This is the Way

South to White Baldy

I wrote this poem years ago, in the fall of 2018. At the time, I was in my second year of graduate school studying climatology, with a research focus on Antarctica. So it's no great leap to infer some of the inspiration for a poem that, when its proverbial needle is spun, points south. I have also always found myself drawn to polar exploration and the incredible voyagers who were on that frontier in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. 

More recently, though, I re-read this poem and different thoughts came to mind. In these uncertain political times, I thought more about the connotations that come up when we hear the word "south." 

For Americans, we might think of the South, along with all the attendant assumptions and feelings about its people, food, humidity, and way of life. From a global perspective, "south" may conjure up images of the so-called "global south," referring to the generally less well developed, less populated, and often neglected parts of the world, generally found near to or below the equator. Oftentimes, however, these are regions where identity is shaped by delicious foods, wonderful community, and a more (perceived, at least) laid back lifestyle. Further, for us northerners, "south" may conjure up images of sunshine warmth during cold and dark winters. 

Whatever thoughts this imagery may bring to mind for you, I wanted to capture the feeling of a place or a direction that is so often overlooked and taken for granted. In my mind, this represented the famous fork in the road from Robert Frost's (often misinterpreted) poem "The Road Not Taken." To me, this was my own version of taking "the one less traveled by," which felt apropos for a graduate student adrift on the breeze, who now works a corporate job once again. Perhaps one day I'll double back to that path kept for another day.

→This is the Way

What do you do when you don't know what to do? Where do you go?

Some would say venture West, that the road has always led West. 
West is where dreams become reality, where the banalities of existence are left behind for high adventure.
But West so often disappoints; she makes promises that she can't deliver.

So, others would say look North, to the land where lights of green, blue, and pink dance across the sky.
The Great White North, presided over by that ever-beckoning star, Polaris, and haunted by the call of the loon.
North offers not only enchanting beauty, but she beckons your eyes upward, heavenward.
Come hither, strike out in my direction, and all will be well. But will it?

Still others would invite you to remain in the East, or rather, to return East. 
It is the land of the known, yet mysterious, full of wonder; the land of civilization, cultured and curated. 
Where you can call upon your fellow man and he will answer; where you needn't be lonely, or so we're told.
Until we find loneliness, even among the crowds, yet are left wanting for solitude.

So, perhaps, we turn our gaze South. South is a land that makes no promises. 
She only promises that you might not get what you set out to achieve; or you just might. 
South beckons tantalizingly, not with a single star, but with a constellation - the Southern Cross.
South sounds the siren call to any who listen carefully, attentively.
Many have heard it: Shackleton, Amundsen, Scott, Byrd. It is the call not of adventure, but of challenge.
The call to challenge your mind, your body, and your spirit. Which seems to be all that we really yearn for.

If Mother Earth were flat, I would surely fall off that side of her. And so, I look South, and begin on my path.

The Treadmill

 

Dead End, Hudson Yards, New York (2022)

How can one sum up recent events in the United States of America? How does one come to terms with the chaotic destruction of systems, livelihoods, dignity, respect, and so much more? I will not do those who are responsible for tearing at the seams of our democracy the honor of naming them, but there is no ambiguity about whom I am writing. 

Acts of resistance are cropping up. Protests have been organized, picket lines formed, boycotts set, with economic blackouts still to come. And yet, because of the economic imbalances in our system that are only getting worse by the day, we all find ourselves in positions where we can't help but get up and continue going to work in order to eek out a living, stuck on the proverbial treadmill.

For the years that I have been sporadically posting my thoughts to Deliberately Aimless, I have endeavored to steer clear of political matters and write content that could be thought of as "evergreen." However, I do not want to stay silent in the current moment. Each word spoken against the injustices and inhumanity of the current administration makes a difference, no matter how small the voice or how obscure the corner of the internet.

If I can't sum up the events of recent weeks, I at least wanted to try to capture what I – and, I suspect, many others – have been feeling. So I once again turn to poetry. What follows is a modified ballade of three eight-line stanzas concluded with a four-line envoy. The last line of each stanza is repeated, creating a refrain, though here's where I modified it slightly. Each line consists of 10 syllables and the rhyme scheme will become evident from the poem.

→The Treadmill

A drop of coffee spills onto the page
as you ponder how you will pay your rent.
The man, he's got you cooped up in a cage
so it's no wonder that you feel so spent.
Each new day only feeds the resentment.
Your neck, it kills, as you review the bill
and wonder why it hardly makes a dent,
spilling sweat on this godawful treadmill.

You try your best to engage with this age
but are beaten down by each new event.
Headlines only amplify the outrage.
We are crying out for a place to vent,
but this bad news, it just will not relent.
So you watch your country tumble down hill
while praying for love where hatred ferments,
spilling sweat on this godawful treadmill.

All the while you're whipped into a rage
by the foul rhetoric of those intent
on dragging us back to some "golden age"
where they benefit without our consent
and seek to prevent remaining dissent.
This isn't our home; we've lost all goodwill.
Elites pillage to the fullest extent
while we sweat on this godawful treadmill.

It happened so fast, the straight became bent;
a tyrant has come with fear to instill,
but go on we must, no time to lament –
leave the treadmill, run up that goddamn hill.

The Old Red Barn

 

After a lengthy hiatus due to the responsibilities of adulthood, we return with a poetry post. I've been feeling worn down by the daily grind of life lately, and in an effort to spur my creativity, decided to take a stab at the occasional poem whenever the mood struck. 

One evening a few weeks ago, I was playing with my dog in the backyard and enjoying the cooler weather, when I glanced at the neighbors' dilapidated shed and was struck at how worn down things can become in life and yet still remain standing, serving their purpose and fulfilling their function. I believe the same is true of us humans, and I was lifted by the thought. Determining our purpose or function may be a touch more difficult, but that's a post for another time.

The poem is unstructured and free verse.

→The Old Red Barn

We stand in the shadow of the old red barn. It’s decrepit, no, that’s too mean. It’s withered. 

The ages have taken their toll on it as they do on all things. But still it stands, sometimes quavering in the wind, sometimes sagging in the snow, but upright. 

One day soon it may collapse, I don’t know. Perhaps when the wood has rotted completely from the inside the paint will hold it together still. 

Are we not also just patchworks, held together through the years by our accumulated experiences? Someday soon we will fall, but the old red barn’s time has not yet come. 

Were Humans Happier as Hunter-Gatherers?

Wildflowers blooming in Albion Basin, Utah

Discussion of hunter-gatherer societies necessarily invites as many questions as it provides answers. In our industrialized, modern societies, we are so far removed from the hunter-gatherer age that it is essentially a foreign concept, despite existing in the shared evolutionary history of humanity.

One of the primary questions that arises in discussion of hunter-gatherer societies is whether we were happier as foragers than as producers of food. This is an idea popularized by such writers as Jared Diamond in his now infamous 1987 article "The Worst Mistake in the History of the Human Race," where he makes the argument that humanity was happier and even, initially, healthier as hunter-gatherers than as agriculturalists. Diamond points out that hunter-gatherers eat a more varied diet than farmers who cultivate only a limited range of crops, which further puts said farmers at risk of starvation if a single crop were to fail.

A question often brought up at this point in the discussion surrounds the notion of leisure time and the subsequent cultivation of arts and literature. Doesn't foraging require a lot more effort and time compared to farming? Studies of modern hunter-gatherer societies such as the Kalahari Bushmen reveal that they actually work less than the average person in an industrialized society: an average of 12-19 hours foraging per week, compared to 40+ hours per week for the standard office worker. We can't say definitively, then, that the works of art and literature that we have today are superior to what may have been produced under a different way of life.

In addition to lengthened working hours, agriculture also led to inequalities in society that were previously few and far between. As Diamond notes, "Hunter-gatherers have little or no stored food, and no concentrated food sources, like an orchard or a herd of cows: they live off the wild plants and animals they obtain each day. Therefore, there can be no kings, no class of social parasites who grow fat on food seized from others." That's a pretty damning interpretation of what might otherwise be called "prosperity."

The notion of hunter-gatherer societies as a sort of golden age of humanity also receives ample discussion from the anthropologist Yuval Noah Harari, in his book Sapiens. 

Harari provides a more all-encompassing view of work, including in his estimate such things as time for domestic chores; cleaning and carrying the kill back to camp after a successful hunt; cooking what has been foraged, fished, or hunted; etc. Still, Harari estimates that hunter-gatherers work only 35-45 hours per week in total, even accounting for all tasks. 

It should also be noted that this is spread across seven days per week; there is presumably no notion of a weekend in a subsistence society. Because things that constitute "work" are more directly linked to survival, it is likewise conceivable that the lines between work and play are more blurred than in our modern societies. Furthermore, assuming nutritional needs are met, this leaves ample time for leisure pursuits such as art, music, and storytelling, or even reading and writing. The limiting factor in pursuits such as the fine arts in a foraging society would appear to be one of mobility – as societal groups continually move to where plants and animals are abundant – rather than time.

Harari also does a deep dive into differences in health outcomes between hunter-gatherer societies and early agricultural societies, noting that life expectancies were low in both hunter-gatherer and early agricultural societies, mostly due to a high child mortality rate. Beyond that, hunter-gatherer peoples lived just as long, had a more varied diet, and generally were less prone to disease than their early agriculturalist counterparts. 

In all, I identified 11 key takeaways from Harari's discussion of hunter-gatherer societies. In much the same way as Diamond's essay, these takeaways largely paint a positive picture of hunter-gatherer societies relative to their agricultural counterparts.

1. Work 35-45 hours per week
2. Hunt approximately 1 in 3 days
3. Forage 4-6 hours per day
4. Better nourished than future peasants/farmers of early and middle ages
5. Greater variety of work than the modern worker
6. Life expectancy was 30-40 due to high child mortality rate, otherwise people lived from 60-80
7. People were more dispersed than in modern agricultural societies and thus not as exposed to disease and did not sustain epidemics
8. Had domesticated dogs (about 15k years ago) but not other animals and so weren't as prone to diseases that originated in modern domestic animals
9. More varied diet than future farmers
10. Farming prioritizes the survival and thriving of the species, not the individual
11. Wheat, sorghum, beans, etc. domesticated Homo sapiens, not the other way around

The points that stand out to me are numbers 5 and 10. The lack of immediacy and variety in our day to day industrialized existence, coupled with the prioritization of the species over the individual, are key elements that plague the modern workplace as well as mass movements such as the effort to address climate change. 

While we all intuitively understand that writing that report, completing those calculations, or serving that next table are the activities that will earn us money and thus the ability to feed and shelter ourselves and our families, there is often times too much distance between the effort and the reward for us to see any direct connection. Aside from generally meeting deadlines and performance requirements, there can quickly emerge an ability and willingness to put off until tomorrow what isn't immediately necessary today. 

And this isn't laziness or a moral defect; it's an understandable malaise that enters our overly-routinized existence. Lacking variety (and in many cases beholden to the interests of Diamond's aptly termed "social parasites"), it can be difficult to summon internal motivation, and we quickly fall to a carrot and stick system of motivation. The carrot, in this case, is earning enough money to maintain your existence. The stick is losing your ability to earn a living.

Through collaborative efforts, we create things like highways, safety oversight boards, and make medical advances that benefit society and the species as a whole. These all undoubtedly raise our collective standards of living, but do they result in a better day to day existence for each individual? It probably depends on which day you ask the question and to which individual, and what, precisely, you mean by "better."

For instance, those same highways that we create that lead to better mobility also lead to negative consequences such as urban sprawl, increased carbon emissions from traffic, and safety issues, both for humans and wildlife. Collectively, emissions from our cars, homes, and factories are making our planet increasingly inhospitable. However, the negative consequence of increasing temperatures is sufficiently far removed (we think) for us to alter our day to day existence and drive less. Perhaps it's even impossible for us to drive less, as we have to continue commuting to our job on behalf of our role in society. The species thrives (for now); the individual languishes, perhaps setting aside his or her personal aspirations in the name of species-wide "progress."

This all begs a natural set of follow-on questions. Why do we view hunter-gatherer societies as less advanced than agricultural societies – primitive even? Do we actually know what "progress" means? Can we say definitively that wonderful works of music, art, and culture would not have arisen under hunter-gatherer conditions, or that our society would not be more fair and free? 

These are, perhaps, unanswerable questions. The only glimpse of an answer I can see is that we – in America, especially – equate "progress" with production, and an agricultural society lays the groundwork for an industrial society which is, by its nature, more productive than a hunter-gatherer society. We see it in the language of our modern society. We are no longer "individuals," but "consumers" in a commercial society. Food and goods have become commodities rather than necessities. 

In the words of the French philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau, "It is iron and corn, which have civilized men, and ruined mankind." For agriculture to flourish, "labour became necessary; and boundless forests became smiling fields, which it was found necessary to water with human sweat..." For Rousseau, and perhaps for modern thinkers like Diamond and Harari, "Nothing is more peaceable than man in his natural state..." Perhaps our "natural state," that state in which we would be most gentle – most peaceable – is as hunter-gatherers.

AI Is Here – What Do We Make of It?

Imagine a world where machines can outsmart humans, where robots can do jobs that were once only done by people, where computers can understand and respond to human emotions. This is not a science fiction story, it's the world we live in today. 

Artificial Intelligence is no longer a futuristic concept, it's a reality that's changing the way we live, work, and interact with each other. But as we stand on the brink of a new era, we are faced with a difficult question: should we embrace this new technology and all its benefits, or resist it and risk being left behind? 

The answer is not simple, and it requires us to think deeply about the implications of AI on our society, our economy, and our humanity.

In this post, we will explore the promises and the perils of AI and ask ourselves, "Are we ready to adapt to the new standard or will we ignore it at our own peril?"

What if I told you the introduction above was generated by the ChatGPT language model from OpenAI? How does that make you feel? Are you impressed? Feeling duped?

Let’s take a look at another application of AI. Here, we see an AI playing a simple enough game: tic-tac-toe. 

AI is remarkable in its ability to replicate tasks and function within a pre-programmed set of rules. With neural networks and learning algorithms, AI can even take in operational information and improve upon its own algorithms. 

However, what happens when we don’t provide AI with sufficient guidelines? As you see here, the AI "thinks outside the box" and completes the task in an unanticipated – and incorrect – manner. It is the unanticipated aspects of AI that warrant further consideration rather than just blind adoption of the technology. Countless movies warn us of the malevolent possibilities of AI, from iRobot, to Terminator, to 2001: A Space Oddyssey.

Despite such cautionary tales, AI is already prevalent in a lot of our existing technologies. For instance, a simple application is the spam filter within our email inbox that saves us from the tedious task of sorting through unwanted emails – however imperfectly, as anyone who has ever received an email explaining how they’ve just won $10,000 from a foreign prince would know. 

Another common and increasingly common application of AI is in natural language processing. Think of helpful – or otherwise – chatbots on sites like Amazon or any other online retailer. A more cutting edge application of natural language processing is in software that analyzes both voice and text data – think calls or emails – and pulls out key points to summarize for business use.

Finally, facial recognition has been a growing use of AI over the past few years. Anyone who has recently flown through a major airport has probably encountered the facial recognition screens at the security checkpoint.

This is just a small sample of already functioning AI applications across many industries. Actual uses, both current and future, are nearly limitless.

Let's address the current climate surrounding AI with a quote from William Gibson, one of the most influential science fiction authors of the last century and the man credited with coining the term "cyberspace." His writing has focused on the intersection of technology and society. 

“The future is already here – it’s just not very evenly distributed.”

What a succinct way to summarize the current situation. Which brings us to the main idea of this post: embracing or resisting AI. 

A historical example that provides reasons we should embrace new technologies is that of the automobile. When the "horseless carriage" first came on the scene, it was met with skepticism and resistance from many, but ultimately the automobile brought significant change to society, the economy, and the way we all live our lives. 

The same can be said for AI and its potential to change how we work, communicate, and access information. The fears people had about change, potential loss of jobs, and general uncertainty with the introduction of the automobile were valid, but were alleviated by the increased mobility it brought about. Given enough time, we have come to see it as essential to daily life.

On the cautionary side of the scale, consider a cautionary thought experiment. Performance enhancing drugs are not currently allowed in any major sport – though that doesn’t mean they haven’t been used by a few illegally from time to time – think MMA, baseball, cycling. 

The question is what would happen if performance enhancing drugs were ever legalized in competition? There would be some who would refrain from using PEDs for moral reasons or to protect the integrity of the sport, but if a not insignificant percentage of competitors began to use such drugs, it would really only be a matter of time before you had to either join in or be left behind. Despite the headlines and scandals of doping in cycling through the years – and the continued illegality of the practice – an estimated 20-90 percent of professional cyclists still use PEDs. Clearly, the potential advantages are just too great to pass up for many competitors.

Might AI present a similar conundrum in the everyday workplace?

This topic has increasing relevancy because of its increasing ubiquity in our everyday lives. AI language processing and machine learning has now progressed to the point where it is allowing for the automation of legal research, the research and writing of essays indistinguishable from human-generated writing, predictive text like you see on your phone when typing out a text, and translation of complex texts.

Less than a decade ago, the conversation around AI and machine learning focused on the potential for displacement in industries such as truck driving, taxiing, and even aviation. Now, it seems, the AI industry has its sights firmly set on white collar positions. With the growing sophistication of services such as ChatGPT to research and generate original text, it isn't a leap to consider language processors generating copy, slogans, content, and other traditionally creative outputs. 

AI image generators are also generating buzz as we consider the possibility of displaced artists and photographers. Even engineering isn't immune, where improving machine learning algorithms can literally mean that a coder writes code that displaces him or her from their own position. In the civil engineering world, AutoCAD Civil 3D now has a grading optimization feature that uses automation to take a first pass at optimizing the cut and fill balance of a site.

Clearly not all of these advances represent replacement-level technology. Many applications for AI software will occur as supplements to daily tasks, such as in the grading optimization example where an experienced engineer will still complete the detailed grading of the site. Similarly, content generation from AI may simply function as a starting point that generates discussions from the marketing department about which path to pursue.

But what if we start seeing ubiquitous AI content on the internet? What if an AI-generated image wins an art contest – as one did at the 2022 Colorado State Fair – over deserving human-made pieces? Should we be required to disclose this information or create a separate division? Should we require that AI-generated content carries some sort of identifier? If we can't even tell that it was artificially generated, some will argue, then what's the issue?

These are questions that we must confront in the coming decades. Clearly AI is here and – like doping in cycling – it is here to stay. We must collectively decide how to retain and protect our unique creative spaces and abilities as humans while embracing AI technologies where they legitimately make life simpler or easier. The key will be to make AI work for us and – unlike in so many science fiction films, to one degree or another – avoid becoming subservient to it.

The Joy of Bicycling

A joyful ride through Manhattan (2022)

Bicycles emerged on the scene relatively late in human existence. In fact, the first bicycle was introduced by the German inventor Karl von Drais in 1817, a full 13 years after the introduction of the first locomotive in Britain. And it wasn't until 1885 that the "safety bicycle" was introduced, the first bicycle design resembling modern bicycles.

Throughout its history, bicycling has experienced alternating boom and bust cycles. It boomed when the safety bicycle first came on the scene, only to bust when the automobile was first introduced – and for many years following. It experienced a resurgence with the environmental movements and gas crisis of the 1960s and 1970s, only to see its popularity wain once again heading into the 21st century. Most recently, the bicycle has seen a resurgence once again as citizens become more concerned with a changing climate and see the bicycle as an excellent substitute for short car journeys. For more on the efficiency and usefulness of the bicycle, see our previous post "A Primer on Bicycling."

Towards the end of our post "A Primer on Bicycling," we examined how centering urban design around the bicycle really brings the urban space back to a human scale. In this post, I want to examine another, often overlooked, aspect of the bicycle: joy. Think back to when you were a kid and the feeling of freedom at being able to propel yourself around on your first bicycle, far outstripping the distances you could cover on foot. Even as an adult, riding a bicycle provides the rider with freedom of movement and natural exercise, but it also allows space for what I can only describe as a "bicyclist's high." 

It's that feeling of euphoria that comes about from racing down a hill, the long-awaited payoff from the struggle to the top. It's that feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment that you propelled yourself around town rather than relying on an engine (and can now pig out for the rest of the day). It's the recognition of the simplicity of the machine, marveling as the mere pumping of your legs – the pedaling of your feet – drive the bicycle forward. It's the space to let your mind wander in the midst of an otherwise chaotic world. 

With these euphoric feelings in mind, let's take a look at what others have had to say about the bicycle and their experiences with it throughout the years.

"It is by riding a bicycle that you learn the contours of a country best, since you have to sweat up the hills and coast down them. Thus you remember them as they actually are, while in a motor car only a high hill impresses you, and you have no such accurate remembrance of the country you have driven through as you gain by riding a bicycle."  
→ Ernest Hemingway

"Ever bike? Now that's something that makes life worth living!...Oh, to just grip your handlebars and lay down to it, and go ripping and tearing through streets and road, over railroad tracks and bridges, threading crowds, avoiding collisions, at twenty miles or more an hour, and wondering all the time when you're going to smash up. Well, now, that's something! And then go home again after three hours of it...and then to think that tomorrow I can do it all over again!"  
→ Jack London

"Every time I see an adult on a bicycle, I no longer despair for the future of the human race." 
→ HG Wells

"I came out for exercise, gentle exercise, and to notice the scenery and to botanise. And no sooner do I get on that accursed machine than off I go hammer and tongs; I never look to right or left, never notice a flower, never see a view - get hot, juicy, red - like a grilled chop. Get me on that machine and I have to go. I go scorching along the road, and cursing aloud at myself for doing it." 
→ HG Wells

"Get a bicycle. You will not regret it, if you live." 
→ Mark Twain

"When the spirits are low, when the day appears dark, when work becomes monotonous, when hope hardly seems worth having, just mount a bicycle and go out for a spin down the road, without thought on anything but the ride you are taking." 
→ Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

"Nothing compares to the simple pleasure of a bike ride." 
→ John F. Kennedy

"After your first day of cycling, one dream is inevitable. A memory of motion lingers in the muscles of your legs, and round and round they seem to go. You ride through Dreamland on wonderful dream bicycles that change and grow." 
→ HG Wells

"Let me tell you what I think of bicycling. I think it has done more to emancipate women than anything else in the world. I stand and rejoice every time I see a woman ride by on a wheel. It gives a woman a feeling of freedom and self-reliance. It makes her feel as if she were independent... the picture of free, untrammeled womanhood." 
→ Susan B. Anthony

"Meet the future; the future mode of transportation for this weary Western world. Now I'm not gonna make a lot of extravagant claims for this little machine. Sure, it'll change your whole life for the better, but that's all." 
→ Salesman in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid

A joyful ride through Central Park (2022)

A Primer on Bicycling

A mass of bicycles
Cambridge Train Station, Cambridge, United Kingdom

Riding a bicycle is something that feels fundamental to modern humanity, but is perhaps more accurately described as an acquired taste. It is apparently also a polarizing topic these days. Cycling has become one of many de facto stand-ins for the rhetoric surrounding climate change and political differences. It's often considered liberal to ride a bicycle; I think a more appropriate term would be progressive. Riding a bicycle gets you out of your comfort zone, it requires you to see things differently – it quite literally moves you forward. That is progress; that is progressive. But not everyone sees it that way.

Take a gander at the comment threads of articles covering myriad topics from greenhouse gas emissions to the automobile industry to gridlock to street safety and you will find opinions voicing both support and malice for the humble bicycle. The vitriol is all rather baffling. Yes, we've no doubt all witnessed a cyclist rolling through a red light at one time or another (though the Idaho stop – which alters allowed behavior at stop signs and red lights – is legal in several states); it really is a case of a few bad apples ruining the whole bunch. Additionally, there is no shortage of driver complaints about the slower and more exposed cyclist occupying the same lane or an adjacent lane on public roadways, an arrangement that is decidedly unsafe for the cyclist, unless he is protected by a physical barrier of some sort.

There can be no denying, though, the benefits of cycling. Cycling is low-impact, and therefore contributes to cardiovascular health without damaging effects to the joints. Health benefits also include general fitness as well as reduced stress and anxiety. A further benefit of cycling is reduced traffic congestion, which may explain the corresponding reduction in stress for the rider who is no longer caught in traffic.

From an emissions standpoint, motor vehicles produce an estimated 30% of total carbon dioxide emissions in the US, and of this total it is estimated that 60% is produced early in the trip when the vehicle is operating inefficiently. Cycling is an excellent replacement for these short trips. The efficiency of bicycles could be a gamechanger in the transport industry if only we can bring it to scale: a person on a bike can go approximately 960 miles on the same amount of energy required for a car to travel a mere 20 miles. It is critical, then, that we increase cycling rates to combat climate change; a prospect that appears to have broad public support if only we make it safer. 

There also appears to be sufficient interest in locations with varied climates and political systems, with the percentage of people using bicycles as their primary mode of travel for short distances in China and Japan slightly outstripping the rates seen in places more traditionally considered to be bicycle friendly such as Germany, Belgium, and Sweden. In the United States, a slight majority contends that infrastructure projects should prioritize cars rather than bicycles, though the United States has generally been more reactionary to cycling demand rather than a visionary driver of it. This hasn't always been the case, though. 

The League of American Wheelman, a cycling organization, was an instrumental early proponent of The Good Roads Movement, an advocacy group that sought to update and improve rural roads around the United States in the late 19th and early 20th century. Alongside these efforts, bicycle specific roads were built on each coast, including the 5.5 mile Coney Island Cycle Path in 1894 in Brooklyn (still maintained to this day) and the 18 mile Santa Monica Cycle Path in 1900 that connected famously car-centric Los Angeles to the beach. Unfortunately, the success of the Good Roads Movement would lend a hand in the downfall of the humble bicycle, as road surfacing and road maintenance techniques were already substantially improved when the automobile came along.

And therein lies the rub. It was perhaps inevitable that the automobile – given its convenience, ease, and comfort – would eventually overtake the bicycle in popularity as a practical means of transport. But car-centric infrastructure is not built for humans or at a human scale – it's built for cars. It depersonalizes our cities and the individuals operating the machines (yes, cars are heavy machinery). Operating a car distorts our psychology to the point that we see other cars on the road as objects, not as a machine with another human being inside. It insulates the operator from the surrounding world. Anyone who has ever driven a car knows this to be the case.

When things are built at a human scale, though, this connection to other humans is not lost. On a bicycle, you are exposed to the world around you as well as to other humans. While technically qualifying as a machine, a bicycle allows the humanity of the rider to be preserved. We therefore behave as a human and treat others as humans. The scale is more manageable, the speed more reasonable. It's a shared struggle and a shared joy to see others walking or cycling, exposed to the elements just as you are. To return to the opening sentence of this post, this is what makes riding a bicycle fundamental to modern humanity: it preserves our connection to the world around us that we otherwise ignore in our technologically saturated day-to-day lives. It provides us with genuine experience; it gives us joy. 

It's to the joy of riding a bicycle that I will turn to in my next post.

A Cherished Moment at Sunset

 

Basílica de San Francisco El Grande, Madrid, Spain

I find myself in a time of reflection. It's been approximately 2.5 years since I visited Spain with my girlfriend, and nearly 2.5 years since the world recognized the onset of the Covid-19 pandemic. It was February of 2020, and though there was news of the virus spreading in East Asia, there were no more than a handful of cases in Europe at the time, and global sentiment was that the virus would still be contained before it could become a major outbreak. We had booked the trip months in advance, and countries wouldn't begin to close their doors for another six weeks. What a long 2.5 years it's been since then. 

The trip, though, was incredible. We experienced the beautiful evening light streaming through the stained glass of La Sagrada Família; cooked paella as part of a class in Barcelona; wandered the Gothic Quarter; visited bars both inspired by and – in some cases – frequented by Hemingway; hiked Mount Tibidabo; enjoyed a wonderfully intimate dinner at a restaurant called Blavís; experienced the wonder that is the Spanish AVE high-speed train; visited the parks and museums of Madrid; enjoyed drinks at Spanish jazz bars; ate nearly our fill of tapas; toured the Spanish Placio Real (Royal Palace); and rented an attic apartment in central Madrid that nearly convinced us to drop our lives back home and become expats living in Spain.

And yet, dredged up from among all these grand experiences, I am reminded of a simple, tender moment. We were wandering Madrid after a full day and came across the Basílica de San Francisco El Grande. The 18th century basilica was beautiful from the exterior, especially in the evening light, if a little rundown. Graffiti marked the planter boxes, the dome showed signs of rust, and the façade cried out for a fresh coat of paint. Nevertheless, the basilica was situated on a high hill overlooking west parts of Madrid, and offered a wonderful vista to watch the sun set. 

As we sat enjoying the moment, a young woman wandered up to a bench nearby and checked her phone. Several minutes later, she was joined by a young man in a striped, hooded sweatshirt. They sat and talked for awhile, just as we did, separated from us by only a planter box or two. While they were in conversation, I took a moment to snap a quick photo of the basilica – lit as it was by the golden hour light – and incidentally caught them in the frame, as well. 

In hindsight, it's one of my favorite photos that I've taken. It's a study in contrasts: the decaying appearance of the basilica and dormant trees of February set against their budding relationship – and my own with my girlfriend, behind the camera. It's a moment I cherish and a photo I cherish, both embedded in my memory and set against the backdrop of a pretty wonderful Spanish vacation before the world completely changed.

The Joy of Puzzles

Western culture is geared toward solving problems or providing pleasure, not pondering questions or experiencing wonder. We have a natural tendency toward optimizing productivity and output. Recently, I rediscovered the wonder and joy of doing puzzles, which I shall refer to as "puzzling." 

I used to do a puzzle about once a year, typically with my mom over Christmas break. This past year, we – along with my girlfriend – ramped it up and did four or five puzzles. Part of it was driven by a near-term and new-found obsession with puzzles. But part of it was driven by the mindset created while doing puzzles.

Puzzling offers a simple and straightforward path into flow, that now near-ubiquitous term made famous by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi. There is next to no worry or anxiety created by puzzling, while selection of a properly difficult puzzle will keep you above the threshold of falling into boredom or simply feeling relaxed. There is something titillating about seeking out that oddly-shaped or uniquely-colored piece, and a sense of satisfaction at locating it. As simple as it may seem, puzzling offers a sense of accomplishment.

At the same time, puzzling is fairly passive in what it requires from you mentally. In a sense, I would equate it to walking, where the simple act of moving at a pace made familiar through countless millennia of  human evolution can prime neural pathways for pondering ideas. If walking allows us to follow the rhythms of our bodies, then puzzling allows us to follow the rhythms of our minds. Puzzling (or similarly, doodling, coloring, art, generally, or walking) lets us move and think at our own pace, a pace conducive to pondering thoughts and ideas in a manner that is often lacking in our modern world. What each of these activities shares in common is that they all force us to slow down. We intentionally create space and time for depth. Often, this depth can be explored alongside another person, as well.

Even though we adore the trope of the singularly genius creator or self-made man, it should be obvious that no one creates in a vacuum. We are constantly subject to outside influences, both positive and negative. Puzzling, as with walking, allows your mind the space to take stock of those influences and begin to put the disparate pieces together. Now this is not to disparage the idea of self-reliance (particularly the notion of it written about by Emerson), but merely an acknowledgement and appreciation of the influence of environment and, frankly, all of humankind. 

The benefits of walking to stimulate thoughts are well established, but it turns out that walking in nature is even more beneficial for the brain, as it results in lower levels of brooding – that is, ruminating on negative thoughts, as we so often are prone to do while sitting in traffic, for instance. Working on puzzles, it turns out, has a similar effect, as puzzling promotes mindfulness, creativity, and even spatial reasoning. In much the same way that active navigation promotes improved spatial memory, the act of remembering a shape or color and then locating the piece to fit it also benefits short-term memory and awareness.

Beyond the health benefits of puzzling, I just enjoy the freedom to let my mind wander, while still feeling as though I am focused on a task. Time spent doing a puzzle also offers time to listen to an audiobook or podcast, while having sufficient bandwidth to accomplish both. 

Furthermore, puzzling offers a respite during the long, cold winter months when it can be difficult to get outside and walk or into nature. Instead, we can sit down to a puzzle of a forest or a beach and temporarily get lost in the scenes materializing before our eyes. Whether or not such a scene depicted in a puzzle has the same effects as actually being in nature is secondary; we can still immerse ourselves in the often bucolic images and feel the stresses of life melt away.

Review: The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People

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Overview

I usually don't take the time to write reviews for books that I didn't enjoy reading. However, there were many points in reading The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People by Stephen Covey when I found myself reaching for my phone to type out some notes in frustration. Don't get me wrong, there are certainly sound principles to be found in the book; I just think that the applications presented not only fall flat, but are just plain unrealistic and unhelpful. 

Maybe I wasn't the target audience. Maybe the book would have hit home more if I had read it through the hungry eyes of a 22 year old rather than when I was nearing 30. If I had to give a one sentence summary of the book, I would sum it up that it is preferable to act rather than be acted upon. Covey repeatedly refers to acting according to "correct principles," which is in line with the life philosophy of anyone attempting to live a life of virtue, though we may quibble over precisely what constitutes said principles. 

As I said, the advice is sound, it just doesn't necessarily hold up to the scrutiny of life being lived in real time, as I will explore in more detail below. Further, the book is a little too formulaic in a way that is incompatible with the uncertainties faced daily in the modern world. The book seems to speak to how to be a highly effective automaton more so than a highly effective person.

The 7 Habits

Before we do a deep dive, let's list the 7 Habits outlined in the book so we establish a frame of reference for the review that follows.

• The first three fall under the umbrella of "dependence" and "private victories"

1. Be proactive
2. Begin with the end in mind
3. Put first things first

• The next three fall under the umbrella of "independence" and "public victories"

4. Think win/win
5. Seek first to understand, then to be understood
6. Synergize

• The final habit falls under the umbrella of moving toward "interdependence"

7. Sharpen the saw

Mission Statements & Structure

As is often the case with self-help literature, Covey is a big believer in writing mission statements. Mission statements can be a powerful thing when adhered to, but they also need to allow for flexibility when life inevitably does not go to plan, which the 7 Habits does not adequately acknowledge. Books of this sort that focus almost exclusively on the responsibility of the individual can be detrimental in this sense, because if something isn't working in your life, the conclusion invariably is that you simply must not be following the paradigm well enough. Failures become your own fault, rather than the fault of the suggested operational paradigm or simply a bad break. It is important to take personal responsibility for your life and your actions, but we must also remember that life sometimes happens on its own terms.

The book accepts as a given that our current structure, particularly that of business, is the correct and best way for the world to be. There is no discussion of there being a fundamentally better system, because that's beyond the "circle of influence" and rather in the "circle of concern," and therefore not worth bothering over. I realize that some of this may be me viewing a 1989 book through a 2022 lens, but it nevertheless feels like a valid critique. In our modern lens, climate change is largely outside our "circle of influence," but that doesn't mean that it shouldn't be in our focus. People these days are beaten down by things that technically fall outside their "circle of influence," but nonetheless affect their everyday lives in profound ways.

And despite the step-by-step approach, I didn't feel that effectiveness was ever effectively defined. In Covey's descriptions, effectiveness comes to look a lot like productivity, particularly with regards to work. There is little real emotional discussion, and the stilted family relationship examples provided fall flat. 

Win/Win Scenarios

When discussing win/win scenarios, Covey provides an example of working out a deal with his young son to care for the lawn. It's a win for Covey in that he can count on his son to do the yard work, and it's a "win" for his son because he then has the freedom to determine his own time throughout the summer, so long as the yard is cared for. I understand teaching responsibility, but the whole description in the book reeks of condescension, of co-opting his son into household chores without really having a say in it. You get the feeling that his son won't be given the option of choosing "no deal," even if he doesn't find the win/win scenario to be to his liking. 

Covey provides another example wherein a father he knows wants his son to attend a "prestigious" school, but the son is against the idea. Covey counsels the man to show his son "unconditional love" and allow his son to make his own choice. Eventually, of course, the son comes around and decides he wants to go to the "prestigious" school. It just reads a little too conveniently, as though it was always going to end up that way. Sometimes, an example where something doesn't turn out as expected can be much more illustrative than endless "wins."

The win/win examples provided not only fall flat, but are also very idealistic. For instance, I wonder whether Covey could configure a win/win situation where a renter feels like they also "won" when their rent is raised and they have no recourse to negotiate. It's a matter of either accepting it or getting out; there is no "no deal" option. It can also be difficult to be willing to take a no deal when a win/win isn't possible when you're attempting to exit a bad situation. For example, if you're leaving a bad job (which maybe isn't a "lose" situation, but perhaps didn't turn out to be as advertised), and you're left looking for the best available option, even if it's not strictly a "win/win." 

In this sense, the book contains a lot of privilege that is never addressed. There is no discussion of having to hold a job purely in order to make money or attempt to get through until something better presents itself. The advice is written from an assured position, where the ability to meet basic needs is taken for granted. In the chapter on the quadrant time management approach, no discussion is given to employees in roles where they do not have control over their time or ability to set their own priorities. Covey describes the differences of scarcity and abundance mentalities, and how abundance mentalities promote more win/win scenarios, without ever examining what might lead an individual to hold one or the other mentality in the first place. 

Condescension & Clichés

In another instance, Covey describes presenting at a leadership seminar and being approached by a listener during a break. The man in question lays bare that his wife doesn't trust him when he's away at seminars, because that was precisely how the two of them had met when the man had been previously married. The man describes how no amount of promises or discussion seems to assuage her concerns. Covey allegedly responds, "My friend, you can't talk your way out of problems you behave yourself into." My first reaction is that there is no way he actually said this. It reads high-brow, if condescending, but no one talks like this. It doesn't so much illustrate a point but rather makes him seem insufferable. 

With regards to Habit 6, Covey writes how, "When properly understood, synergy is the highest activity in all life." Excuse me, what? As with the seminar statement above, this doesn't provide any actionable advice to the reader. It reads fancily enough without actually saying anything useful. 

And with respect to usefulness, I have to say that the utility of advice is partially contingent on the authority of the source. While Covey was a widely respected leader in the business world, that alone is not enough. Covey doesn't cite any sources or studies to back up any claims made in the book. This becomes particularly glaring when he makes a weird segue into exercise advice in the chapter on "sharpening the saw." When making claims, or even offering suggestions, it's useful and even necessary to cite other sources rather than just relying on personal experience and anecdotes.

Positives

A few positives I took from the book were its focus on having an internal locus of self-control. Further, Covey makes a distinction between focusing on effectiveness when dealing with people, and efficiency when dealing with things or tasks. This is an important distinction, as we can't and shouldn't manage relationships as though they were tasks. Relationships may not have a clearly defined target or end as with a task, and we would do our friends and family a disservice to treat them as such. 

Additionally, near the end of the book Covey notes that we should value differences. Differences of thought, of opinion, of lifestyles all enhance our experience and provide us with a chance to learn from one another. Covey also cautions against dichotomous either/or thinking, a notion that Richard Rohr has written extensively about. When we end dichotomous thinking, we open ourselves up to a vast array of new perspectives. 

Conclusion

I didn't like this book nearly as well as I had hoped. For a book that has sold something like 25 million copies worldwide, I expected something more impactful as well as more concise. As is the case with so many business and self-help books, this book likely would have been better off as a long article or modern day blog post. 

The book also comes off as unaware and tone deaf at times. Covey finishes the book by sharing a personal story that, he writes, "contains the essence of this book." In it, he takes a one year sabbatical to Oahu to write and he and his wife have the freedom to talk for two hours a day at a secluded beach. Covey writes glowingly of the "synergistic" communication that developed between them. 

If the essence of the book is somehow contained in that anecdote, I'm not sure the book has many useful lessons to teach a mainstream audience. The book isn't self-aware enough for our modern age, nor does it allow enough room for human variability and fallibility. We aren't always operating at our best, and sometimes we need a chance to recover. Sometimes we don't need a new practice or seven habits to integrate into our lives, we simply need the chance to re-center ourselves in the quiet moments of life.

The Writer's Mind

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I struggled at first to come up with an image to accompany this poem. What sort of image is best to encompass dreams, imagination, thought? Initially, I browsed images of space and mountains and oceans, before I realized that that was the wrong direction. Imagination doesn't have to encompass grandeur, it simply has to be representative of the act of creation. With that in mind, I settled on a simple typewriter, and the romantic vision all writers harbor at one time or another of themselves sitting down to its formidable keys.

What appears on the white blank page is a pure act of creation. Now we can argue about influences and style and sources of inspiration, but the bottom line is that the page begins empty and ends filled. There is no shortcut around that, though it's rarely a linear process. Iterations have occurred through the ages via crossed out words, erased phrases, whited out punctuation marks, and, finally, the backspace key. Nonetheless, something is written. 

In this case, the something that was written was a poem I penned back in 2016. I was reading Walden at the time, and it is clear that I had Thoreau and transcendentalism on my mind. One may even say he was a source of inspiration for this poem, though the words flowed through my pen. I write poetry only occasionally, and rarely do I do so in a structured manner. However, I wrote this poem as a Sonnet, which if you don't recall from tenth grade English, has 10 syllables per line and is written in iambic pentameter with an A-B-A-B, C-D-C-D, E-F-E-F rhyme style for the first three verses, followed by a G-G finish. In traditional spiritual fashion, imposing a little bit of structure seemed to bring out words that I would not have otherwise expected. 

→The Writer's Mind

A bit of a walking contradiction; 

He aimed to be so grounded, but instead

Filled his head with fantasies and fiction,

Dreaming bigger with each book that he read.

Witty and charming, though shy to a fault,

He craved the wilderness and solitude;

Which once attained, his mind ran without halt,

Longing for company he had eschewed.

He did not seek those familiar to him,

No, he sought those known only by his mind,

As if in a story of his own whim

Free to envision life as he inclined.

Still it left him adrift, wanting for more,

So again to his thoughts, worlds to explore.

Let's Talk About Productivity, or The Elephant in the Room

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Productivity is an oversaturated topic. I get that. Nevertheless, I wanted to enter the fray and chime in on the grand productivity discussion. In some sense I feel as though I wouldn't be a proper American if I neglected to weigh in. It wouldn't be productive to refrain.

In a recent New Yorker article, author and computer science professor Cal Newport offered his thoughts on the topic, suggesting that our use of the term "productivity" is in some sense misguided. He chronicles how productivity has moved from a simple measure of output to an optimization task for the modern knowledge worker. Not only must the modern worker remain productive in terms of output, but he must also constantly optimize processes and procedures to find ever more efficiency. 

Streamlining processes used to be in the purview of the employer (think Henry Ford and the assembly line), but has now been thrust upon the individual (think writing internal white papers and spearheading the roll out of new software). While the assembly line may have been a soul-crushing, creative-killing innovation, it at least came with clear expectations. Theoretically, leaving optimization up to the individual opens opportunities for creative flourishing. In practice, it often results in ill-defined goals and an impending sense that one is never finished.

Beyond increased efficiency, the only way to greater productivity is through increased effort or time input. And an increase in time input is precisely what the modern worker is experiencing. An increase in working hours for "high earning" individuals (re: knowledge workers) was chronicled as far back as 2006, and persists to the present day. Not only is it mentally and emotionally draining, but working long hours is rather hazardous to your health, even to the point of premature death. 

We can argue whether marginal incentives – such as the possibility of a bonus – drive this practice or whether checking and responding to emails outside of work really counts as work (it does), but the fact remains that white collar Americans are working longer hours than they did pre-1970. And any decrease in working hours for "non-high earning" individuals could probably be attributed to what I will refer to as predatory scheduling, whereby employers deliberately limit hours to avoid paying benefits that would be owed to full-time workers.

But to return to white collar work, whatever happened to John Maynard Keynes's predicted 15-hour work week? Some attribute our sustained or increased working hours to competition, as though envy of the neighbor's Mercedes keeps you at the office longer. Others attribute our working hours to lifestyle inflation. This feels like an age-old trope at this point, especially to a member of the tired Millennial generation, as our collective lack of wealth has been blamed on anything from a love for lattes and avocado toast to alleged laziness. Yes, of course, people would collectively be wealthier if they would just stop trying to keep up with the Joneses.

Never mind that the cost of housing increased by 18.6% year-over-year as of September 2021, compared to a roughly 5% year-over-year growth rate from 2014 to 2020. And for renters, the median asking rent in the US in the third quarter of 2021 was $1203. And these increases occur against the well-known backdrop of real wage stagnation, as purchasing power remains stubbornly flat despite tremendous gains in productivity through the decades. 

Given these statistics, can we honestly say that we think it's merely competition or lifestyle inflation that has kept people working long hours? That returning to a flip phone instead of a pricey iPhone plan (which now is needed to pull up a QR code menu at most restaurants and is a de facto requirement of modern life) will really make the difference? As skyrocketing housing costs account for an ever larger percentage of individuals' incomes, not to mention rising healthcare costs, it seems facile to attribute our working hours to competition when the fact of the matter is that it simply costs a lot of money to live these days. 

Is it any surprise that in our rent-seeking culture (think literal rental properties with skyrocketing prices, as well as subscription services, professional licensing costs, hedge fund managers, favorable oil leases on public property, etc.) that entrenched systems of employment seek further rent, in the form of renting your time? Our economic system pays you for your time rather than your productivity. And this turns out to be an excellent deal for the established system as the collective productivity of workers has outpaced wages by a factor of approximately 3.5 to 1 since 1970. By my count, divided by a factor of 3.5, a 40 hour week becomes 11.4 hours, even better than Keynes's predicted 15 hours.

Now let's bring it all back to the topic at hand: productivity. I do not mean for this to be an anti-productivity post, not in the slightest. What I am advocating for is balance. 

Let's take a quick example. I love writing, and one of the outlets I have for my writing is this blog, among other projects. However, I was past my own self-imposed deadline for this post, in part because so much of my time is taken up by work. Even when not at work, the mental toll that a long week can have can make it difficult to prioritize the activities that you want to do outside of work, even when you know that those very activities will rejuvenate you. What a twisted, negative-feedback loop we can find ourselves in.

So push back. Establish boundaries. Work hard at your job – even optimize your processes – but then leave your job at work. If you are fortunate enough to make a livable wage, don't fall into the temptation to work longer hours because of a vague notion of competition or of lifestyle escalation. We are more efficient than ever, and with continued technological and productivity gains, that trend is likely to continue. It's past time for those gains to be reflected in our control of our time, as well.

Thoreau #4, or Cheap Society

Let us return to our series on Thoreau with a discussion of his thoughts on society and the frequency with which we see one another. The topic is apropos for our modern day where, thanks to cell phones and the internet, we are rarely out of contact with our entire network unless we choose to be. If Thoreau felt that seeing one another in person too often could result in a cheapening of relationships, one can only imagine what he would have to say about our incessant texting, emailing, and messaging. 

"Society is commonly too cheap. We meet at very short intervals, not having had time to acquire any new value for each other. We meet at meals three times a day, and give each other a new taste of that old musty cheese that we are. We have had to agree on a certain set of rules, called etiquette and politeness, to make this frequent meeting tolerable and that we need not come to open war. We meet at the post-office, and at the sociable, and about the fireside every night; we live thick and are in each other’s way, and stumble over one another, and I think that we thus lose some respect for one another. Certainly less frequency would suffice for all important and hearty communications."

Where to begin? This quote is near and dear to my heart, for a number of reasons. One such explanation that the reader may assign to this is standoffishness. However, dear reader, don’t think me so simple, nor think such things of Thoreau himself. 

While I am – and Thoreau was – decidedly introverted, I am not averse to human interaction, nor should you be, either. We have already covered how no one can exist truly isolated, and the above quote in no way alters that fact. As an aside, and while we are on the topic, I strongly recommend reading Susan Cain’s exceedingly accurate and masterful book Quiet. It is spot on in its analysis and description of navigating life as an introspective and solitude-seeking individual, of which I no doubt am, Thoreau no doubt was, and perhaps you are. If so, the above quote from Thoreau likely resonates with you, as well.

But then let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Let’s examine that first sentence: “Society is commonly too cheap.” It is such a simple statement that carries so much weight. Thoreau is not talking about society as a whole, or even the prevailing culture of the time. It wasn’t that there was a dearth of quality artists or thinkers in the mid-nineteenth century, and Thoreau chose to level a pointed critique at society as a whole. Rather, Thoreau is speaking to society in terms of guests invited over to one’s home or out for an evening, what we would more commonly refer to as company.

This statement rings even truer in the modern world, where we can be constantly connected with one another via the internet and our phones. Thoreau isn’t necessarily calling any one of us bad company, but oftentimes too frequent company. When we interact on such a regular basis, it becomes difficult to bring anything new or noteworthy to the table when we again speak. If I have just spoken with you yesterday, and nothing notable has occurred in the day since, there is really no reason to drop you a line on the basis that we have a traditional standing appointment of hearing from one another.

Frequent communication lacking new intrigue is a recipe for setting up an echo chamber, as we see with modern social media. With nothing new or better to discuss, conversations will quickly lapse into familiar and established ruts: complaints about work, complaints about the weather, complaints about other people, rehashing political viewpoints that have already been articulated, re-debates of the merits of keeping or trading player X from team Y, the list goes on. If we cannot garner anything more robust to talk about than the above list or similar, perhaps it would be best to either let the silence remain or to seek out fresh company.

Fresh company does not have to mean finding someone else to spend your time with, though that is a valid option. For, you see, you may find yourself to be the best company at given times. This is not a pass to be anti-social. In many cases you should and will even want to be in the company of others. However, it is also important that we all know how to spend time alone with our thoughts, comfortably and without allowing those thoughts to become self-destructive. Self-destruction can come in several forms including berating yourself for past mistakes, allowing yourself to make new mistakes in the same vein as those past mistakes, having belittling thoughts of others or yourself, slothfulness, and so forth.

I caution against slothfulness in particular because this is one of my acute weaknesses. Generally, I would be described as a type-A, driven individual, which in most cases holds true. There are times, however, when my most self-destructive habit is a sort of slothfulness and inaction resulting from a combination of fear, anxiety, and worst of all, boredom. 

Fear and anxiety usually stem from the fear of knowing that I have a lot on my plate, but at times, no motivation to do it. Fear and anxiety can also stem from a feeling of loneliness and isolation. It all plays out into a sort of ambivalence. Each of these can be easy enough to do battle with, though. In the case of the former, make action a part of your daily life until it is ingrained in you as part of your routine. It becomes routine to look at the list of to-do items in your head, or on paper if you’re of that mold, and begin attacking them. It isn’t so important whether you get to everything or are successful in every aspect. The key is that you make progress, thus avoiding fear-induced slothfulness in the first place. 

In the case of the latter, modern society provides numerous ways to get in touch with friends, even across great distances. Say you’ve moved to a new city, and you’ve been gone long enough that, even after making new friends, you begin to miss your old friends. Technology provides you ample ways to contact them, and you just might find, as Thoreau alludes to, that your relationship has been enhanced by even a brief separation.

Now I want to address boredom-induced slothfulness. This is the most subtle and perhaps the most difficult to deal with, though in principle it should be less so. I hesitated and consequently chose not to refer to it as contentment-induced slothfulness, because of the positive connotation attached to the word contentment. However, this may be a fair characterization of the feeling. 

Contentment or boredom – whichever you prefer in this instance – is what makes it difficult for me to start and finish – particularly finish – a blogpost such as this. At times I can be content in the plans that I have for the blog, and therefore find myself unmotivated to actually work on it. Envisioning the finished product of a blog post and how it may be received can undermine the drive to actually put in consistent work on the blog, though writing invariably brings me joy. We are getting off course from discussing the company we keep and how frequently, so let's return to our main premise. 

Though we need to become comfortable in the company of our own thoughts, keeping exclusively our own company too often becomes a recipe for self-destruction. Just as relationships may become stagnant with too frequent communication, we also run the risk of stagnating ourselves by not recognizing the signs and allowing solitude to turn into loneliness and to get the better of us. Each individual will have different tolerance levels for human interaction as well as for solitude. It is up to you to find that happy medium which neither allows society to become too cheap nor isolates you from it.

Less time engrossed in our own company and less in the company of those familiar to us also leaves the door open for more opportunities to make new acquaintances. It is a well-meaning game that we all play in which we hope that we might positively influence someone else’s life, just as they hope that their interactions with us will have had a similar effect. You will find that touching someone’s life in such a way, however briefly, will indeed, suffice, and commonly result in a richer society.

Sonnet 73, or The Onset of Autumn

Bryce Canyon, Utah

The autumn season officially begins today. For some, that means falling leaves and changing colors, as in my photo above from Bryce Canyon one October a few years back. For others, it means the onset of football, the re-emergence of pumpkin spice-themed beverages, and a return to school. For others, it means a cooling of the weather and a long-awaited (or dreaded) return to cozy coats and sweaters. For others, it's merely a scientific recognition of the earth's changing position as it revolves around the sun.

And for still others, autumn marks a time of reflection. It's a well-worn trope, but for good reason. Autumn reminds us of the end of all things. It reminds us that there will come a day when we are no longer youthful, and all that we have to look back upon are our memories of what once was. This feeling is captured splendidly in William Shakespeare's famous Sonnet 73, which is reproduced below.

That time of year thou mayst in me behold

When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang

Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,

Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.

In me thou see'st the twilight of such day

As after sunset fadeth in the west,

Which by and by black night doth take away,

Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.

In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire

That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,

As the death-bed whereon it must expire,

Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by.

This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,

To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

The imagery is resplendent, as the reader can practically feel the chill wind upon their face and watch the final yellow leaf fall gently to the earth. It takes the reader and puts them firmly in a memory of their own. For Shakespeare, and for many of us in the mid-latitudes of the northern hemisphere, autumn also marks a return to crisp mornings, chilly evenings, and even a bit of frost upon the ground. 

Autumn does eventually lead to a time of slumber in winter followed by renewal in spring. But in autumn, let's pretend that we do not know what awaits. All that we have to guide us is a slowing down that can be felt. The days shorten – as Shakespeare eloquently captures in his description of the setting sun – the weather cools, and the air simply has a feeling about it. It is calm and relaxed. 

Autumn invites us, too, to slow down, to take a break from our ceaseless pursuit of productivity (more on this in a future post). Shakespeare even warns of such pursuits, warning us that we – which is to say, life – will inevitably be "Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by." The Bible likewise instructs us that things will one day come to an end: "The end of all things is near. Therefore be alert and of sober mind so that you may pray" (1 Peter 4:7). Whether you are inclined to pray or not, I read this as a call to reflection. Slow down and be of sober mind, so that you may reflect on life and its many blessings, as well as its many hardships. Nonetheless the implication is clear: slow down. 

Shakespeare ends by imploring us "To love that well which thou must leave ere long." This is a concept which is preached in nearly every philosophical and religious tradition: be present. Do not let your mind dwell on that which is not in front of you, lest your time slip away and you not even notice. As Ecclesiastes 3 reminds us, there is a time and a season for everything. Autumn is the time and the season for rest and reflection. Be not wearied, rather, cozy up and take time to listen for the "Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds [sing]." Listen well, and you may find that you hear more than just birdsong.