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.

the god I was taught to believe in

The god I was taught to believe in had a lot of rules. Of course, he didn’t expect you to be able to follow them. But he did expect you to try really, really hard. And if you didn’t try really hard then you must not believe in him enough. And that was bad news for you. Because if you couldn’t believe enough then you would have to go to hell, forever. So, while you didn’t have to worry about possibly failing at keeping the rules, you had to worry double about why you weren’t able to keep the rules. Man, it was hard. The god I was taught to believe in particularly didn’t like social change. He didn’t like uppity blacks, he didn’t like (the people on) welfare, he didn’t like feminists. But he did like patriotism. I’m not sure if he liked patriotism in people in other countries, but he liked it in Americans. He also seemed to like Israel, but jews not so much. He liked country music, but not pop music. I guess because you can't dance well to c

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 places – a parent and child, lovers, or very closest f

rambling in the wood...

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