A Short Dog Tale

The World as It Is. A car sped down a rural road and what looked like trash was thrown from the window. The farmer mowing nearby stopped his work and walked over to pick up whatever paper had been thrown into his field so that the mower wouldn't shred and spread it everywhere. It wasn’t paper, but a puppy just a few weeks old, covered with bruises and now with a newly broken tail. The astonished man picked him up and took him home. A friend of his sent a picture to a friend of mine named Doug who immediately adopted him and called him Miller. That was two years ago.

Recently, Doug and Miller were at Lowe's Hardware and Miller pulled hard at his leash to get to a lady standing near an end-cap. Doug pulled him back in surprise. It was odd behavior for the ordinarily well behaved dog. They found their item and got in line. Miller pulled again and this time moved around behind Doug, who then turned to see what was going on. It was the same lady. Miller was instantly sitting next to her with his head leaning on her leg. She was crying.

"I'm so sorry." Doug had no idea what was going on.

"No, no. I had to put my dog to sleep a few hours ago."

Dogs know a lot more than we think. They understand and feel in ways we sometimes can’t even imagine. Honor the animals in your life.

And maybe ask them, "How's the stock market going to do tomorrow?" And let me know.

The opening picture above is of the puppy himself on his first trip to the vet! And now two years later, the comforter: A truly good dog.

What I do.

“One of the most properly human studies is the study of what is most properly human.”

- My last waking thought before sleep.

Last night, I was almost asleep, but my mind was trying to figure out the right category for what I’ve been doing in my work for the last twenty five years. In philosophy, you’re always working in a sub-discipline. It’s the same in other academic specialties. In physics, you might be working in particle physics, on the very small, or in cosmology or astrophysics, studying the very large. In philosophy, you might work mainly in metaphysics, examining the ultimate structure of reality, or epistemology, focused on the nature of belief and knowledge, or in ethics, or aesthetics, or social and political philosophy, or logic, or the philosophy of language, the philosophy of science, or the philosophy of law. For my first two decades as a committed philosopher, encompassing graduate school at Yale and my job at Notre Dame, I was working in the philosophy of religion and philosophical theology. And it was a great experience. But I came to feel a new sense of calling, to a new adventure of ideas, and since then, I’ve been on a quest to discover the practical side of philosophy that relates to life and work in the world.

It was odd. There seemed to be no set label for what I’ve been doing. I’ve often said I was working in practical philosophy, but that’s really just a big part of what I do. I discover conceptual tools we can use all the time. But there is more to it. And then last night, right before sleep would have claimed my thoughts and transitioned me into the realm of dreams, where anything can happen and I might find myself flying in a helicopter over my home, which took up one part of the evening, or saving the world from a terrorist plot (a task that occasionally requires far too much of my attempted slumber). But right before the light of normal consciousness would go out for the night, it occurred to me that I am creating, or rediscovering and perhaps naming, an ancient domain of philosophical concern, based on the search for wisdom that has to do with every major aspect of human life this world. What I do is philosophical anthropology.

For centuries, nearly every serious philosopher did it. Much of Aristotle’s Ethics is actually philosophical anthropology. And the stoics are known for it. Seneca wrote essays on happiness and anger and solitude and grief and success. Emperor Marcus Aurelius is an exemplar of it. So is Ralph Waldo Emerson. But there are many others who have done this in the past. When I began to do it in the late 1980s, I couldn’t find any other contemporary philosophers who seemed to be on the same quest. I was alone in the wilderness without a map or a compass. But there is an excitement about being an explorer, and perhaps a bit of a pioneer. I had enjoyed a measure of that feeling in my first specialty, when I was a young philosopher right out of grad school. No serious philosophers had been working on distinctively Christian topics for a very long time, and while studying the incarnation myself, I urged on others to join me and tackle such issues as the trinity, the atonement, redemption, sanctification, distinct Christian ideas of God, and on and on. The terrain of my new calling in philosophical anthropology was quite different. I now studied such things as success and partnership and happiness, greatness and failure and leadership. And each topic opened up into many more. I flew by the seat of my pants. I followed my nose. But that juxtaposition sounds strange. My pants had no aroma whatsoever, I should quickly assure you. I slashed at the underbrush to clear a trail. Yeah, we'll go with that metaphor. It was a vast wilderness where well trained philosophers seemed to have abandoned camp, but it had been taken over by pop psychologists, and motivational speakers, and a great many flimflam men.

There was counterfeit wisdom everywhere. My job was to be a detective and dig deep and discover what’s real, while rejecting the bogus and careless and false. And in the past few years, I’ve seen more philosophers begin to come back into the area. Most who have done it take a historical approach and study the stoics, or some other past source of wisdom on our general life adventure. My process has been different. I consult as much of history as possible, and dig into great literature as much as I analyze explicitly philosophical tomes of the past. But I also talk to real people in every walk of life, in every sort of work, across economic and social levels, and facing nearly every issue of our day. As a result of over a thousand public presentations, and often working with audience members afterwards, I’ve come to hear people’s hopes and dreams and worries and fears. I’ve seen magnificent success and terrible tragedy, abject failure and deep joy, meaning and suffering, foolishness and wisdom that might surprise you. And that has put me in a distinctive place to make a difference for more people in our time. It’s the greatest ride ever. And I’m glad that you read little bits and pieces here of what I’m discovering and thinking day to day, like this. Thanks for joining me in the adventure.

The Piano Tuner

Adventure. The new. The unknown. Courage. Discovery. Personal Transformation. What people seem to be and what they truly are. These are some of the unexpected themes in a wondrous book I just discovered and read, called The Piano Tuner and written by Daniel Mason, published by Knopf in 2002.

The story takes place in the 1880s. The British are fighting to subdue Burma. A brilliant surgeon takes up residence in a remote fort, a small beautiful village, really, far from civilization, and seems to have uncanny success in bringing peace to the area of warring tribes. He leverages his success to request that the government send him an Erard piano, which is shipped and carried to him against all odds. But a piano in the jungle will have problems. So he asks for a piano tuner from London to come repair it. Thus our story begins.

What was supposed to be a three month trip from London to upper Burma solely for the purpose of fixing and tuning a rare piano turns into so much more than a brief writeup could even hint at. It’s a remarkable book on the human spirit, music, beauty, and the uncertain journeys of life.

Do yourself a favor: Grab it! Read it!

For the book on Amazon, click HERE.

The Old Man and the Sea

I just finished reading Ernest Hemingway’s little book The Old Man and the Sea for the first time in my adult life. I’m sure I had to read it in high school but remember nothing of the experience. I can imagine, however, the average student of that age saying, “We had to read this stupid story about this stupid old man and his stupid fish. It was all so stupid.”

And maybe for the young, it is. But not for those of us who have lived a bit more. It’s of course a story about a poor old fisherman in Cuba that was first published as a book in 1952 and won a Pulitzer Prize, as well as being cited in Hemingway’s Nobel Prize for Literature citation awarded two years later. First printed as a magazine article in Esquire many years before, it has haunted readers for each decade since.

The old man, Santiago, seems to have run out of luck. He’s in a dry patch. He has not caught a fish in 84 days. But he’s determined to go out and catch a big one. So he ventures out in his little boat much farther than is normal, out to where the biggest fish may be found. And after a time, he eventually hooks a huge Marlin who pulls him and his small boat farther away from land for three dqys. They fight and struggle and all the old man’s knowledge and skill are put to the test. Can he have the success of which he has dreamed? Can he endure all that is required? It's hugely difficult, but the answer is yes. The fish finally succumbs and is lashed to the boat and the old man heads back toward land with dreams of the glory and the needed practical income that will result from such a huge and perfect specimen, bigger than anyone has ever seen. It may even be a life changing accomplishment.

But the old man is out on the water alone. He has not brought along the strong boy who is his friend and who often accompanies him on fishing trips. During the extended struggle with the giant fish, he often wishes he had brought the boy with him to help. Another pair of hands could have been so useful. But he struggles mightily and prevails all alone and is glad. Yet, his solitary success is quickly followed by a new challenge. Sharks descend on the huge Marlin he has caught and the old man is limited in what he has with him to use to defend the catch. Thinking of something he could have brought with him, and should have brought along, he finally says to himself words that flow down the decades and into all of our lives:

Now is no time to think of what you do not have. Think of what you can do with what there is. (83)

When life hands you lemons, make lemonade. Or if you forgot to prepare for your adventure with sugar and water, is there at least some vodka around that you could use?

Santiago fights the first shark that attacks with a harpoon. After losing it, he lashes a knife to an oar and does battle with the next sharks who come. When that’s also gone, he begins to club at the predators. And eventually he is out of options. The thieves of the sea take more and more chunks out of his magnificent catch until there is nothing left but the spectacular spine and bones as a trophy of success and testimony of subsequent failure. He has lost what he had fought so hard to gain.

When he returns, exhausted, demoralized, bruised and cut up, he sleeps and the boy takes care of him. After they talk, the boy says: “Now we fish together again.”

The old man replies, “No. I am not lucky. I am not lucky anymore.”

“The hell with luck,” the boy said. “I’ll bring the luck with me.” (92)

And then they begin to discuss what they will need to bring along with them to be properly prepared for anything they might face together.

And that’s a perspective and trajectory we all need. Great effort is sometimes followed by failure. Even great success can wither on the vine. Don’t let disappointment stop you, however deep and desperate it might be. And never just wait for luck. Bring the luck with you. Take action. Partner up with someone who can help boost your spirits and aid your cause. Prepare. Move forward once more. Remember: There is always a new dream and a new chance and many fish in the sea.

For the book, click HERE.

A Dose of Goodness

I just finished reading Willa Cather's novel, My Antonia for the first time. It's rare that I close a book with tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat. The story, first published in 1918, is about a group of friends and neighbors in a small farming community in the Nebraska prairie during the nineteenth century. But more that that, it's a book about the beauties, wonders, sorrows, and transporting, transient joys of life that, paradoxically, can form us forever.

In our time of public ugliness and strife, it's nearly magical to be transported to a simpler time and place, and welcomed into lives that can remind us all of the most elemental possibilities for goodness in the world.

For the novel, click https://amzn.to/2CWjcuo

Flying High

Wilbur and Orville Wright were two small town bike mechanics with a dream. Everyone said they were “nuts” and “crackpots” and even people who knew and liked them as people could not figure out why they were “wasting their time” chasing an absurd impossibility. Man would never fly. It was ludicrous. But they were determined and worked hard at their dream, despite frequent setbacks, mistakes, accidents, and trials and miseries beyond anything they had ever imagined.

They might feel disappointment for a moment or hours, but the next day were back hard at work. Resilience, persistence, an attention to detail, and a courage that would not give up began to have their effects. But on one difficult day, Wilbur had been worn down and actually said that the dream might not happen for a thousand years. And then, within a year or two, it did.

But even when they were successful, most people didn’t believe it. They were ridiculed, castigated, demeaned, and called liars and worse. And yet they kept their heads up, maintained their inner poise, and kept working to improve their flying machine, pushing it to greater and greater accomplishments. When finally their success was public and undeniable, they became huge celebrities, which brought big financial payoffs, but actually got in the way of their work. And still, they found ways to persist and fight through fame as they had fought through infamy and failure.

Even though Wilbur died of typhoid fever at the age of 45, he left a lasting legacy that changed the world for us all. Orville carried on but it was never the same as the great partnership they had enjoyed, in bad times and good times. It’s a great lesson and encouragement to any of us who dream impossible dreams and struggle to bring to the world the best we can create. It helps to find a great partner who can share the dream, the work, and the eventual results. And when we face turbulent strong headwinds, we should remember what Wilbur once wrote in his notebook: “No bird soars in a calm.”

For more, go read The Wright Brothers, a great book on these guys by David McCullough.

https://amzn.to/2ExMdhQ

The Con Man and Moral Contagion

It's a phenomenon based on an increasingly popular philosophy of life. And it's sadly contagious.

I’ve just read a remarkable book for our time. The title is First Person. It’s about a young author named Kif who’s hired to ghost write the autobiography of a major con man business tycoon in Australia in the early 1990s. The man’s name is Siegfried Heidl, known to his close circle as Ziggy. On the surface, he’s a prominent character in the culture who has been arrested for his outsized, gaudy, outrageous, flashy business endeavors that, it turns out, have bilked and defrauded banks of at least seven hundred million dollars. But deeper down, the man represents an increasingly common philosophy of life. As in the case of every grifter, the con man has first conned himself, and then he corrupts everyone around him with a sort of moral contagion. We see it happen all the time. It even gets played out in the daily news now, in a constant drip of tawdry revelation.

The book begins with the young writer, who is trying to write a first novel, getting hired to work on the other book project instead and commuting from his home on a poor island to labor during the week in Melbourne, where he is to interview this celebrity CEO before his coming trial and imprisonment, take notes, and draft out a book quickly. But the con man doesn’t want to reveal anything about himself at all. And so the writer struggles. He comes to hate this blowhard, authoritarian, CEO/Grifter, and yet gradually begins to become like him in the end. I’ve copied down some sentences throughout the book that you may find fascinating, individually, and then especially in their cumulative epiphanies. The main voice is that of the young writer. No quotation marks are used. When first confronted with this man, he is astonished. Here are the passages he jots down from his early encounters with the man:

He contradicted his own lies with fresh lies, and then he contradicted his contradictions. (110)

Flattery, he said. So obvious, so easy. It’s not foolproof, but it is proof of fools. (115)

Without secrets, how are we to live? he said. (125)

And the more I saw of him, the more I found every smile, every gesture full of falsity, and each day the more frightened of him I grew. (126)

A man of unexpected shadows, in another life he might have risen to be a self-help expert, topping the New York Times bestseller lists and giving overpriced motivational lectures. And who knows what else? Personal branding. Perhaps even fragrance lines. (128)

I think he just lies. Maybe he doesn’t even care about the money and it’s just a game. (136)

And with that, he leaned back, performance done, puddles of arguments drowned in a sea of nonsense. (153)

It couldn’t last, though, I said.

Why not? So much does. (154)

He said that a coward was the most terrifying man, because there was no end to the things he might do to prove both to himself and others that he had courage. (173)

Put a corpse behind a desk and people will see their superior, he told me brightly as he put the phone down from another call to the media. (175)

… and with a seeming pride out of character he told me that for every con man born so too are a thousand fools willing to be deceived. (176)

It was his need in some fundamental way to possess everyone he encountered. At times, he felt more a contagion than a human being. (179)

(Heidl Speaking in the next three quotes):

Look around you, Kif—sickness, war, the poverty that makes people savage, the riches that make them worse. Do you think the evidence of the world is that the good are rewarded? Oh no! They’re punished. They’re beaten and tortured. They have the skin peeled off them and they’re left hanging in trees to die. The evidence of the world is that the world is evil. Cheats and liars win out, Kif. Money wins out. Violence wins out. Evil wins out. (181)

Make your choice: be a fool, lie to yourself that the world is good, and go with the good. But you will lose. … Everyone and everything is destroyed in the end by evil. You can choose good. Or you can be like me and accept the world as it is. (181)

Why deprive myself of anything, that’s what I think. Would you like a car like that? A woman? Money? You would, wouldn’t you? (182)

He went on about how he was just an ordinary man who just happened to see the world a little more clearly than other men. (183)

That was what was so confusing about him—what was genuine? What was fantasy? What was fact? All I knew was that whatever or whoever he was, I was fed up with him. (185)

Exhausted by his unbelievable laziness, his lies, his greed, his selfishness, his lunatic melodramas, I felt my frustrations transform into a wild hatred. (185)

Now I think that was precisely the point of all Heidl’s stories: to make me believe my life was based on illusions—the illusions of goodness, of love, of hope. And persuaded of that, I would betray something fundamental within myself and embrace his world as my real life. (187)

He was crazed, impossible. I was exhausted by him, angered by him, insulted by his continuing idea of me as one more credulous goon who would believe any garbage he spun. (230)

I couldn’t stomach the falseness of it all, the toying with people it involved, the perverse curiosity of placing people in extreme situations to see how they might react. (233)

Nothing about him was real. I yelled at him all that I thought: about his cowardice. His laziness. His lies. His greed. His manipulation. (235)

You’re a monster, I spat.

Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. (236)

You want to live without enemies, Heidl said, that’s your problem. You think if I am good and kind and don’t speak ill of others I won’t have enemies. But you will, you just don’t know it yet. They’re out there, your enemies, you just haven’t met them. You can seek them out or pretend they don’t exist but they’ll still find you. Trust me. You want to be like a dog everyone likes, but there’s not a dog alive someone doesn’t want to kick or kill. You want everyone to be your friend? Why? Why bother? (256)

I stole the sun, he said. Souls, I stole souls. I ate them whole and no one saw. I am eating the world. I am eating myself. (257)

I want grandeur, he said. To shit grandeur. (257)

All the rules, all the morals, all the mysteries, they didn’t apply. For a short time I flew above them, beyond them. I was the world and the world was me … (259)

Everything they pretended to hold dear, I trampled beneath me. (259)

The world will burn. And why? Because of me … (259)

There was nothing there. His whole life had been a lost search. (267)

He wasn’t evil. That was too grand an idea when his truth was much more mundane. He was just pathetic. (291)

-------

TM Note: The Writer’s Life Itself Later On. Kif becomes a television show writer, then a prominent producer, giving up his literary ambitions for the sake of money. He has become like the man he hated and now, looking back, writes (and in the second passage quotes an old childhood friend, Ray, who was the bodyguard of the con man):

--------

I’m not saying thought that what I did was a con. I am asking the question: what is not? (311)

At the time I wanted to succeed, and I had thought that life was about success. Later I came to a different point of view. Living is about being wrong, as Ray once said. But hopefully getting away with it. To live is to be defeated by ever greater things, and it may be that you learn from your defeats, but mostly you are defeated by what you learn. Perhaps the soul purpose of life, I came to think, is learning to understand the measure of your own particular failure. (311)

I rode out the good years, the golden decades, rode them hard, had fun, made money, and lost most everything else. (319)

You can do that, you know. Lose some fundamental part of yourself. and you cannot have it back. Ever. (319)

In my own humble way, retailing lies as reality, I see I have become just another con man. (320)

First Person: https://amzn.to/2MZosyG

Enjoy the Little Things. And, Surprise: It's All Little Things.

This morning, I was talking to my wife about a new connection on LinkedIn with a man who has long worked with Merrill Lynch. It led me to reflect on the unusual fact that, years ago, over a three year period, I had done 43 talks for that company, in the midst of what would be their Golden Age of iconic prosperity and reputation, under the guidance of then legendary Co-CEOs Dave Komansky and Dan Tully. I said to my wife, “It makes me remember the email I got from Tully’s Chief of Staff, when I had requested a testimonial from Tully for the back of my book If Aristotle Ran General Motors. He said that Dan got lots of requests for blurbs, and could agree only to a small few, but that he, the Chief of Staff, was the one who normally did the reading and blurbing, given how busy Tully was with the business of the company. But he wanted me to know that Tully was so impressed with what I do as a philosopher that he said he would read the book himself and write the testimonial, which ended up on the back cover of the hardback and the front cover of the paper edition. Here’s the part the publisher chose to excerpt and use:

“If Aristotle Ran General Motors goes to the heart of what makes people and organizations successful … Tom Morris’ message is a guide to the highest level of excellence in your company and your career.”

Daniel Tully, Chairman, Merrill Lynch

I told my wife the story as I shaved and then said, “That’s a little thing I’m really proud of, that Tully wanted to read the book and that he personally chose to write such a nice testimonial.” My wife said, “Well, that’s not such a little thing.” I replied, “But it’s the sort of thing that never gets onto a resume. It's a tiny little fact that almost no one knows but that means a lot to me.” I was thinking that it would never appear in an official bio or on a Wikipedia page, and yet it brought me great satisfaction. She said, “The little things that really matter are like: Do you enjoy letting someone in front of you in a line?” I said, “Yes, I do.” She said, "Good." And then I said, “But it’s also fine to enjoy stuff like the Tully thing.” And then I pondered it all some more.

It’s nice to be recognized as the Number One Salesman this year in your company. It’s something to be proud of and relish. But what makes it great is not the fact that you beat lots of other people, who are all now a bit disappointed, but rather the focal thing is all the hard work you put into the job to make possible the success you had. You feel great. But: Why should we ever celebrate or relish being the person who is keeping other people from having that feeling? It’s the little things you did persistently, and maybe relentlessly, that added up and that are worth enjoying and celebrating. The big result? Maybe there’s a way in which it’s an illusory, or true but misleading, side effect of all the stuff that really matters.

None of us needs to be King of the Hill. What we need is to discover our talents, develop those talents, and deploy them into the world for the good of others as well as ourselves. A certain level of income, or status, or a widespread public recognition may or may not come along with that. But even if it does, it’s never the core of what’s to be relished or celebrated. We get it backwards or upside down when we seek and fixate on the seemingly big things, which, after all are merely the cumulative effect of the little things, with a dash of luck or providence added in, factors that we never control and so can never take credit for. So maybe the big things are really in a sense little, and the little things are really big. And if so, then that wouldn’t be the first time that life shows us a deep paradox that’s the portal to great wisdom.

A little conversation produced a big insight which, in the grand scheme of things, as I put it out here for a few good people to read, is really just a little thing after all.

Doing Your Best

"Where a man does his best with only moderate powers, he will have the advantage over negligent superiority." - Jane Austen's Emma, in the eponymous novel.

The concept of negligent superiority brilliantly captures an all too common phenomenon to be seen among the lavishly gifted, talented, and connected. But as the twentieth century philosopher Wittgenstein once opined, to rest on one's laurels is as dangerous as falling asleep in the snow. Those frozen in their sense of superiority do not flow on to further success.

But modest endowments put to great use can accomplish much. In fact, it's the negligence of superiority that allows for many others with lesser gifts to prevail by doing their best. My wife's parents told her when she was young that the grades she brought home didn't matter nearly as much as the fact that she did her best. It's really both a reassuring and a daunting concept, but it does carry promises and hope. So, in all that you do, do your best.

Think Small. Aim Low. Set Modest Goals.

Think Small. Aim Low. Set Modest Goals.

Has any motivational speaker in history said those things? Probably not. And they constitute amazingly good advice.

At age 58 I had never done the famous exercise called Bench Press. I started small, at 85 pounds, because I saw a guy about my age or older doing it with that weight. Pretty soon I was lifting 100 pounds, then 120 and even 150. The day I hit 200 was amazing. When I first tried 240 I was over 60 and it felt like I had a truck on me. My workout partner was yelling “It’s moving! It’s going up!” I thought I was stuck. I was using a Smith Machine that has the bar in a slot and you don’t have to use any small muscles to balance the load. I eventually made it to benching 315 pounds. If you had asked me at any point along the way if that was my goal, I would have thought it absurd.

Now I do free weight bench, where I have to balance the bar. So I had to back up, a lot. I did days at 140, days going up to 190, and recently 200 and even 230. But today, I had my personal best on free weight bench of 250, at age 66. Again, I could never have set that as a goal. I started small. I aimed low, so as not to hurt myself. I set modest goals along the way.

What we easily forget is that thinking small, aiming low, and setting modest goals gets you in the game, in any dimension of life. As you acquire skill and strength you can then step it up. But if I had been told today that I could go to the gym only if I was willing to try 250, I could have stayed at home. Honest. By aiming only for a modest goal today I positioned myself for much more.

Consider the immense benefits of thinking small, and adjusting along the way.

A Blessing

I'm halfway through the editing of my next novel, The Mysterious Village, and just came across this passage that expresses wishes and blessings that I want for us all. In the midst of travel across the desert, and at a special Oasis, Walid is in the presence of a mysterious lady who seems to have special knowledge not available to most. He asks about the future. She's reassuring but elusive. And this happens.

She reached out her right hand and spread her fingers wide, pointing her palm toward Walid but not touching him or even coming close to him. She spoke several words in a language he didn’t know or understand, and in a strange tone, both softly and quickly, with her eyes closed. And then she opened her eyes wide and said, “May you and your friends be richly blessed as you move on deeply into the adventures that now await you. May a firm faith and a resilient hope be with you and in you at all times. May you persist with courage and prevail through any difficulties you’re called upon to face. And may you then be able somehow to share the story of your journey with future generations. Great blessings will go with you and be on you, enduring blessings to you and your friends and all who learn of you, my golden young man of the kingdom. We are blessed to have you with us for this short time, Prince Walid.”

For information on the series in which this will appear, early summer, go to www.TheOasisWithin.com.

The Novel, Little Women

I just read a wonderful book that I want to recommend to you all, one that I might never have tried, were it not for an upcoming Masterpiece Theater series scheduled to begin in May on PBS. And it has reconfirmed my view that some of the best reading business people can do is not to be found in business books.

In an age of dystopian novels, and stories about deeply damaged and disturbed people doing awful things, it's a breath of fresh air to read a book about good people growing to be even better. And that's exactly what I've been writing in my own recent Egyptian novels, swimming hard against the contemporary tide with all my might. For a long time, we've heard that it's much easier to write about evil than good. But I've not found that to be true, and I would suppose that neither did the author Louisa May Alcott, as she composed her glorious epic story, Little Women. I just read the beautiful Puffin edition designed by family friend Anna Bond, founder of the wonderful Rifle Paper Company.

In the world of business, we need to understand the people around us. What motivates them? What bothers them? What are their ambitions, and their secret sufferings? How can we best deal with the various personalities of our colleagues and clients? Sometimes, a good novel can provide perspectives on these issues like nothing else. I came away from Little Women refreshed, energized, inspired, and wiser than when I began to read it.

Do yourself a favor. Get yourself a copy and read the 777 pages of this book (No worries: Big Print) for its deep wisdom, homey ethos, and incredibly inspiring philosophy. Just click the link below, or visit your local library. Some of the best philosophers of the nineteenth century were women who wrote novels, not philosophical treatises, and taught us a lot more about life than their male counterparts of the era. You'll love this book.

Little Women: https://amzn.to/2qzIjuj

Zuckerberg and Frankenstein

Facebook. I think there's a parallel. Victor Frankenstein was a brilliant scientist and technologist of his era. He had an audacious goal and attained it, without ever thinking through the possible consequences of his work. He created a monster he couldn't control and walked away from giving the needed guidance and direction, allowing it to do damage, create havoc, and actually end people's lives. He woke up to his responsibilities too late, and finally pursued the monster in a fruitless effort to stop him.

It's almost like the Law of Unintended Consequences had come to life, and it was eight feet tall.

It sounds like a familiar scenario that may be playing out once again in our time, doesn't it? And close by, on social media. Dial "F" for Facebook, or Frankenstein.

Mary Shelley's prescient tale can be found here: https://amzn.to/2kg9okV

Ritz Crackers

I'm newly smitten with Ritz Crackers. It's as if, in a springtime long ago, a beautiful French croissant suddenly fell in love with a sturdy American saltine. It was a surprise, and certainly a forbidden liaison. And yet, a whirlwind courtship and marriage was then inevitable, followed by the arrival of boxes full of round little cherubic children named for the place of their conception, the famous Ritz Hotel in Paris, in the 1st arrondissement, overlooking the Place Vendôme at number 15. These delightful children now bring to us the best of their parents, in a magical mix perfectly made for our own new springtime snacks.

And now, I'll end the metaphor, so as not to seem like a character in a Greek Myth or Germanic fable when I begin to eat the children. I enjoy my round delights festooned with Sun Nut Butter and Bonne Maman orange marmalade, and paired with a hot dark roasted coffee. C'est bon!

I can't always just talk about philosophy here. I like to share whatever moves or enlightens me. But now, perhaps, I'll go read some Camus. C'est la vie.

Ode to Odie

One small cat, age 5, left this world on March 14, 2018, leaving it better than he found it, and my life greatly enriched.

An Ode for Odie.

If you want to know how good a cat

he was in this world: It would be my great honor and joy

to clean his litter box twice a day in eternity, forever.

*****

He prayeth best, who loveth best/ all things both great and small: for the dear God who loveth us,/ he made and loveth all. - Rime of the Ancient Mariner, Coleridge.

Good Work

The man here is mowing a very big field. And he's accomplishing it one step at a time. Nothing he's doing is newsworthy. No one is going to be on the sidelines cheering him on. And if he were to stand still and look around, gazing over the entire field, the size of the task he has might feel overwhelming. But he's not doing that. He's moving forward, bit by bit, and with persistence through time, the job will be done. And then, of course, it will soon need to be done again. And again. And again.

Very little in life is lasting. Most of what we face and accomplish is temporary. But there is great and lasting worth in the doing, when it's done well. And that's what we're called to focus on and be responsible for: doing what needs to be done, and doing it well. If we want the result to be beautiful in every way, though, I suspect we need to do whatever we do in love, from love, and for love. That's the great motivator and goal both. Whatever the field of endeavor, that's the ultimate secret and source of power for good work.

Thought and Action

I saw this photo on LinkedIn today, with an inscription wishing us all a brave new week. I loved it, and then began to think. I wrote a comment and now will expand a bit.

I love this picture for many reasons. For one, it shows the importance of paying attention to the gaps. Don't just look at what's there before you, put in place prior to your arrival, but also attend carefully to what's not there. Every plan and path forward has gaps. And you're much better off seeing them in advance rather than, unaware, stepping into them.

Second, this is an image that can give many people inner chills. And that's good. Even when you don't do extreme sports and outdoor challenges like the one depicted, you can metaphorically confront a version of the same sort of fear as you try anything new and daunting. All genuine adventures are surrounded by fog and fraught with danger and seem to promise a precipitous fall if things don't go just right. So, it's only the equally brave and careful who can reliably get to the other side. Thought and action together work best. And those with the vision to see the unseen most often gain the most of both.

A Christmas Reflection

Christmas is about new beginnings. It's about the miraculous entering the mundane and transforming it, while also revealing its genuine nature. It's about the true power that comes in real humility. The big in the small. The most remarkable in the least expected of places. A gift that unfolds over the years. It's about the tiny beginnings of forgiveness, redemption, and reconciliation. It speaks of the great high value of the sojourner, and the power the lowest of us have to both witness and help usher in a new era. It's a call to us all. And a reminder of the joy at the bottom and pinnacle of this cosmic adventure.

Merry, Joyous, Happy Christmas, Y'all.

Elf on the Shelf and the Specter of Cognitive Decline

So. Apparently it was me. I was the one at fault. Without any shred of mindful, occurrent awareness of what I was doing, I had closed the kitchen cabinet doors, shutting in and away from view, our very own Elf on the Shelf.

I had been instructed before bedtime that our small thin and red-garbed guest would be residing overnight in the kitchen cabinet amid such items as pepper, and pasta, and assorted baking goods. And I was to leave the cabinet doors wide open so that he and his faithful steed, the silent reindeer, could be suitably discovered in the morning by our granddaughter, who has successful espied the capricious imp in creative recline, lo these many December days for countless years past.

And, apparently, when I paused a viewing of A Place to Call Home (Australian TV through subscription service) to prepare a bowl of popcorn and festoon it with fresh ground black pepper alongside blistered southern North Carolina peanuts, I grabbed the pepper mill from right under the visiting lad's dangling feet and spiced the corn, and then performed the forbidden act of closing the cabinet doors on Elf, who then had to endure the entire night in the company of boxes of uncooked pasta and sundry spices. But of course, the true crime was the rendering of him as relatively undiscoverable in the morning's dash to school.

I tell this sad tale for a reason. When confronted with the evidence of my wrongdoing, the clearly closeted Elf, I had literally no memory of having performed the heinous deed of shutting him away. Zero visual recall. And of course, I assumed that either my wife was the unintentional culprit, or that our large black and white cat had, on the prowl, decided to close the cabinet doors, but then of course, so silently as to give no hint of his mischief. It could not have been me. It was epistemically impossible that I could have done such a thing without even the slightest trace of memory. I could have accepted the hypothesis of rambunctious poltergeist before admitting that I could have been the doer of the deed.

I tell you all this for a reason. Don't worry. I haven't forgotten my point, as I had my mistake. Anyone at my age, and especially with my profession, sensibly prefers never to entertain a possible implication of poor memory, indicative as it might be of any measure of cognitive decline. It couldn't have been me! I cast a suspicious glance at the border collie. They are known for their canny intellect and prodigious feats of physical surprise. But no. All signs pointed to the philosopher. It was truly alarming.

But then I remembered the phenomenon of "selective attention." A decade or more ago, a video was being passed around of some boys playing basketball on an outdoor court. Viewers of the short clip were then asked if they had seen anything unusual. And I, like most others, replied with some perplexity that I had not. It was then revealed that a man in a gorilla suit had walked slowly through the video frame behind the action of our focused attention. We could not have been more surprised. So, perhaps, in my intense focus on popcorn and pepper and peanuts, and getting back quickly to the show, I had astonishingly not noticed the Elf of whose presence I had been warned, sitting just above the pepper. I had fixed my snack and, out of habit, closed the cabinet —a habit to whose superiority any married man will gladly attest. So that was it, not a memory lapse due to age, harbinger that it might be of untoward things to come, but merely the trick of selective attention, a weakness that can accompany any of us, whatever our age. That was it!

But then, I had been told of the Elf's location and need for fresh air. That, I had clearly forgotten in my own late night kitchen raiding activities. And this element was not about selective attention. So I had to admit to myself, the most stringent of judges on matters of evidence and reasoning, that a common attendant of age had been responsible for my lapse. And at that exact moment, I suddenly also realized I'd been waking around the house all morning without remembering to zip up my pants. Oh, well.

But then, the Elf himself comforted me with tales of his boss, and the Jolly Old Elf's own forgetfulness, after all the centuries of lists and appraisals of childhood conduct, and changes of address. You yourself may have been victim to a "naughty or nice" mix-up at some point. Mrs. Claus could only roll her eyes. And yet, still, he somehow gets the job done. And so, shall, perhaps I, despite such momentary, and at the same time, monumental, reminders that as the years pass, so will some of our capacities of mental retention. But don't yet put me on the shelf, Ok?

Rumination

Our noun comes from a Latin verb meaning "to chew." In the life of the mind, rumination is chewing over some idea or problem thoroughly. And that can be a very good thing to do.

But as with nearly all good things, rumination is subject to the Double Power Principle. The power it has for good is matched by the power it has for ill. I recently read a short article about the downside that's manifested in the mental activity of going over and over and over something that's negative in your life—mulling it, stewing over it, pondering it, trying to figure it out, repeatedly sensing anew how wrong it is, and endlessly asking, "Why has this happened to me?" Here's the problem. When the situation is something you can't control or even act on productively, rumination can become a very unhealthy habit. A better approach is to act on what you can control and walk away from what you can't control. Sure, seek to understand it. But then: Drop it. Forget about it. Move along.

Sometimes, we break out of the chains of rumination best when we find other things to do, creative projects, fun activities, any alternative things to keep our minds busy. Rumination has its place. But out of place, it can turn into a destructive loop of obsessive thoughts. The good news is that our thoughts are ultimately up to us. It make take effort, but with enough work, we can keep ourselves on a healthier track.