efficiency versus flow

This diagram illustrates my frustration with contemporary life. The square represents the most efficient way to complete an activity or task. The circles represent the available blocks of time due to meetings, appointments, etc. The square won't fit and so has to be divided over two time blocks. The result is it takes twice as long to accomplish and wastes time that could've been used for something else (i.e. the white space within the circles.)

In real life, this manifests mostly as having to divide my work day up due to doctors appointments, swimming with my son, etc. And so, I start something, work on it a while, put it away, then start again the next time. Rather than start and finish it in one block of time.

I think this is a consequence of modern industrial life. Our obsession with efficiency, causes us to schedule into ever smaller blocks of time. But this has the unintended consequence of making meaningful work, that requires large blocks of uninterrupted time more difficult.

on art

"If I were to paint a wild horse, you may not see the horse...but you will surely see the wildness!" -- Picasso Great art isn't about craftsmanship. Its certainly not about realism. The value of art lay in its ability to transcend rhetoric. T he ability of the artist to distill a concept, for example "wildness", down to its very essence and to then communicate this to the audience in a way that touches the soul.

on loss

Why do some losses drive us into despair, while others we face with equanimity? I believe the answer is unrelated to the “depth of love” (a meaningless expression), but rather to how integral the person was to the fabric of our life. I remember the passing of each of my parents. I’d lived away from them for many years and so my everyday existence was unaffected. I quickly returned to my life, sad but composed. Imagine the essence of your life as a large piece of fabric and that of those you care about a different piece. In most relationships, like mine with my parents, the fabrics are intertwined but yet still distinct. Intermingled but fully separate. And so, despite the loss, your own fabric is unharmed. You still are very much who you were and your life as it was. But now imagine a different relationship where the fabrics, rather than being intertwined, have become joined together in place...

on values

Do our values change? Or do we simply lose track of who we are? When I was a boy, I was obsessed with David Carradine’s character Kwai Chang Caine. A fugitive shao-lin monk, he was forced to drift throughout the old west with only the clothes on his back and a few belongings, no place, no family, no friendships. And while each episode presented a new hardship to bear, he faced each with complete equanimity, finding purpose in the spiritual care of others. As a teenager, I longed to be just like him. But I grew up, went away to college, started a career and a family, and became busy. Then a couple of years ago, I found myself alone again – forced to sort out who I was and what I might want from life. During one period of reflection, I conceived of a set of guiding principles that resonated deep within me: simplicity – the avoidance of all but that which is either necessary or fulfilling, harmony ...

rambling in the wood...

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