HORMESIS

January 31st, 2019

This term is used in biology to describe some sort of agent that is beneficial in small doses and toxic in large doses.

A classic example is physical exercise.  A little goes a long way, but too much causes damage.  Many phytochemicals in plants are believed to have a similar kind of hormetic effect. 

We might try to transfer this concept to a more abstract world and ask what hormesis would look like in our ability to learn?

Here the hormetic agent is unavoidable.  We learn only by trying to interact with that which we do not understand.  The unknown is perhaps the ultimate example of hormesis.

Too much of it and we become overwhelmed.  But in small doses we can nibble away and slowly pull back the curtain as we resolve confusion and put things together.

Simply put, learning is sped up by a careful mitigation of the size and scope of confusions we engage with.

We would be unwise to bite off more unknown than we can chew.   Not simply because it’s overwhelming, but without any understanding, we lack a starting point from which to start. 

We might for a moment think of being teleported to a place that speaks a totally unknown language.  The experience can be overwhelming, but luckily we would still be in the company of humans who do the same things that we do.  We are not in a totally unknown place because we have the physical world and the knowledge of how people generally behave to serve as a starting point.  We track down a couple of key words and then begin working up from there.  We do not on the other hand begin with an attempt to write a linguistic treatise about the new language’s grammar. 

This hormetic view of learning and confusion gives rise to a useful and practical question that we can keep handy when dealing with something confusing.

Am I trying to understand too much of this?  Is there any way I can look at a smaller part of this problem and try to understand just that part? 

If we can scale down our scope with this question, we might find the feelings of frustration and aggravation that so readily accompany confusion being replaced by a nascent curiosity, especially when our efforts begin to garner small victories in such unknown land.

THE TRICK

January 30th, 2019

How many tricks do we hear about?  We broadcast some problem to the world and someone chimes in with, “well you see the trick is. . .”  And perhaps it’s misguided or just the banter of someone trying to show off, or perhaps, it’s spot on.

Often we are resistant to such things.  The logic goes that, “no, it can’t be that simple.”  But often when it comes to a trick to make something work, the solution is often simple.  So simple in fact that it might even seem to bypass the problem.  Often, however, this is achieved by meeting the problem head on in such a straightforward way that the whole situation, problem and all becomes simplified to a point that can even be baffling.

We should ask, why is the trickster so quick to chime in and why are we so quick to resist, deny and continue on the premise that the real solution must be more difficult and complex?

Is it perhaps because we had not figured out the trick on our own?  And that absence of achievement somehow becomes an indication of our intelligence or cleverness?

Worse still we might be simply flustered by the mere possibility of these circumstances to properly hear a trickster out and follow their logic through in their fresh context.

What this dichotomy of experience outlines is really the difference before and after confusion. 

Compare for a moment the way we perceive a problem before it is solved and after it’s solved.  Before a solution has been found, a problem can feel incredibly complex.  But after we’ve instituted a solution we think that there was no real trick to it at all. 

In retrospect good solutions seem obvious. 

The trick is not the solution.  The trick is switching to the necessary perspective - a far more nebulous and difficult task.

And yet nearly all of us have had the rare experience walking into a new situation and seeing the solution as clear as day while everyone else scratches their head.  Does this strange occurrence happen because of some kind of innate ability or does it have more to do with our perspective both from the standpoint of emotional neutrality and mental clarity.

In fact, could any disposition be more generally wished for when faced with a problem?  Mental clarity and emotional neutrality? 

We have all furthermore had the experience of being shown how to do something by someone older who has accomplished the task many times. 

How often have such experiences been punctuated by the declaration: there’s no trick to it!

Though from the perspective of someone brand new to the task, things can often appear to be accomplished by a kind of magic.  Rarely is such an experience coupled with mental clarity and emotional neutrality.  Often there is a mental fog generated by a frenzy of unhelpful emotion, whether it be stress or simple nerves.

The two people in such a situation are a repetition of what we spoke of earlier.  The senior agent who says there’s no trick to it is in the same position as the trickster who begins an explanation by saying “the trick is to…[do this or that]”.  Both inhabit the space beyond confusion.

The solution to a problem feels like a trick when we are blind to it, and often it feels like we’ve performed a kind of magic trick just after we’ve found a solution.  That high of small accomplishment is the lifeblood of working towards goals, but it’s also the invigorating sensation that we need to search for.  Any job that has any kind of repetition becomes a kind of monkey-work after.  It becomes boring due to the mere fact that we know what is going to happen and we know exactly what we need to do.

On the other hand we admire and even idolize artists of all kinds because they are continually pushing into that confusing, unknown space and bringing back all sorts of novel jewels.  They might go about this with a repetition of craft but that is a strategy which continually explores the unknown.  We admire such people because – in simple terms – they seem to be living life to the full.  But if we break down this vague and unhelpful phrase, we find that such people are looking for a trick, a solution, a hack – all of which represent novel value mined from spaces most people are too afraid to venture into. 

If we do not find a way of living that allows and impels us to continually venture into the unknown than we cease to feel alive.  We grow bored.

As in so many cases, we can learn from children once more.  If the daily grind is just that, boring and repetitive, we should take note of a child’s curious volatility.  We might ask: what would happen if I

toggled the seriousness down,

the humor up,

the fear down,

the curiosity up,

the attachment to safety down,

the thirst for the next solution up,

in order to find the next trick.

Perhaps the only trick we need to be aware of is that there’s a trick  to fit every problem, if only we can believe it exists and continue to tinker, unabashedly.  

This episode references Episode 49: Confusion or Curiosity.   

RUBBER DUCK

January 29th, 2019

In the world of computer programming, the Rubber Duck is an unlikely superhero.  As it goes, many programmers, when stuck on a problem regarding code, have the experience of trying to explain the code and the problem to someone else and then suddenly hit upon the solution in the midst of explanation.  The other listening person is not even needed in this process, which gives rise to our inanimate Rubber Duck, sitting on there on the desk, waiting to listen about any problem we have.

The fascinating aspect of the Rubber Duck phenomenon is that the solution is not found externally.  The whole process merely repackages the current situation for the person stuck on the problem.  Somehow we see our thoughts differently if we say and hear them as opposed to just think them. 

We have all been stuck in a RUT or circular thinking, riding a merry-go-round of the same thoughts.  What the Rubber Duck phenomenon helps highlight about this is: If we are stuck on a problem, silent thinking is one of the least effective strategies we can attempt.  And yet it’s the most likely.

This might, for a moment sound like it’s in opposition to taking a thoughtful pause, but recognizing this sort of perpetual silent thinking is exactly when we should take a pause and thoughtfully consider what is going on, to realize that we are stuck in an unproductive whirlpool of silent thinking, to realize that we need to switch up our strategy.

Think for a moment about a child alone with a favorite stuffed animal.  What does the child do?  Talk.  Even when no one who can actually listen is around.  We may remember doing this ourselves.  And we can pause and wonder what exactly is going on?  Why do children talk to inanimate objects.  It’s unlikely that children really believe that the stuffed animal can actually hear and understand.  But then we must also acknowledge that child is not consciously invoking some kind of mental strategy.  But at the same time a child is unburdened with the self-conscious constraints of adulthood and experiments and tinkers unabashedly.  Most actions by young children are undertaken simply to see ‘what will happen’.  Considering the Rubber Duck phenomenon, it’s clear that when we talk out loud to ourselves, something is happening that we do not achieve while silently thinking.

Most all of us can benefit from getting out of our own heads a little more.  Perhaps we should all carry around a Rubber Duck for those times when we find ourselves stuck.

This episode references Episode 125: Rut, Episode 23: Pause

SETTLING

January 28th, 2019

The question: “are you settling” has an appropriately negative connotation.  We might be asked this when one of life’s quandaries has somewhat tentatively been decided upon.  Even the one who has made the decision is likely to ask this question of themselves.

What lies within this question is a worry that we are slowing down in some fundamental way.  That our decision is somehow a setback and that a different decision could somehow move us forward in a way that is in accord with some higher imagined value.

To settle is inevitably to settle for less than you should.  Otherwise, such phrasing is not used.  It’s often been observed that if you have to ask if you’re settling, then you are.

But no matter how obediently we fulfill the root of the word settle, which derives from the simple act of taking a seat, we are still being pushed through time inexorably.  While we can take a moment to pause our thoughts and take inventory of what is going on, we cannot in fact pause time.  There is no settling and it’s for this reason we like to remind one another how life can pass us by. 

One of the current concepts in wellness, productivity and fulfillment is the ‘optimal challenge’.  We as humans seem to atrophy in all sorts of ways if we are not challenged, either physically or mentally, and both through some kind of learning or problem solving.

Within the worry about settling is the question of whether or not we are being optimally challenged.  Superficially we ascribe some kind of value judgment to the question, as in: are you settling for less than you’re worth?  This is an underdeveloped corner of language because value is highly correlated with some kind of quantifiable metric, like money.  It’s not only taboo to value someone in accordance to such a metric, it’s unwise for the very reason that a quantifiable metric is not a process and has no inherent potential.  A quantity is not a dynamic entity, it is –at the moment it is measured- a static, settled fact.  The very act of attributing a value to something is a form of settling.  The image of two people bargaining or haggling over a price might arise as two people who are trying to settle on a common agreed price.  While this act might be useful in the markets, simply for the reason that if we could never settle on a price for even a small amount of time, nothing would ever change hands, it does not make sense to do it with people, nor ourselves.  Even the value of a given product changes and goes up and down over time.  A human being represents a far more dynamic process.  But as we are all familiar with, we can experience the eerie spectrum of feeling like we are moving forward in life, or being stagnant, or even spiraling some kind of drain.  Moving forward might be described as achieving things, or navigating obstacles with an efficient variety of strategies, and being stagnant on the other hand might be described as settling, which is closer to spiraling that drain which is a whole different story.

One fickle benefit that seems to arise from language is our ability to compartmentalize different parts of our life.  This is perhaps unavoidable since language itself is simply a vast network of categorizes.  Our tendency to shy away from uncertainty makes the borders between these categories look opaque, when really they all exist on a spectrum of semi-permeable membranes. It’s unfortunate that such a fact doesn’t seem to affect our behavior in a meaningful way.  Or rather, it’s unfortunate that we can compartmentalize things in our life, but the drift that occurs with words does not seem to replicate in our modes of thinking.  We often fail to open the flood gates between those compartmentalized parts of our life and mix things up.  This is another form of categorical mistake, and it’s brought up here because we can so easily find that fulfilling optimal challenge in one area of our life, say at work, but then find ourselves ‘settling’ in perhaps our personal life where no optimal challenges arise.

Optimal is key here.  If we face a challenge that is too big, one we don’t know how to deconstruct, one that is simply overwhelming, then we risk falling victim to a kind of learned helplessness.  And if the challenge is too small, then the challenge is rote, and we become bored and perhaps even insulted because we feel our capacities are far greater than what such a bullshit job requires.  Gauging this optimal aspect of the challenges we choose requires a fair degree of mindfulness.  The overwhelming feelings of an overwhelming problem can create a kind of emotional feedback loop which prevents an undertaking of new challenges that we actually do have the capacity to meet with success.  Such a vicious cycle can make an individual far more likely to settle.  But as with time, we are never actually settling.  We have simply agreed to move in a new direction.  And the direction from optimal challenge to settling is a track that eventually leads to spiraling a drain.  Whether that be a lay off from an unchallenging job after decades of work, or a divorce, the seeds of such outcomes often lie in our disposition at the beginning.  While we cannot see, nor predict the future, we can safeguard against many unwholesome outcomes by mindfully seeking a sense of challenge and difficulty to ensure that we are in fact never settling, but always moving forward and growing.

This episode references Episode 139: Regretting Categorical Mistakes  

A LUCILIUS PARABLE: KEY OF COURAGE

January 27th, 2019

During a childhood summer, the father of Lucilius took the boy down the rocky headland to the water where a wooden dock rose and slowly fell with the tide.  The clear and healthy water gave view to the colors of the bottom, laid with thick bunches of mussels and the bright purples and orange of starfish.  Lucilius’ father sat to read while his son swam about in the warm water.

As the sun grew high in the sky, Lucilius grew more curious about the colorful bottom.  Crouching at the edge of the dock he studied a purple starfish that seemed not to move at all.  Lucilius’ father noticed and prompted.

“Why don’t you dive down and bring it up.”

Lucilius looked quickly at his father.  “No,” he said.

“Why not?  They don’t bite.”

Lucilius looked back down at the creature and fear grew throughout him.  The boy wanted to dive down.  He was curious, but something seemed strange and terrifying.

“Go ahead,” his father prompted once more.

And the more his father prompted him, the more Lucilius grew frightened.  His father tried to reason with the boy about how harmless the creature was, but to no avail.  And soon they had to give up on the whole idea, but Lucilius kept crouched at the edge of the dock staring down at the bright creature.

It was then another boy and a young girl came down to the dock to enjoy the warm water and sun.  The two swam about in the water and then as Lucilius had, took a notice to all the creatures on the bottom.  They were on the other side of the dock and the girl pointed.

“Look how bright that one is!” 

Lucilius looked back at the purple starfish he’d been watching and then called to them.  “Check this one out.”

The boy and the girl both came over and looked, and indeed, Lucilius had already found the biggest starfish around the dock.

“Wow,” the little girl said, “ I wonder what it feels like.”

The other boy remarked.  “We should go get it.”

And before the boy could act on his own words Lucilius dove into the water and swam down to the bottom.  He took the huge starfish by a leg and gently lifted it from the bottom, swam back and hoisted it up on the dock.

“Wow,” the little girl exclaimed.  Lucilius smiled, wiping the water from his eyes, and it was then his father began to laugh.