WHILE AWAY

March 17th, 2021

It’s an interesting discrepancy that we generally adhere to eight hour work days and yet it’s widely acclaimed that we only really get four hours of quality work done.  What exactly is happening during those other four hours, or the other twelve for that matter?

The obvious and widely denied truth is that we aren’t actually as productive as we think.  We don’t actually take breaks from our strenuous and continuous work, it’s more the other way around:  we take breaks from our laziness in order to get something done.

Perhaps such a statement comes across as cynical and judgemental, but on the contrary, it’s in line with our evolution. (Another grand statement…). But in terms of energy and efficiency it makes sense:  an animal that can make more use of less energy is exactly the name of the game when it comes to evolutionary and environmental pressure.

Now when it comes to intelligence, a new definition is applicable:  intelligence is efficient laziness.  Or rather, intelligence can allow you to get the same thing done in less time by finding a better way - that’s efficiency.  Work smarter, not harder.

And yet we are beset with the guilt of not getting more done, of being lazy, procrastinating, and wasting that precious time.  Perhaps the only real problem isn’t actually wasting time, but feeling bad about it.  What if the guilt we feel about procrastination actually perpetuates the procrastination?  Is there any possibility that we’d get started sooner and be more productive if we held no ill will about doing nothing and wasting time when in fact that’s the default?

All progress is just a short break from the holy task of wasting time.  Our real problem isn’t a  of productivity, but an ability to enjoy those moments as they while away.

THE MUSIC IN LANGUAGE

March 16th, 2021

Which came first: language or music? The debate is probably as old as our ability to form the question with language, and considering that a graphical representation of both music and language came long after the invention of both, there’s probably no way to know definitively the answer.

While there are countless aspects of both that may hint at an answer, one of these aspects is the fluidity both have, and how well that fluidity extends the core purpose of each. With music this aspect is so obvious and self-explanatory it probably doesn’t warrant description: if music flows than it functions, by default. Whereas language can accomplish much the same but undermine it’s function. Devious orators can spin webs of sweetly sounding convictions, arguments and rationale without actually crafting something that is sensical when closely examined. It’s through this relation to music that language can be welded in dishonest ways. The loophole is that human memory is very limited and we cannot maintain a perfect transcript of what a person has said while listening. We can only pay partial sense and because of this we instead tune into the music and rhythm of the language. This fluid code is imbued with emotion which can make sense without being consistent. To prove the point we need only think of a time we’ve. Been incredibly upset with a person we love dearly. The emotions we hold for such a person are contradictory, but still the situation makes sense. The logic of an argument, on the other hand, cannot so easily sustain such a contradiction, unless of course it simply sounds good. This is the music of language at work: we hear the beat of a certain intent and understand without delving into the details where a devil might live.

This deceptive phenomenon seems to imply that music most likely came before language, and that the sense-making apparatus came after music, growing out of the primordial communicative traits of music which lack all specific detail.

Notice how the musical aspects of language can be used to undermine the purpose of language, but the similarities and influences of language have no such detrimental effects on the efficacy of music. Even terrible lyrics often go totally unnoticed. The words of songs often make no sense, like pieces of post modern poetry that are truly impossible to make any connection to outside the emotional context which music creates.

It seems we’ve been singing since the beginning, but slowly an improved structure of sense making has grown within that song. But, we are still at risk of the seductive powers of a song that is misaligned with our hopes, goals, and dreams.

MEDITATIVE HAMMER

March 15th, 2021

A hallmark of depression and anxiety is perseveration, or the continued and repeated occurrence of an unpleasant thought.  The mind becomes like a broken record of subversive affirmation.  This sort of mental behavior can persist for years, decades and potentially for many unfortunate people’s entire lifetimes.

We are usually so close to our thoughts that we fail to see a separation.  Are our thoughts not a representation of who we are?  As odd as it may seem, the answer is no.

With a little practiced separation from thoughts and emotions we gain the ability to choose which thoughts are best to entertain, and which are best to let pass into oblivion.  With enough training, the experience of perseveration diminishes until even the memory of such a mental habit is forgotten, passing into oblivion.

The mental training of mindfulness achieves this separation, if given enough time and practiced with enough consistency.  When such a practice is robust and mature, the experience of a negative or unproductive thought changes completely.  Instead of a struggle that invariably perpetuates the exact thing we are trying to stop, a meditation practice becomes a tool that can be implemented at a moment’s notice.  Whereas the popular conception of meditation is a mind devoid of thoughts, it’s perhaps better thought of as a mind that can decide to let go of a thought.  The difference is important.  A mind devoid of thought precludes future thoughts, but this isn’t possible.  Thoughts pop up as if on their own accord, but the meditative mind may let go of them as they emerge.  For a person who was once tortured by thought, the practice shows it’s true power when on the rare circumstance this old style of thought comes back.  The mental training slams down on the old unwelcome thought like a hammer, crushing it out of mind and existence.

A LUCILIUS PARABLE: TOOL

March 14th, 2021

Lucilius was feeling particularly lazy.  Far more than usual, which is saying something because one of Lucilius’ most prominent and often used definitions of life was that it’s a constant battle with himself to keep laziness at bay in order to achieve anything.  And during this particular struggle with laziness, Lucilius was looking around to outsource his responsibility.  He happened to be taking a creative writing course, for what purpose and use, he couldn’t for the life of him figure out, and he was currently staring at a blank word document in a vain attempt to think of a story that was due the next day for class.  He engaged in those nonsense shenanigans that a procrastinating human in solitude always resorts to: making strange sounds, contorting his face to represent fantastical characters and situations, and then finally, his procrastination was interrupted by the distraction of his roommate coming home.

“Yay, you’re home,” Lucilius remarked.

The roommate was clearly preoccupied with some thoughts, an ambient stress, and didn’t response other than the subtle cues a person will give with facial expression and body to indicate, ‘yes, I heard you.’

“I need your help,” Lucilius said.

The roommate continued with their routine of arrival, hanging their jacket and unpacking a knapsack.

“I need an idea for a story,” Lucilius continued.  “I have a due date.”  Lucilius was completely slumped on the couch displaying the perfect expression of laziness and a lack of productivity.

“Give me an idea about what to write about,” Lucilius restated.

Lucilius pathetically pouted his lips out and asked again with long drawn out words.

“Pleasssssse.”

Lucilius’ roommate finally turned and paid him some attention.  “No, I am not creative like you.  I don’t even understand why you would ask me every week like this.  I’ve never given you an idea.  You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“Well,” Lucilius said, “I don’t need a whole story, I just need a little idea, like a kernel, a seed, just a taste.  Then it’s really easy to imagine the story around the idea.”

The roommate seemed to just ignore Lucilius, while he pushed out his pouted lip even more and then smiled.

Lucilius did not stop pestering his roommate, until finally the roommate in a fit of desperation to just be left alone for some peace and quiet yelled “Tools!”

Lucilius was happy there was finally some back and forth, but it wasn’t enough.  “You can’t just say a noun!  You have to tell me something about tools for me to see a story.”

The roommate rolled eyes.  “You’re the one who is supposed to be coming up with a story.”

“I just need an idea.”

“I said ‘tools’.”

“But what about the tools?”

The roommate took out a can of soup and the can opener and set about trying to get a quick dinner going.

Lucilius in the meantime set about on the task to become even more annoying about his ask, becoming a broken record of demand, asking over and over.

The small tool came round the can to it’s start, but the lid did not pop off.  Instead the small rim that allows the opener to latch on clipped off.  The roommate lifted the metal hoop, looking at it and sighed.  The can still wasn’t open and now the opener would no longer latch on.  Lucilius’ roommate was tired and now aggravated with the obnoxious turn of events with an easy dinner suddenly a hassle and Lucilius going on and on like a child about wanting help.

The roommate lifted the can opener and spoke at it, but answered Lucilius.  “Write about a tool which makes it impossible to work when you use it because it doesn’t actually work.”

Lucilius sat up.  “That’s an excellent idea! I love it!”

“Good,” the roommate mumbled while opening the fridge.  “Now leave me alone.”

Lucilius clacked away at his story while the roommate finally organized something to eat in peace.  Finally sitting down after a long day, Lucilius’ roommate breathed easy, took at sip of wine and smiled limply at the meal.  While chewing a first bite the roommate noticed Lucilius smiling suspiciously.

“What?” The roommate asked with a full mouth.

“You realize you’ve set a precedent, right?”

“Huh?”

“You gave me a great idea.  You were wrong all along, you do have good ideas, so I’ll expect another one next week.”

ANTICIPATING NOSTALGIA

March 13th, 2021

The emotional resonance of the past dominates.  So much so that we often miss out on the moment, and the impact that moment could have on who we are and how we experience life, and most importantly, the nostalgia we might develop for what is passing by right now.

An appreciation for the moment inevitably requires an abandonment of the past and a displacement of future plans — if only temporary.

If such a fact impresses anything it’s the fact that we are potentially missing out on so much in the present by diverting attention to past embarrassments, sorrows, regrets and even pleasures and prides.  Just as we rest on laurels won from past achievements, we stew on past failure and heart break, and just as resting on laurels decapitates our ability to innovate and progress, a determined concentration on the unfortunate events in memory blind us from opportunities of the moment.

If anything we should look to anticipate nostalgia, meaning, we should anticipate moments that will last indelibly in memory as treasured gifts.  To do otherwise is to miss moments absent-mindedly, like scrolling uselessly on a phone while a child takes first steps.  

While civilization goads us to become more and more preoccupied with distractions and plans for the future, and frail psychology ropes us into perseveration over a past of disappointment, we are cleaved from the real gift of living more and more.

The past is double edged in it’s painful reminder and it’s bittersweet remembrance, but as time slides by, our focus can learn from the experience of memory.  Repeated exposure to something embarrassing or a mistake most certainly has far less of an ideal impact on our ability to navigate the future than does an appreciation for past good.