ll go retro and use “going steady”). Later, Jess lamented that fact, telling me that she had only “broken up” with this boy so as not to upset her best friend, who was angry with her for even having liked him in the first place. Of course, this is a fine line to walk for her, too- where to draw that line between protecting the feelings of a friend and remaining true to your own feelings? I wanted so desperately to inform her of the ways of the world, what she should do, and how she should react- but this is something which she must not only learn for herself, but experience for herself. No amount of talk from me will embed in her fragile psyche the repercussions of the delicate dance of romance v. friendship.

She also inspires me to no end. The other morning, while waiting with her at the bus stop, she told me that she’s so fast that she can outrun the clouds. She spoke these words without the faintest trace of inhibition on her face. As far as she was concerned, she could indeed outrun the clouds. As an adult, we often feel that such blind and boundless optimism can be quite hazardous. Perhaps optimism, though, isn’t even the correct terminology here. She has an unbridled faith in herself- a characteristic from which the vast majority of adults I know could benefit wildly. I can’t help but wonder how much some of the people I love would have accomplished had they had this very same level of faith in themselves. Regret, as they say, lies only in the past, though, and the past is something which my daughter will have none of. Neither does she care much for the future, which, to extend the phrase, begets anxiety. She’s interested only in now, for as far as she’s concerned, the present is the only time that matters. The consequences of that philosophy couldn’t be any clearer- I see it in her face every time she’s enjoying the present moment. If you look at the face of the nearest child, you’ll see it, too. That’s not just the expression of a cherub-faced future grown-up: it’s the visible embodiment of now. And when you realize that simple truth, how truly great now really is.

Weekend Reading

2012-03-10T10:25:00.000-05:00

First, let me apologize for missing last weekend's Weekend Reading post- it's been quite a busy week. I've decided to post all of these in Readability view. Let's get right to it: five articles worthy of your attention this weekend:

Rollo Romig posits that the separation of church and state is impossible, and what that means for the future of our country.

Megan McArdle takes a look at MIT's innovative new program, MITx, and what a post-campus America might look like.

Sara Robinson provides an absolutely fascinating take on the role of birth control in our history, and our future, why we've underestimated that role, and why patriarchal men are petrified of it.

On The Art of Manliness, freedom is reduced to its positive and negative forms, and why that distinction matters.

Finally, my favorite of the week: Alexis Madrigal gives us a sort of manifesto for the web generation: a fascinating look at how those who have grown up in the Age of the Web perceive and react to the world differently than previous generations.

On Perfection

2012-03-08T09:42:00.000-05:00

Artists who seek perfection in everything are those who cannot attain it in anything.

~ Gustave Flaubert

I’d like to spend a bit of time this morning evolving the concept of perfection. In the abstract, of course, there is no nobler pursuit. In reality, however, the pursuit of perfection can be cancerous. I know the disastrous effects this pursuit can render firsthand- I am a recovering perfectionist.

In the opening quote, Flaubert is speaking only of artists, of course, but there is no greater artist than he who paints himself against the canvas of the world, who seeks to find his place among the stars, or in his own heart. Self-growth is a mantra that always surrounds the swirling deluge of thoughts circling me. There are some who have no desire to improve themselves, and I don’t care to dwell on that type of person. For the rest of us, that improving ourselves every day is tantamount to living a life worthy of... well, life, is axiomatic.

It’s a double-edged sword, this mantra. On one hand, it is the pursuit of perfection that widens our eyes in wonder every morning. On the other, it can be a circular path to walk- when no less than perfection will do, the list of obstacles is, quite literally, never-ending, because our imperfections are infinite. To battle them is to battle infinity itself.

I recently had a conversation with a friend in which I used a bad metaphor to illustrate the challenges we face in the pursuit of self-growth. It may be a bad metaphor, but it is apt. Imagine that your task is to build a spectacular wedding cake. The foundation must be perfectly proportioned if it is to support the rest of, say, a seven-tier cake. Eventually, though, in constantly sculpting and re-sculpting the foundation, you come to realize that the past several hours have passed in this pursuit, and you’re left with little time, and not a fully-realized cake at all, but a near-perfect seventh of a cake.

So it is, I think, in our own pursuits. Each of us looks for a foundation within ourselves to build on. We want to be kind, strong, magnanimous, reasonable, intelligent... the list goes on. We would hardly like to build our very selves on a foundation of flaws, so we seek to correct (or worse, to erase) those imperfections. I am a bit stubborn. I’ve been told that I have to win every argument I enter into. I can on occasion seem too detached. I oversimplify things. Despite my best efforts, I drink entirely too much coffee, go on the offensive when cornered, and worst of all- I often think of my way of doing things as the only correct way. These, to say the least, are shortcomings, imperfections, but they are also a part of who I am. Were I to try to “fix” these things, that endeavor alone would consume my entire life, because they are such an inherent part of my nature. Were I to refuse to accept these things about myself, I would never be able to move onto the second, third, fourth tiers of my cake (me).

This, I think, is the mistake that so many like me make- the vicious cycle that many can’t seem to get past, because they can’t seem to accept that they, as works of art, contain imperfections. How much more valuable, though, are works that contain such imperfections. The concrete example that comes to mind is mass-produced goods. Build a mold, and use it to produce hundreds, thousands, millions of materials with the same qualities, the same advantages, the same intrinsic beauty. Imagine these qualities in, say, Picasso’s works. It’s safe to assume that they would not hold the same monetary value had he devised a way to mass-produce his work, but neither would they hold the same inherent value. So it is with us. Our differences, flaws included, give us value. My mother is the only “my mother.” There is no other, and I can’t imagine I would value her as highly if there twenty of her. My daughter is an endless labyrinth of ideas, emotions, flaws, and triumphs. Again, there is no other, and she is the most valuable thing this universe has ever produced (I may be a bit biased).

For once, I don’t want to dwell on this subject- I’m sure you get the idea. I’d like to invite you to write the rest of this piece. Examine yourself a bit, find those parts of you that are uniquely you, and identify the flaws. Embrace them. Use them to build the foundation of who you will become tomorrow, and build from it. No man or woman has ever existed in a state of harmony with his or her self without first embracing those scars, those imperfections. Find them in yourself, then move on. Perfection does not lie in perfection itself. Perfection exists only in ignorance of itself.

Advance, and never halt, for advancing is perfection.

~ Khalil Gibran

On Fallibility

2012-03-01T11:23:00.000-05:00

As a child, I succumbed to the notion that the world around me was infallible. Everything was as it should be, and everyone knew what they were doing. Those who delivered the news, those who manufactured my home, those who ran my government were making products and ideas that need not be questioned. In seventh grade, that changed.

I was sitting in Mr. Miller’s algebra class. We began the day’s lesson with the proper placement of a decimal point. Standing in front of the blackboard, yet another pillar of exactitude, Mr. Miller told us that, at a convenience store just up the road, a sign in the window advertised coffee for .99 cents, and that every time he saw that sign, he wanted to walk into the store, pour himself a coffee, and hand the cashier a penny, telling him to “keep the change.”

The rest of the class chuckled. I did not. I wondered. The fallibility of the world had just been exposed to me, and I would never see it in the same light. If these people at the gas station didn’t understand a concept as simple as the placement of a decimal point- basic math to even the most average of seventh graders- what other mistakes were present in my world?

As it turns out, no greater gift could have been bestowed upon me than the knowledge that even adults made mistakes, that the world was not a perfect, utopian place. If the world was indeed flawed, then it cried out for corrections, for new ideas, for new mistakes. The world is an unfinished product, and it desperately needed new workers to improve upon it. I was handed the proverbial blank slate, equipped with a single piece of chalk, and I needed to get to work. All these years later, the exhilaration of that epiphany has not yet left me.

Fast forward to 2011. After a seven (eight?) year stage hiatus, I auditioned for a part in a local theater’s production of “Arsenic and Old Lace.” Much to my surprise, the part was given to me. Not only had I been absent from the stage for so long, I also had no technical training, no real skill to speak of. So, during the first rehearsal, I pulled the director aside, asking him to be generous with his criticism, as I was eager to learn, to improve, to grow. After all, my stage background was less than impressive, to say the least, and his was to be envied. He was a professional actor, and one who ran his own theater, no less. His reaction to my request was surprising- in that he was surprised. Most people don’t ask for more criticism, he said. Few are thankful of the little that’s given to them.

I pondered this for awhile afterwards. How could it be that amateur actors were so hesitant to receive instruction from someone so obviously their theater superior? How can anyone grow, how can anyone improve, if they’re completely closed to those from whom they can learn? The more I thought about this phenomenon, the more I started to recognize it in my life outside of the theater. Friends who were involved in bad relationships refused to take advice from those in a happy marriage. Freshman colleagues refused to accept the help of senior staff members. I even witnessed a first-time guitar pupil getting annoyed at the suggestions of his tutor. It was as if everyone assumed that they knew best, in every possible field, even if that clearly wasn’t the case.

He who moves not forward, goes backward

~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

The problem, it seems to me, lies in the tendency of individuals to wrap their thoughts and their actions up into their identity, twisting and mashing them together until one is indistinguishable from the other. If we are the result of the things we, think, say, and do, then it’s difficult not to take offense when we are told that we could be doing something better, we could be approaching something in a more thoughtful way, or we could be dealing with circumstances more advantageously. After all, when you attack my actions, you are consequently attacking me.

In order to grow, one must create a dichotomy of himself. One one side lies our thoughts, our actions, our words. On the other, our very selves. The Romanian philosopher and writer Mircea Eliade put it thusly:

As long as we are unconsciously and automatically identifying with the changing contents of our consciousness, we never suspect that our true nature remains hidden from us. Contemplative traditions affirm in one metaphor or another that our true identity lies not in the changing contents of consciousness but in a deeper layer of the self, mind or soul. To reach this deeper layer one must slowly disentangle oneself from automatic identification with the contents of consciousness.

In this case, of course, our consciousness is our thoughts, actions, and words. Once you’ve accomplished this disassociation, the recognition comes that you are an incomplete work of art: you yourself are a blank canvas, and you hold the paintbrush. Paint yourself as you will. There are no rules, no restrictions, and most importantly, no infallible master instructing you to paint yourself as so many have before you. Nor is your first attempt going to be your best, but that’s the beauty of the thing. You are not limited in the amount of times you choose to recreate yourself. You may choose to add a bit of color here and there, transforming yourself in minute ways until you’re satisfied with the resulting mosaic. You may choose to simply start with a blank canvas every week, every year.

To let you in on a little secret, I’m in the midst of this very process. A ten-year salesman, I now know that there is no life better-suited for me than one of writing and web design. It’s a difficult, arduous process to recreate oneself, and it need not be so drastic. But to be the master of your own Fate, to wield the brush that paints your life is an invaluable and liberating thing. To be handed the brush, though, you must open yourself to the wisdom of others. Admit to yourself that you do not always know best. Don’t just open yourself to criticism- actively seek it, because you are a work in progress, and to see yourself as infallible is to paint yourself in black and white. The brilliant colors needed to paint a masterpiece lie in the wisdom of the people you love, trust, and admire.

The Currency of Movement

2012-02-28T08:38:00.000-05:00

Saturday night, I saw a one-woman play performed in a local theater. “Rachel Corrie” is the story of a courageous young woman who spent her last months in Palestine, championing a cause that was dear to her heart. The story of her death was not the story that needed told; the story of her life was a lesson in humanity.

I spent a lazy Sunday afternoon watching “The 100 Greatest Artists of All-Time” on VH1 Classic, a rare couple of hours in front of the television. I only got the chance to catch numbers sixty through one, but in every artist profiled a common theme began to emerge: the abnormality of those who transcended their genre to become music icons.

Sunday night, I caught snippets of the Academy Awards. Billy Crystal was charming and funny, yes, but the true appeal of the show began to appear during introductions and acceptance speeches, when introductions attempted to articulate the effect a particular work of art had on other human beings, and acceptance speeches showed us the raw emotion and human element of those great minds who were responsible for these works.

The weekend’s crescendo came during Meryl Streep’s acceptance speech. Watching her bring herself to tears, as she has so many times prior, I found myself wondering at the fantastic places artists to which artists can transport us. There’s a magic in art that’s so often overlooked in our overstimulated world. An artist- an actor, painter, writer, singer, sculptor, dancer, composer- offer us a magic carpet ride. It’s as if they pull up alongside us, telling us “I know a world not far from this one, which you absolutely must see. Jump on, and I’ll be your guide.” Sometimes this world is, truly, another world. Sometimes it is only another dimension of our own reality- one that we either didn’t know existed, or that we simply never recognized. In either case, the artist’s task is simple: to move us. They tinker with the innermost workings of our hearts, of our minds, tugging and pulling until we feel an emotion that almost overwhelms us. Feel that? That’s profound sadness. This lever here? Fear. This button? Pure joy. This, my friend, is what your soul was created to feel. This is what your heart is capable of.

The ability to move your fellow man to tears, to unbridled laughter, to truly feeling operates as a sort of currency among artists. You moved me, sir, and I feel that I owe it to you to move you, too. I must repay you for your performance, and so in my next endeavor, I will strive to be better, to reveal to you the part of yourself which you have revealed to me.

This is the higher plane that true creators reach. The rest of the world operates on a currency of money- a vile, earthly, meaningless thing. Artists, though, transfer and create and destroy this amazing currency of movement, encircling the world in a spiraling web of heartache, laughter, and emotion. If you pay attention, you may even see it. A lucky few do. The next time you’re moved by a performance, a piece of writing, a song, close your eyes. The web may appear, in all its brilliant colors- the reds of love, the deep purples of perseverance, the whites of fear, the yellows of compassion. If you’re lucky enough to see it, you are thereby given a task: to add your own color to the web, to move your fellow human being as you have been moved. Now, close your eyes, take a deep breath, and get to work.

Weekend Reading

2012-02-25T11:14:00.001-05:00

A seemingly random collection of things worthy of your attention this weekend (some old, some new):

"If a system of state education were to focus on the civic virtues needed for a free society, such as a respect for individual rights and obedience to a limited government, then surely it would be a good thing." George H. Smith on The Roots of State Education.

Scott Belsky offers some much-needed tips on staying human in our digital world

William Boyd gives a moving portrait of Vienna, a city greatly deserving of his love.

Sabrina Rubin Erdeley writes of a small town which has declared war on gay teens- and the disturbing, if expected, results of the town's bigotry.

Steven Nadler looks at the First Amendment through the eyes of Baruch Spinoza- an interesting read for all Americans.

Coffee Cups & Relationships

2012-02-22T10:34:00.000-05:00

I recently had a conversation with a dear friend of mine, and it struck me that I’d spoken these words many times before. In fact, they were becoming something of a mantra, a piece of the personal manifesto puzzle.

In this conversation, I likened most aspects of my life to a coffee cup I recently purchased. Now, I am quite the coffee fanatic. I’ve no idea how I’d go about my day without it. Consequently, I attach a great deal of significance to the cup I drink my coffee from. It must be fairly large- I don’t want to refill the cup every five minutes. It also must be large in the right proportions- wide, not tall. Tallness in a cup creates a feeling of instability. Instead, I want a wide cup that feels stable, solid, trustworthy. I also want the cup to reflect my personal tastes, so tend to shy away from intricate designs, opting instead for a simple one. One would think that such a cup would be easy to come by, but in reality, I only recently found the perfect cup.

I now use this cup all morning, until I cut myself off from coffee, opting for water in the afternoon, when I switch to a structurally similar scotch glass. After dinner, I usually have a cup of hot tea, and I pull out the coffee cup again. That’s generally it- I use these two cups exclusively throughout my entire day. Do I pay an unusual amount of attention to the cup which holds my drink? Yes- and in doing so, I’ve extended this thought process to other aspects of my life.

The conversation around this cup sprang up in speaking to a friend about a current relationship and its eminent demise. I had been single for many years, and preferred it that way. I was asked how I could be so comfortable living for so long without a partner. My answer was quite simple: I was more selective than most. As with the coffee cup, I refused to allow anything mediocre in my life, be it a relationship or a cup.

The response that I got was quite interesting: what gave me the right to be so selective? Most everyone settles for something at some point or another. Isn’t it better to have something than nothing at all? From my friend’s perspective, it all sounded a bit egocentric. Perhaps, I said, but if that’s the case, I wish everyone were a bit more so.

I want to immerse myself in an experience. If I’m reading a book, I’m doing so without any distractions- maybe outside on the porch, with the accompaniment of the birds’ calls, maybe in my favorite chair with Sinatra playing faintly in the background. If I’m watching a film, I set aside a certain block of time to pay attention to the message that the filmmaker is trying to convey, similarly setting the atmosphere. When I exercise, I don’t do so half-heartedly; again, I immerse myself. These activities (and even the simple act of drinking coffee) are things I’ve decided are worthy of my time. After all, time is the most valuable commodity on earth. It’s the epitome of transience. There has never existed a person who was more rich in time than any other. It’s a remarkably finite thing. Even as you read this, your supply is diminishing. That being the case, why would I settle for anything mediocre? Why would I read an article that does not enthrall me? Why would I drink from a cup that rather annoys me? And why in the world would I devote my time to a mediocre relationship?

It is a wretched taste to be gratified with mediocrity when the excellent lies before us.

~Isaac Disraeli

With the acceptance of mediocrity inevitably comes the confession that one’s life is mediocre, and to make that confession is not only sacrilegious, it’s patently false. As Carl Sagan put it: “Who are we? We find that we live on an insignificant planet of a humdrum star lost in a galaxy tucked away in some forgotten corner of a universe in which there are far more galaxies than people.” The fact that you are here is amazing. That you are able to bear witness to a sunset, to a child’s laughter, to great coffee and great conversation with a dear friend is awe-inducing. If you’re unfamiliar with the feeling of awe, you’re not paying attention to the world around you.

The excellent lies before us, if only we cast mediocrity aside. Allow yourself to be a bit more selective in what is worthy of you, and the excellent will make itself known, be it a coffee cup or a relationship.

The Case for Conscious Consumption

2012-02-21T13:24:00.002-05:00

If you reside on the web, or even occasionally visit, this seventeen-minute presentation given by Clay Johnson should be at the top of your to-do list. In it, Johnson explains why we must demand a reversal in the trend of the downfall of editorial integrity, and why it is vital to every American citizen.

found via curiositycounts.

In Response to @JDBentley's "The Purpose of Life is to be Happy"

2012-02-16T09:56:00.000-05:00

JD Bentley recently (well, two months ago) wrote a post with which I vehemently disagree. Now, for the record, JD is a wonderful writer. I’m a subscriber to his site (you should be, too) and I enjoy his posts immensely. That said, I think he has this happiness thing all wrong.

He begins this particular post by refuting an idea from the Dalai Lama, that “the purpose of our lives is to be happy.” JD’s refutation of that notion is this: “Not only does happiness being the purpose of life sound ridiculously vague and simplistic, it also sounds selfish and shallow.”

The vague nature of happiness is entirely the point. In fact, were happiness not so vague, it would also be far less valuable. The notion of happiness reminds me of the ultimate and age-old question regarding the meaning of life. Indeed, perhaps the two are one and the same. Neither can be called objective- what makes me happy, what gives me meaning may be monotonous drivel to you, and vice versa. Happiness is perhaps the most subjective experience of all, and it’s this very characteristic that gives it its inherent value. As a wedding ring given to a young girl by her dying grandmother holds more value to that girl than the rest of the world, so the value of our happiness is ours, and ours alone. The question of happiness or meaning is a misleading one, because in and of their own right, those concepts don’t exist. Meaning (read: happiness) is a thing to be created, not an objective truth. As for the “selfish and shallow” bit, I’ll get to that.

JD goes on to say:

The purpose of life is a struggle for completeness. It has little to do with your emotions or your well-being. It’s about your character and your essence. You will have joyous experiences and sorrowful experiences, relaxed experiences and tiring experiences, all conspiring to build you up into wholeness.

We’ve all known miserable people, and few of us would gladly spend a day with someone who seems to be in constant anguish. After all, misery loves company. It is indeed infectious. So, too, is a positive personality, and it is these with whom we prefer to spend our time. It’s simply human nature to prefer the presence of positive people. Given that you accept this truth, who could be called the more complete person? Person A, full of despair, or Person B, full of life? Nietzsche was an intellectual giant of his time, wildly accomplished, and yet I doubt he would have described himself as complete. Thoreau, on the other hand, would probably have no trouble describing himself as such, having devoted an enormous amount of his time to personal growth, after which he emerged a tremendously happy person. Both had tremendous character. Only one may be called complete. To commit to presenting the most complete version of yourself to those who choose to spend time with you seems neither selfish nor shallow.

The post ends with this:

We are a generation unwilling to hear such an answer, though. We’re more concerned with feeling good and being told it’s okay to feel good, whether or not it’s actually beneficial for us.

Feeling good is not the point.

Here, again, the very definition of happiness needs to be questioned. To confuse happiness with “feeling good” is, in my mind, intellectually dishonest. Were that the case, a few drinks would induce the optimum state of man. To feel good does not equate to being happy. In fact, the happiest people I know are not those who string together the most possible joyous experiences while eliminating as many negative experiences as possible. No, the happiest people are those who not only accept sorrows as inevitable, but embrace them as a mere link in the chain of life- a stimulus for reflection and growth. On his last point, I agree completely. Feeling good is not the point.

Happiness is the meaning and the purpose of life, the whole aim and end of human existence. ~ Aristotle