We used to
drive horses, then cabs, and now Uber. Ideas, hardly new, get retranslated to match the demands of modern times.
First came the radio, then television, and now the pocket-sized smartphone. Each iteration seemed to enhance our addiction to glow.
From snail mail to email, to instant messaging — this time is different they say, confusing progress with advancement.
brain roaming. Let it unbuckle into the window of boredom that bleeds into wisdom and insight.
We are at peak attention. Additional information complicates and confounds. By keeping you bondage, it erodes your attention muscles so that you can’t even daydream.
Too many thoughts at once, not even our own. We’ve succumbed to profundity and surrendered everything to aggregated choice.
Advancing so fast, undermining the clarity anchor of a much-needed pause. Unhindered, our eyeballs go on sale to the highest bidder.
Hope is not a strategy.
Hope is also a selfish emotion — we look it to bolster our well-being.
Hope is convenient. It’s the nearest dopamine hit in a crowd of external placebos.
But hope is sometimes all we got. It never capitulates. Good things take time and a lot of practice.
Just don’t expect hope to be as comfortable as the suburbs nor as empty as a fresh calendar.
Soon enough hope will fill up with a little bit of luck.
gif via Shane Beam
A combination of elements, a mere idea transforms into something new.
From Polaroid to
Instagram, railroad to internet, snail mail to email, what is the future but a remix of stems mashed up and built on top of extant systems.
We introduce new things and promptly forget that they already existed, in the guise of an outdated format.
is new are the experiences and artifacts. We cultivate a new culture from upgrades in medium. But novelty is not always benevolent.
For instance, once a beacon of hope, the internet went from green fields of opportunity to havens of
But just as trying to escape demons gives them power, finding little pockets of light sprinkle elements of hope.
Some carry on, clinging to the optimism of 1994. For many others, 1984 is just getting started.
gif via jamopi
The carrot dangles, tempting a response. But the incentive is not always worthy.
What we need more is a beautiful constraint, to cease ourselves from the pursuit of vices.
To follow unconsciously is another person’s business opportunity. Once we investigate the soul, the rest follows, and we can avoid the trap.
art via giphy
You can’t dream about the world from below. It takes climbing a hill, mountain, or riding up to the Eiffel Tower to look out and see an entire world below in your grasp.
Writes Tomas Tranströmer in “
“Outside New York, a high place where with one glance you take in the houses where eight million human beings live.”
Where your attention goes, your energy flows. From above, the
mind bleeds into the world below, overturning everything you believe in.
Feeling inspired, perhaps larger than life, the elevator takes us back down to normal intensity where such closeupness suppresses exploration.
You can still collect the world from the street, but up and above is really where you understand it.
Stuck and predictable. We stop beating the heart to our own drum.
Instead of chasing our dreams, we ride the coattails of others.
We become a cog that seeks to please rather than to push.
How we align our attention, to the duty or to the clusters of individual freedom, is what determines our self-worth.
The story we tell ourselves works to combat the harsh reality of Monday mornings.
We buck the reassurance of controlled variables for the sake of a cloudy destiny.
We all want to be fifteen minutes ahead of everybody, fifteen minutes of fame, and fifteen minutes of bliss.
Not ten, not five, but fifteen.
Fifteen is just enough time to bake in an experience, to create something memorable even if we don't deem it worthwhile.
We feel the freest when we're most in danger, the paradox of escaping everydayness.
In search of a stimulus, the rush of blood to the head turns a moment into a milestone of excitement.
mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.” John Milton
Once we scratch the itch, life can go on.
A fleeting fifteen minutes is sometimes all we need to keep going. It's the clock that stops.
mind never gets sidetracked. It either chews on the immediate interesting thing or gravitates to the next fascinating subject.
Needless to say, we’re never really bored. We care about everything in front of us. The levers of regard fluctuate even to the pillars of our own energy.
Moored to reality, we nonetheless flock to the imagination. We are condemned to interestingness.
Goal setting is like game setting. You start at level 1 and graduate into unforeseen directions.
If you’re lucky, you’ll ping-pong forward, making leaps and bounds.
But more often than not, declaring your ambitions acts as a compass, guiding you with mere suggestions on how to proceed.
lighthouse may tease what's ahead yet what remains murky is only cleared up when confronted in reality.
Still, the opposition throws roadblocks, trying to flip your resiliency into a foot-dragging laggard.
On, in, or around — you’ll find a way to build a bridge or crush through the wall with a persistent hammer. Give into the
resistance, and it will proudly celebrate your inaction.
The goose gets bones via experimentation, the same way an athlete strengthens their body through bicep curls or a monk jogs the
brain through meditation.
Even the machine evolves to beat a chess master after learning from its own
failed iterations. Wrongs accumulate until they make it right.
The choice is yours to either show-up and move or yield to imperious anticipation. It is recommended that one spend less time pausing and more time living
en medias res.
Effort investigates the self and paves the road of life with a bunch of guesses. Fortunately, those assumptions appear to get more accurate with time.
3, 2, 1…action!
An inner radicalism tugs away at the illusion of coherence. What we strive for often makes zero sense to others, if at all to ourselves. But we feel it.
The contrarian begs to differ if only to avoid the stuckness of traditional thought.
In all likeliness, it's the things misheard, misquoted, misunderstood — mere accidents — that provoke innovation.
“I like hearing things incorrectly. I think that’s how I get a lot of ideas is by mishearing something.”
When we remove the obsession with absolutes, we roll the dice on what could be. Never certain in any outcome, confidently looking sideways at the cracks. Think different.
We want to reduce the stress in our lives, yet we keep piling on the number of things we need to do. We travel arms wide open into a tidal wave of responsibilities.
We want to restrict the data
tech companies collect from us, yet we swipe right at consent. All terms, all conditions, in favor of the Leviathan.
We want to think we're a curious bunch, open to a world unknown, yet act like novices at the ways of seeing. What is new leads somewhere new, absent the spot.
We meditate to detach the
mind from surfeit consciousness when simply going for a walk, doing the dishes, or shooting hoops produces the same relaxing effect. With little effort, the neuronal spike trains intensify in voltage.
Opposite to everything, without opposition to anything. Whatever one says is true, the opposite is equally true.
Mute/unmute Blind to our blindness Freedom within the cube
Our sensory perception tells us how we should interpret the world, which is often a series of paradoxes. It's the bits in the
brain that make the world a reality, not the external stimuli itself.
“If you could perceive reality as it really is, you would be shocked by its colorless, odorless, tasteless silence.”
David Eagleman, neuroscientist
Like breathing in air, we take the information we need and spit it back out. A cycle of gases, presence is a gif loop stuck on belief.
mind is perpetually stuck in the future, worried about tomorrow instead of tomorrow's yesterday.
It's as if we're running toward an elusive finish line, lured by the temptation of retirement.
Hold up…why do we move so fast?
Skimming and skipping produce a race to the bottom. We expect the algorithms and Google shortcuts to provide the answers and solve a lack of intelligence.
Learning, of patience, through experience, stokes pure wildness. It is how we evolve.
Insecurity is life. In the attempt to lock it into place, we forfeit the musicality of motion.
Putting down the irreality of our screens, foregoing speedy impressions, we finally realize our potential.
This pace is the place to be.
gif via Toby Cooke
Open to detours, fixated on the wrath of curiosity. The single-minded goal-setter scrounges for practice.
In theory, doggedness is the least path of resistance. Like a magnet, we're drawn to specialized learning.
But we can't afford to put the right
brain to sleep. Quiescent, it too begs to act.
The creative compulsion knows no boundaries. It explodes in those non-cash working hours, when you're raging with inspiration.
Like making music, the notion of work and play intertwine.
“The physical universe is basically playful. There is no necessity for it whatsoever. It isn’t going anywhere. It doesn’t have a destination that it ought to arrive at. But it is best understood by its analogy to music. Because music as an art form is essentially playful. We say you play the piano, you don’t work the piano.”
We're programmed to be ourselves, following the siren song of our
vocation. Fight our calling, and we'll lose. There will be no such luck.