A LUCILIUS PARABLE: THE BOUNCE

December 9th, 2018

Lucilius was sitting on a park bench in the city in a purely dismal state.  A large company he had slowly built over a number of years had come to a disastrous end when everything seemed to crumble from beneath.  ‘Unforeseen market forces’ was the pithy and official statement, until further notice.  Dark thoughts were filling his mind as huge portions of his brain’s neural network that had been built and devoted to the project were suddenly experiencing severe down regulation due to sudden irrelevance and the retroactive imaginative planning required to try and make sense of large mistakes in the face of a need to feel certainty.  Lucilius’ mediation habits were on a long hiatus – a further cost of the now failed endeavor, and so he was not acutely aware of this whole reality.  He could only see and feel the consuming and gnawing feeling of utter failure.

It was a beautiful spring day, but Lucilius was unable to notice any of it’s splendor.  He merely sat watching the lay of his undone shoelace draped across his fine and shiny shoe.

His dismal reverie was cleaved by a sudden thud and clack of metal.  He looked up to see a young boy on the brick walkway, a small bicycle strewn next to him.  The boy was silent, looking at his situation.  He peeled his hands from the walkway and looked at his scuffed palms, inspecting them.  He tentatively rubbed them together to clear the dirt as his mother came up to him.

“honey, you ok?”

“Yep, I try again.”

The kid got up, lifted his bicycle and mounted it.  He looked forward and pushed the bicycle, trying to catch the peddles.  He fell again, checked himself and giggled some.

“You wanna be done for today sweetie?”  The boy’s mother asked.

“No, a little more.  Then we’ll come back and do more tomorrow.”

Lucilius watched the young boy continue off with his mother walking along and watching.  He’d forgotten about his own situation during the whole interlude and now it was all soaking back into his mind.  The dread and dark worry, the sheer open ended feeling that arose from a blank tomorrow.  The young boy’s words echoed in his mind, and slowly something began to rise through all that Lucilius was feeling.  After a moment, while staring at his untied shoe, he giggled.  He looked up at the trees coming into blossom, the bright sky spilling between the branches and the fresh air moving across his skin.  He hiked up his foot to the bench and tied his shoe.  Got up and walked back into the concrete jungle, slowly shaking his head with a smile.

FRACTAL MISTAKE

December 8th, 2018

It’s a common habit to give yourself grief over mistakes, poor performance, laziness and all manner of other flaws that we can find.  If we can remember that we only have the present and that the past actually does not exist, then what exactly are we doing with the present moment when we engage in such indulgent self-castigation?

We are inevitably wasting more time making a similar mistake that can likewise be the object of ridicule by a future version of our self. 

This crops up in meditation for many people.  While meditating, the mind drifts, and eventually the meditating person realizes that the mind has drifted off on a river of thought and suddenly gets frustrated and angry with the mind for not being able to do the simple task of focusing on the breath or repeating a mantra, or whatever the instruction of the meditation is during that session.    But this frustration is yet another thought that is taking focus away from the task.

We can zoom-out from this context and see the same behavioral structure occurring at a larger scale:

When failure occurs.

What is the response?  How many people become obsessed with the failure, overwhelmed by the concurrent feelings?  Nearly no one is unfamiliar with experiencing this.  We might justify our dwelling on this failure as an attempt to figure out what went wrong with our efforts, but such analysis should be relegated into two categories, both of them quick:  Either there were obvious mistakes that can easily be remedied when we try again, or, the reasons for ‘failure’ have too many factors and variables and is therefore too difficult to figure out with a high degree of certainty, at which point it’s just best to move on and take actions that will glean more information from reality, filling in these unknown variables and giving rise to more obvious mistakes that can further more be remedied on the next attempt.

The remedy to all of this is simple but difficult:

We need only to refocus.  Whether this be with our meditative focus on breathing, or refocusing on the goal that we’ve failed to achieve with previous failed attempts.  This remedy is the opposite of ‘dwelling’ on a subject, or as it’s termed in psychology, ‘rumination.’

As a side note, the word rumination originally refers to a cow chewing.  Such herbivores chew their green food over and over and over in order to make it more digestible and this repetitive action is likened to the repetitive nature of thought when someone is dwelling on a subject.  This is essentially one way of being in a RUT or at the very least a good way of carving out an unproductive RUT to get stuck in.

This dwelling or ruminating produces nothing, it is a holding pattern.  And the only thing that can be gleaned from such an activity is the fact that it’s happening – it’s a sign that more information is needed from reality, which requires interacting with reality, i.e. just plain ol’ taking action.  This holding pattern, if occurring at the initial experience of reality – that is our thoughts – will then ramify up through all versions of reality that we can experience.

Or to put it another way, if we dwell on a subject, we take no further action.  Not only is the time for thought wasted, but the time for action is wasted, the opportunity for feedback is squandered, the chance to gain more information is lost, the universe where we would have seen a new and better way to progress in life ceases to have any possibility of existing, and then our precious gift of life is spent unfulfilled.

But to think about this is to literally invoke this tragedy,

so let’s move on.

Move on to what?  Might be the next obvious question.  A question that is potentially so large as to probably invoke fear.    Our default reaction to fear is to turn away from it, and go back to doing what we know.  On a mental level, this is akin to that holding pattern.  On a day-to-day level it might be going to the same unchallenging job day in and day out, draining our energy to the point where we feel justified binging on unhealthy food and mind-numbing T.V. shows.

What’s needed is a better question.  One that does not necessarily have an answer but pushes us in a more productive direction.

We might ask:

are my priorities as thoughtfully constructed as they could be?

am I being as useful to humanity as I could be?

do I have a capacity for innovation that I am not expressing?

am I asking myself the best questions on a regular basis?

Questions are the most powerful tool we have, and we can use them to break the fractal mistake of unproductive dwelling.  And there is a simple test to know if we are asking a good question, it’s this:

If an interesting question does not spur a change in behavior and create subsequent action, then the most productive form of this question has not yet been found.

Finding those productive questions is key to shattering the fractal mistake we make by dwelling.  Asking the right question is an art and that skill is at the core of what it means to problem solve.

Our greatest mistake can simply be to forget to ask ourselves any productive questions at all.

What questions are you asking?

This episode references Episode 54: The Well-Oiled Zoom, Episode 128: Question, Episode 125: Rut, and Episode 92: Focus

BUILDING BEGINNER'S LUCK

December 7th, 2018

It’s a delicious farce to think that we can take on a new project and dive into it so fast, so immersively and completely that we nearly instantly start harvesting the fruits of our progress.

Such a hopeful concept is derived from the excitement we have thinking about the end result - the shiny treasure at the end of the cave of wonders, the anticipatory joy that happens with turning the first page of the next chapter.

But what if that next chapter is written in a different language?  What if it requires muscles we have never really used?  What if it’s best read with a totally different kind of logic and sense-making?

Such an immediate stagnation in progress can be demoralizing, and the juxtaposition to that initial excitement can often completely cancel out the emotional desire to continue on with the project.

How many people spend 5 minutes trying something new and then throw their hands up and say “I suck at this” ?

Almost everyone is guilty of this with something.  And it can benefit us immensely if we take the time to think of such defeat and fit it into our understanding of other endeavors where we ended up investing a lot of time to gain proficiency. By comparing the two, we can ask what the difference was, and where was the similarity?

We find ourselves in the territory of beginner’s luck here.  Few have not had the experience of trying something for the first time and achieving some immediate small success.  Such an event is delightfully surprising, almost instantly intoxicating and there is no one who can resist trying to build on that success.

Beginner’s luck, however, is probably an illusion.  Even if the immediate success is real.  The illusion comes from the idea that someone can be good at something with absolutely no preparation.  This is impossible, otherwise there would be some tiny percentage of newborns who immediately demonstrate skills that only come later in life.  All skill or ability is aggregated and compounded from previous experience.  In order for an infant to demonstrate language at an impressively early age, it is still necessary for that infant to actually hear the language.  So when beginner’s luck seems to suddenly manifest, we can be suspicious of it and ask what previously well-oiled tasks and abilities might combine to create sudden fluency in a seemingly new endeavor?   The most obvious example here is how athletes who specialize in one sport can perform better than the average population in other sports.  They have already gained great proficiency in tasks that require similar abilities.

Turning back to the event when after five minutes of effort we experience no success and no beginner’s luck and we are tempted to throw up our hands and give up.

Such an experience is actually quite an opportunity.  It represents an area where a lot of potential growth may occur because it is so different from what we are already good at.  Such a stretch is perhaps the best thing that we can do for the brain because it requires resources that seem to benefit the brain as a whole.  Research seems to indicate that continual learning throughout life shields the brain from cognitive decline to a degree.  There is also another opportunity in this situation.  One relating to our emotions and how we interpret and manage them.  While the emotion associated with wanting to give up is really unpleasant, knowing how to work through that emotion, by putting it to the side and remaining focused is in incredibly important skill, one that very few people have beginner’s luck with.

Something Babe Ruth once said gets to the heart of this matter “You cannot beat a person who will not give up.” 

If we have the ability to forge beyond our initial emotional reaction with any task, we will accomplish that task, because beyond that emotional reaction is a more intense focus, a greater purity of attention, and it is there in that place where the missing connection between parts that we study become luminous.

Building beginner’s luck is not so much a task of gaining some ability as it is changing our relationship to emotions that form roadblocks to our progress and motivation.

The entry fee to progress in any endeavor is really an emotional test, after that, success is a function of time, consistent effort, and attention.

GAME OF ONE

December 6th, 2018

If some new sport akin to basketball or football were invented, there would automatically be some tiny percentage of the population that would be incredibly well suited to the game and thereby making them very good at it without the development of too much skill.  Another way of illuminating this is by asking the question: “would LeBron James be as good at basketball if he were 4foot8?” 

Most likely… not.

Much of human life can be rephrased and viewed as a kind of game.  There is the corporate game of climbing that slippery pole of bureaucracy, which apparently feels more like a ladder for those with particular forms of psychopathy.

There is the game of Academia which is predicated mostly on publications and the reputation of those publications.  The world of academia has some similarities to the corporate world when it comes to the closed gates and inefficiencies that seem to be inherent in most bureaucracies. 

Then there is the game of chasing the Jones.  This is an infinite game that is impossible to win, simply because it’s always possible to make just a little bit more money, and there will always be new and more expensive ways to display that wealth.  This is a bad infinite game because it is fueled by external measurement: i.e. what the Jones’ have.

But not all infinite games are bad.  Physical fitness is a positive example of an infinite game.  You can always work on some aspect of your fitness.  Always.  Or take for example the all too prescient example of writing everyday.  This is an infinite game merely for the fact that it is possible to write everyday without ever running out of things to write about.  But the fuel for this engine has an internal source as opposed to an external one.  This is an infinite game that adds satisfaction to life as opposed to constantly down regulating it’s own effects as making money does with chasing the Jones’. 

The habit of writing everyday is also a game of one, which is perhaps even more important.  No one else can compete in such a game which creates a field of play that is both unlimited and commanded by the one who plays.   Such a field of possibility is actually quite scary to most people.  Like sitting alone with one’s thoughts in silence for 10 minutes, or staring at a blank canvas and trying to think of something to paint.  Many people shutter at such a prospect.

And yet, sadly enough, both of these circumstances would be welcome opportunities for children who are beyond the constant need to have their mother around.

It’s perhaps a valid argument that we’ve coddled our own minds back into a toddler state, seeking constant reassurance, constant pleasure, and fearing the wide open spaces of possibility that are a function of personal responsibility. 

Perhaps so few people are willing to play a game of one because they fear the possibility of losing.

But just like jewels guarded by dragons

or freedom waiting beyond the wall

or even a sense of satisfaction waiting locked up in our own head,

We have to duel with the dragon or climb the wall, or face our own fears in order to get the goods.

Regardless of which game we are playing, we can be sure we are playing one.

The question is, does this game benefit you?

Or is it just using you?

Is it perhaps time to make your own board…

make your own rules….

and play.

CHIPPING THE COMPOSITE

December 5th, 2018

Solving any large problem or finding solutions almost always benefits from a reminder that all things are composite.  Meaning, made of many parts that can be broken apart into smaller and smaller pieces.  Even high level mathematics inevitably breaks down into elementary numbers and basic operators.

No matter how insurmountable a problem seems, we need only start by asking the questions that define the problem in a way that is more conducive to chipping.

We might start by asking, “if this problem could be defined as two things, what would those two things be?”

From here we can make a tree structure that might only extend to one or two nodes in other directions, but in others we’ll be able to redefine the subcategories of the problem right down to something that is small enough as to be actionable, or something we can investigate.

Think for a moment of how lightening branches out from a cloud.  like the zigzagging fingers of an electric hand, the lightning is searching for a connection, often the ground.  The lightning never needs all of these luminous and crackling fingers to reach the ground, just one touch.  Such an occurrence might be reminiscent of the famous panel in the Sistine Chapel depicting the moment just before God and Adam touch fingertips. 

In the arena of problem solving, our analogy of branching definitions extends beyond what we see with lightning.  Chipping away at the composite until we have what might be labelled as the smallest necessary component of the problem which allows us to take some further action opens up other unknown or undefinable parts of the problem. 

Just as lightning searches through the maze of air density, looking for the path of least resistance, we might think of a thief trying to break into a building.  The thief looks for a weak spot, a vulnerability that can be leveraged and exploited.

So too with problems.  Solving the whole of any problem is usually unrealistic for our minds.  But we can needle the problem, and poke around for a point of entry where we can begin to make progress.

Curiosity naturally takes this route akin to lightning, but when we face an unenjoyable problem, often our motivation stalls.  We need only remember the composite nature of any problem, and further remind ourselves that simply thinking of the right question can not only begin the process of chipping into a problem, but it can also evoke our natural curiosity.

We must remember this every time we get hung up.  We must not be swayed by the sunk-cost of time spent investigating one angle of attack.  We must ask another question, potentially a better question.

How else can I chip away at this problem?

This is another way of saying,

How can I grow my curiosity around this problem?