Life is Art.

Life is art. We'd like to believe that life is science, that there are precise universal laws for everything and, if we can just memorize the laws, and act in perfect accordance with them, we'll know exactly the results we'll get. But we've been given a more interesting existence than that cosmic scenario would provide.

We're all living with uncertainty, always encountering the unknown. We have great advice from those who have travelled this path before us, but it won't guarantee us the results we want. It will just position us for better results. It's all an art, not a science. We can still falter and fail. But that's Ok. Everyone does. That's why life takes courage, resilience, and skill.

If you're far enough along in the great scheme of things to be reading a blog like this, then you know what I'm talking about. We'd all feel relieved if life and love could be accomplishments like chemistry: mix the right things together under the right conditions, and you always get the right results. But what we've been given is vastly more interesting and exciting than that. We've been given the chance for real risk and true adventure. We still need each other's advice. But we can't give or receive guarantees. Yet, that's Ok. We're all in it together.

So seek advice. Give advice. Cultivate your skills and your art. Help others to do likewise. That way, you play to win, and to help others to win. And that's exactly what we're here to do. If this is our attitude, then any loss can just be a step in the direction of a win, and of a worthy work of art.

Self Reflective Consciousness

Self Reflective Consciousness is the distinctive type of awareness that carries within itself the ability to consider and think about ourselves. It's the mind's inner mirror that reflects to us what we're doing and thinking, and lets us ponder that. It provides the capacity for self appraisal, self judgment, self correction, and self guidance.

It's our great glory, and our big problem. It allows us to consider, choose, adapt, and transform our lives. It also lets us critique, doubt, second-guess, and worry about our lives. It's the chief engine of  what we know as personal excellence. And it's the chief obstacle to that same exalted state. We need to make the most of it, and equally, to rise above it.

Fortunately, the phenomenon of self reflective consciousness can itself help us to get into a position to leave it behind, as we enter "The Zone" or "Flow" or the "Deep Play" of creative work, athletic mastery, musical reverie, or even a great relationship, at its best.

Is it then a ladder to be climbed and eventually kicked away? Or is it a lifeline that we need always with us, at least in the background, despite our equal need to transcend it?

The top performers in any art, science, or work, in their greatest moments, as they report later to us, rose above it, kicked it aside, and shed its limitations as they soared to their highest achievements. They became self forgetful in order to reach the pinnacle of self fulfillment.

This reflective state of consciousness, this inner mirror and critic, is a blessing when it helps us to find our way, and a curse when it just gets in our way. We need to grow better at using this capacity so well that it will help us to soar far beyond its limiting and commenting chatter. 

Then, we enter the realm where we can fly.

Anybody For a Signed Ebook? A What?

When I was a kid, a famous circus came to town. My mother arranged for me to meet The Human Cannonball. He was pretty impressive. And I happened to have in my hand a toy Arabic sword, the old-fashioned kind with a wide, curved blade, four inches across and made of smooth flat white plastic. The equally flat handle was a snazzy red. The Cannonball shook hands with me and then offered to sign my sword. Wait. What? I could actually get his autograph? Cool! To a small town boy like me, he was like a god among men. This was going to be my first celebrity autograph, ever! I handed him my weapon and he pulled out a pen with some sort of wide black ink flow and scrawled his name big across the pristine blade and gave it back to me. Wow. I was thrilled.

Until I got home and realized that the sword would look better with the autograph on the handle, not the blade. So, I went back into my room, got out a variety of erasers and soap and some washcloths, and went to work on the signature, completely removing it from the blade. I then meticulously redid what he had written, but now, in a much smaller size, onto the handle, tracing carefully the sort of flamboyant cursive script he had used. I was so excited when I ran into the kitchen to show my mom how I had moved the man's autograph to a better position!

I clearly didn't grasp fully enough the concept of an autograph. And, now I realize that, maybe, I still don't. My mother explained that the only autograph was when the man's own hand held the pen that put the ink onto the surface being signed. When I erased that ink, I had destroyed the autograph. It was gone. I then had just written his name on the handle, exactly as I could have done had I never met him at all. Oh. My shock at this realization was visceral. So, to be a real autograph, the guy (or lady) has to hold the pen (or pencil, or paint brush - I got the extension of the pen idea, just fine - I thought) and actually use it to touch the object being signed. That's what makes for an autograph!

Or, perhaps not.

Have you ever heard of a signed ebook? It's being done. When ebooks first came out, I wondered what would happen to the time honored custom of author autographs. Of course, we all had dancing in our heads visions of iPads and Kindles and Nooks whose backs would be absolutely covered with tiny little author signings, presumably in permanent, indelible ink, as the closest possibility. Nope. Wrong again.

One of the most innovative companies now publishing and selling ebooks, ZolaBooks.com, is currently making signed ebooks available, and I can tell you that it's no mass produced, fake signature thing. They recently sent me an iPad loaded with new tech and apps designed especially for this, so that I could help them test personalized author signatures for ebooks.

Zola is an innovative publisher, seller, and community of readers that's pioneering some new dimensions for the experience of literature in our new tech world. They approached me a while back and asked me to join an amazing group of, otherwise, highly respected authors to offer them exclusive ebook rights on a few of my own titles. So I gave them the rights to True Success, If Aristotle Ran General Motors, and the most incredible long term project I've ever done, a look through the ages at what the deepest thinkers have said about life success, a book called The 7 Cs of Success, which is available only in ebook, at this stage, and only at Zola.

A few days ago, I wrote about the recent climb of El Capitain, and how Tommy Caldwell and Kevin Jorgeson acted in accordance with seven universal conditions for success in pursuing their astonishing achievement. I listed this framework of ideas that I refer to as The 7 Cs of Success. And lots of people have asked me where they can read more about them.

I first discussed The 7 Cs at depth in the book True Success, and then took a different look at them in the follow-up study, The Art of Achievement. But the most comprehensive examination of them ever is in the exclusive ebook The 7 Cs of Success. In it, I start with Lao Tsu, in the Tao Te Ching, and Confucius, in the Analects, and work my way forward through the history of deep and practical philosophy on how we can best make our lives matter and attain our greatest dreams. There is no real science of success that works like chemistry or botany, despite what many people say, but there is a powerful art of achievement. And it's this art that many of the great practical philosophers have outlined throughout human history.

In The 7 Cs of Success, I explore the deepest and most useful thoughts of the two great Chinese sages; plus the insights of the classic statesman of Rome, Cicero; a Muslim Mystic, Hadrat Ali; a Spanish Jesuit, Balthasar Gracian; the quintessential American philosopher, Ralph Waldo Emerson; and a contemporary Japanese billionaire - go find out who he is. What's wild is how much such different thinkers have in common. And yet, their distinctive nuances can help us to realize exactly what we need to be doing right now to craft the comprehensive success and the satisfying future we want.

I'm writing about them today because Zola has given me an opportunity to be one of the first authors in the country who can personally sign ebooks, one at a time, in the new tech version of the old fashioned mode. They've developed a way to do this, and are having me prototype it for them and try it out. So if any of you guys want to explore The 7 Cs of Success in the book by the same name, or in True Success, or if you want to see the different but complementary framework of ideas in If Aristotle Ran General Motors, Zola is offering signed versions of those books right now, in order to make it possible for me to use an iPad and my index finger (unless you request, for example, a thumb) and do a personal signature on the book, or books, for you.

Any of you who have been reading my blog posts for a while will know that I don't really do the self-promotional "Buy my book" stuff you so often see online. But this is a crazy opportunity for me to learn how to sign books using cutting edge technology and for you to get a signed book available nowhere else. So if you'd like to try this, go to www.Zolabooks.com/tom-morris and click whatever you prefer. The drop down right above the price will get you a signed copy.

So, go experience this now, if you'd like, by using the links above or clicking

Sign Me an Ebook!

And let me know what you think! But please don't figure out how to move the signature you get to another place in your ebook book. I still can't guarantee that would count as an autograph. Best Wishes. Tom

Churchill on Art and Life

Sir Winston Churchill discovered the joy of painting when he was forty years old. It was to be one of the most rewarding activities of his life. I just read, for the second or third time, his little book Painting as a Pastime. It's full of great advice about mastering new activities that can enhance our lives immeasurably.

At one point, Sir Winston is talking about learning the art that was his favorite, and he says something profoundly applicable to progress in any great endeavor, in anything worth learning, where great delight can reward great difficulty. Let me quote.

Every day you may make progress. Every step may be fruitful. Yet there will stretch out before you an ever-lengthening, ever-ascending, ever-improving path. You know you will never get to the end of the journey. But this, so far from discouraging, only adds to the joy and glory of the climb.

What a wonderful statement! The adventures that we're on should extend out into the horizon, without any end in sight. There's always scope for new discovery and mastery, and indeed, new delight. We each need something in our lives that promises never ending challenge and enjoyment.

And it's never too late to find your art. Until, of course, it is. Therefore, start!

A Better Model For Decisions

How we think about choices can help us or hinder us in making them. I suspect that most of us carry around, in the backs of our minds, an inappropriate model for decision making that actually gets in our way and trips us up.

Many of us approach decisions as we would a True-False Test - there's a right answer and a wrong one. Take the new job, or stay in the old job. Move across the country, or remain where we are. True, or False. The difference is that we haven't previously learned in any sort of class which is which, and so we're in the old dreaded situation of guessing.

Sometimes, the Multiple Choice exam question might seem to be a more accurate rendering of how we think: There are many options for how I could approach my work or my life right now, and only one of them is best. Depending on the circumstances and the options, this can seem to capture a decision situation better than the True-False. But normally, it still puts on us a pressure that's totally unnecessary.

Philosopher Ruth Chang has an interesting Op Ed in the New York Times relevant to this. She says we often approach life decisions as a maximizing gain, minimizing loss scenario, and assume that if we could just get at the right facts out there in the world, the decision would be made for us. And she suggests that this isn't so. She counsels instead that when the options are at least "on a par" - there's no obvious best path forward, and we could live with either - we ought to ask what we could best commit ourselves to. It isn't a matter of guessing, but of commitment.

My suggestion is this. Decision making is less like an exam and more like an art. Every choice we make is a stroke on the canvas, a chip in the marble, a move in the dance. It's not necessarily a matter of True-False, or of picking The One Right Answer. It's a matter of "What's the next move we can feel really good about making?" And that aligns with Ruth Chang's consideration of commitment. What do you want? What can you commit to best?

When you think like that, you don't worry so much about "getting it wrong" and making a big mistake. Your thinking is more positive than protective, more about wants than about wariness. And that can liberate you to be the artist that you, deep down, are capable of being.

Beginner's Mind, Master's Mind

"A good surfer is happy to get a good ride. A great surfer creates a great ride." - Don Sharp

My workout partner Don and I were sitting around today after the time of physical exercise, and we ended up talking about surfing, tennis, basketball, woodcarving, and what it takes to get into The Zone in any activity.

When you first learn a new sport, or any new activity, your head is full of the rules, and the techniques and tips you've learned. They guide you into the new performance. But, as long as they're consciously in your head, they also inhibit your performance. You focus on them, and on whatever they direct you to notice and do. That process can get you from the level of beginner to a higher plane. But it can't take you all the way to mastery.

The master is no longer rehearsing and consulting rules and tips. He or she is picking up details in a mostly unconscious way, and adapting, adjusting, and using those details to create something new. A surfer who is advanced can let go of the self conscious mental chatter that the beginner needs. He or she becomes one with the wave and with the ride.

Don tells me that after a great couple of hours in the surf, he sometimes has trouble remembering the details. It's almost as if all the conscious processes of noticing and remembering were turned off. Thinking gives way to being. The unconscious takes over. And then, great things happen.

How do you get to this point? Practice. Experience. Immersion. Doing. And then, eventually, you'll enter the promised land of being.

May you have the great blessing to do something where you can just be.

Redefining Luxury

We need to redefine luxury in our time. It's not about price. It's about quality.

In a world of mediocre stuff, made too often by people who really don't care, and of services that are offered, and barely, on automatic pilot, real quality produced by passionate people has become a rarity. I think it's become a luxury. The chairman of the philosophy department at Notre Dame, long ago, who went on to be the Dean of Arts and Letters at NYU, once told me about a friend of his who said, "I'll never be able to afford the best car in the world, but I can afford the best fountain pen." He wanted an experience of rare, top quality. And he got it.

I've had a couple of nice long rides in a new Rolls Royce. Ok, I get it. It was nice. But I like my Audi A8L just as much. It's eight years old and still surrounds me in luxury. It looks like, and performs like, it was made by people who care. Plus, my local Audi dealership, Audi Cape Fear, really cares. Their top notch service is a luxury. Thanks to AJ. Aliah, the owner, who shows everyone there how to care, and insists on the highest customer service, which is a true luxury in our time.

I've written here before, a couple of times, about Peter and Aletta Stas, founders of the Swiss watch maker Frederique Constant. Go look at their amazing creations. They've been a great example to me. Their motto is "accessible luxury." People often think of that as a paradox. Isn't luxury inherently inaccessible, because of price? When you define luxury in terms of exorbitant cost, of course it is. But that's an inappropriate definition. Our English word 'luxury' comes from Latin roots, and a word that long ago meant, in its time, excess, extravagance, profusion, or delicacy. In old French, it developed connotations of the sensual. But it never meant the unaffordable or inaccessible. A luxury item was one that went beyond the norm. It was somehow an extravagance, even a delicacy, involving an excess of attention and care and quality, beyond the norm. And that's still what it should mean, today. A luxury doesn't have to be available only to multi-millionaires, or billionaires.

We can extend to other people small luxuries all the time, if we really care, and want to go beyond the norm. Even larger luxuries can be provided, without a exorbitant cost.

In a season of gift giving, consider the ultimate luxury: A gift of your time and attention and care, delicately and extravagantly delivered with an exquisite consideration for the needs, wants, and concerns of the recipient. That, like a meticulously crafted and beautiful Frederique Constant watch, is an accessible luxury of great value.

Wild Advice

In last Sunday's New York Times, the authors of the books Wild and Gone Girl were interviewed together. In the course of the conversations, Cheryl Strayed, author of "Wild" said:

The story I wrote has an ancient tradition in literature, man against nature, the hero’s journey. I was conscious of the narratives that I was both taking part in and also countering because the variation on the theme is: It was a woman, and it wasn’t “versus.” I say the wild felt like home to me. It wasn’t me trying to conquer it; it was me living in it. So much about “Wild” is about acceptance and surrender and vulnerability. To me that’s the greatest strength, not this conquering kind of narrative that we have embedded in our bones.

That got me to thinking. How much of personal growth and achievement advice is about conquering? A lot, actually. In America, especially, where the self help literature really got going, back in the last century and before that, we're all about action, fighting for what's right, changing what we don't like, conquering the next foe, battling the obstacle we'll face on our way to our goal. But it could well be that "acceptance, surrender, and vulnerability" are much more important in any heroic quest than we normally suppose. And we forget that to our detriment.

There's a famous woodcarver who has said that average carvers often fight the wood, and try to force it into what they have in mind; whereas master carvers "listen to the grain" they're working with, and truly partner with the wood for the greatest results. Could it be that every situation has its grain, and that we need to accept that fact, surrender to it, to some extent, and be vulnerable to learn and change and adapt? Could it be that this is as important to any heroic quest as the determination and will to fight and struggle? 

Cheryl Strayed offers us some wild advice that's well worth pondering.

To see her book, click here.

Making Our Mark On the World

Hi everyone! Blogging this morning from the beautiful Wilmington, NC airport, preparing to board. I wanted to tell you about something interesting that came to light in the past few days.

The journal Nature reported this week that paintings of hands and animals in seven limestone caves on the Indonesian island of Sulawesi may be the oldest human art yet discovered. It's estimated that the people who did these simple paintings put their mark on the stone walls more than 39,000 years ago.

Since the beginning, human beings have wanted to make their mark in the world, to say "I was here!" I love it that so many of the paintings were outlines of hands. "This is me." Or, "This is my son." Or, This is my mate."

Those artists could have had no idea that we'd be talking about the hands and the animals they painted, more than 39,000 years after they made those simple, but inspired markings.

Likewise, we have no idea how far and wide our simple daily acts may reach and what impact they may have on others. The cave painters could never have predicted that their work would move us in 2014 to reflect on our own lives, and on how we make our own marks on the world.

And their lessons are many. One is that the smallest things can leap and fly across space and time with amazing results. Try to remember that in the little things you do.

Today.

A Philosopher Takes A Microphone

This is a true story in every detail. Last night, I dreamed that I was at a comedy club, sitting somewhere up front. And, before I knew it, I was in front of the crowd and I was telling jokes, extemporaneously. I suddenly woke up from sleep in the middle of it all, but the dream somehow still continued in my head. I looked at a watch on the bedside table. It was 6 AM. I thought about getting up to write down what I was seeing and hearing, but the jokes weren’t that good. So I stayed in bed and watched myself do the rest of the unplanned act. Then I got up and ate breakfast, as many professional comedians do after a late show, perused the New York Times, and decided I should write down my mid-late-summer-night’s dream.

It was open mike night at the comedy club, and the first three people up had been pretty good. Then there was a long lull. At some point, I got up from my chair to go to the men’s room, but as I crossed over the front of the club, the proprietor got the wrong idea and shoved a microphone at me, and then a spotlight swiveled in my direction. I was completely taken by surprise. And what I said came over the sound system loud and clear.

No, no, no, I’m a professional philosopher. [Laughter] Don’t laugh, it’s true [Chuckles] – or maybe, do laugh, in honor of our context, but not at me, of course, or my choice of work, if you can call it that. [Scattered chortles]

No, I’m serious. I actually hold three degrees in philosophy, and they cost so much, I refuse to put them down. Well, technically, I earned only two degrees, but when my time at the university ended and I had to explain to my mother that I had chosen to study philosophy, she gave me the third degree – questioning of which Socrates would have been proud, and nearly up to the standards of what the CIA calls “enhanced interrogation.”

Once she had pronounced the word ‘philosophy’ properly and enunciated it a second time, she said, with a look of sheer disbelief, “Who’s ever going to pay you to know about philosophy?” And, like with every other philosophy question, I found myself … not at all sure of the answer.

But I imagine that Aristotle’s mother worried, too. She probably had something more practical in mind for him, like real estate. But he stuck with philosophy, and did pretty well. He invented logic. Not that anyone wants to use it, but still, it was a big deal. His mother probably ended up quite proud, but I’m sure she had her days.

And then, I bet the mother of Aristotle’s most famous student also worried the day that the inventor of logic showed up to teach her son, Alexander the Great. First, can you imagine going through life with a name like that? “Hi. I’m Alexander the Great.” The other kids must have teased him mercilessly. “Hey, if you’re so great, how come I’m the one holding your lunch money?” There were a lot of bullies and stolen drachmas along the way. No wonder he ended up wanting to conquer and dominate. And, with his immersion in philosophy, he did pretty well for himself – ironically, in real estate, where his holdings were once described as “the known world.” Not bad at all.

But my mother was worried. And it’s probably no coincidence that I also ended up with a license in real estate. I’m not kidding. And that made my mother proud. I mean, she was also proud of her son the doctor, even though it was a PhD. She had always thought MD, Medical Doctor, or JD, Juris Doctor, not PhD, Phoney Doctor.

The day I officially became a Doctor of Philosophy, I remember well, I was in a small store an hour later, not far from the Yale Campus (notice how I slipped that in – we philosophers are always polishing our resumes for any job that might be out there), and I signed the credit card slip with my usual, big, sloppy signature. The young clerk looked at it and then at me and said, “Are you a doctor?”

I said, “Well, yes,” and before I could give him the sort of long and detailed explanation that we philosophers always like to provide for nearly anything, he showed me a rash on his arm and said, “I’ve got this skin irritation and it’s really bad. What should I do?” Well, I didn’t know how to react to that except to say, “It looks like contact dermatitis. Soak it in warm salt water, which is called ‘Dakin’s Solution,’ and do this three times a day, and in a week or two it should be gone.”

The guy said, “Wow, thanks.” Then, as I turned to leave with my merchandise, he asked, “What kind of doctor are you?”

I said, “Epistemologist,” and got out of there as quickly as I could.

That’s a completely true story. But I digress. I’m a real doctor, of philosophy, and the author of 20 published books. I should clarify that this is the number that have actually been printed and sold. It’s a shame. They said that the new technology for publishing was such a great thing – it’s called “Print on Demand.” I should have realized that, for most philosophy books, there’s a problem with that approach. There’s actually no demand. I mean, in a world of shrinking Kierkegaardians and expanding Kardashians, the profundity market has gotten pretty small. I’ve even heard that they’re about to shut off the lights at most major philosophy departments. But that shouldn’t be a problem. Philosophers have been groping in the dark for centuries.

Are there any philosophy majors here tonight? Raise your hand. Come on. Let’s see a show of hands, please. Ok. One guy, raising his hand with great hesitation and a look on his face that says he’s not really sure about doing this. But, hey, a philosophy major ends up being not very sure about anything. And, this is a comedy club, so I can quote on this point another philosophy major and comedian, the great Steve Martin, who once said that, no matter what your major is in college, two years later you forget it all. Except for one choice. If you major in philosophy, you’ll remember just enough to mess you up for the rest of your life. Am I right? Our philosophy major is nodding agreement – a historic moment, the first time in all of human history that two philosophers have agreed on anything, and it happened right here, right now. And if we include Steve, it’s actually three of us. We should call the newspaper. Or, at least, so it seems to me. I can’t, of course, be sure.

You know, there aren’t that many philosophy majors at all these days, as you might imagine. And it’s a bit strange that there are any who do it successfully. I mean, if you think that majoring in philosophy would be a smart career move for you, then, maybe, you’re not quite bright enough to be studying it in the first place. It’s a real dilemma.

But I did it, and I continue to practice it for a living, I mean philosophy, spending my days doing what professional philosophers do – thinking, pondering, reasoning. Our friends and families should have a support group like ALANON: maybe call it PHILANON. “He’s just sitting around the house thinking all the time. I can’t take it any more.” – “I know what you mean. My husband objects to everything I say and to half the things that he says himself. It’s driving me crazy!” Therapy could help – or at least group empathy and commiseration.

But, as I said earlier, I do also write books. And, the last time I was here at this club, some years ago, I hate to say, I brought one of them with me. And I remember well what happened. I put it down on a table and turned away for a few seconds and some guy nabbed it and took off. Yeah, really! A purloined philosophy book!

But a block away from the club, a cop saw him looking suspicious and grabbed him and saw what he had taken, and realized that all he could accuse him of, in the situation, was: clearly not understanding the concept of theft. He explained to the guy that theft involves wrongfully taking something of value, and that what he had done was disqualified on numerous grounds. First, a book of academic philosophy has no clear practical value. Second, it’s not obvious that you can wrongfully take such a book from anyone. You’re actually doing them a favor. You’re saving them the agony of reading all the incomprehensible sentences and serpentine arguments to be found therein, not to mention all the words like ‘therein’. It’s not a criminal act, but an altruistic one, almost like falling on a live grenade to save another person, or grabbing a poisonous snake away from a toddler.

But then, the guy made it worse for himself when he said, “I took it because I liked the cover.” It did have a very pretty cover. But the cop knew that judging a book by its cover was one of the cardinal fallacies in philosophy. And so, he reasoned that, ironically, maybe the guy really needed to read such a book of philosophy after all.

Beyond that, the cop saw right away that what the guy had stolen was … a book on ethics – yeah, ethics. And, of course, that’s exactly the sort of guy who should have such a book in his possession, who actually needs the book. In a sense, you could say, it’s rightfully his. I mean, who better to have and read a book on ethics than a guy who stole it? It’s a larceny that somehow reaches the level of serendipity.

And I’m pleased to report that the whole situation worked out well in the end. The guy avoided jail time. And he actually read the book. So I do have at least one reader out there. Amazing. And it gets even better. My reader turned his life around, got an education, and double majored in business ethics and criminal law, two specialties that nowadays seem to be exceptionally well suited for each other.

But, well, hey. That’s enough from me.  You’ve been a great audience. And I was just on my way to the men’s room. So, as they say, I gotta go. Thanks!

Making The Wonderful Accessible

I've blogged a couple of times about one of my favorite companies, Frederique Constant, a remarkable maker of fine watches in Geneva, Switzerland. Their distinctiveness is what they call "Accessible Luxury" and their slogan is "Live Your Passion." In discovering more about their history and brand, I came to realize that their distinctive approach to watches parallels my own approach to wisdom. Since I left a great university position nearly twenty years ago to spread ancient wisdom across the culture and globe, I've actually been focused on what you could call "Accessible Wisdom" - not wisdom that you need a PhD to understand, or years of study in distinguished libraries to acquire, but deep and practical insight of the highest order that applies to the challenges of everyday life, and answers the questions that we all inevitably ask.

Peter and Aletta Stas, the founders of Frederique Constant, were lovers of fine watches in their early years together, and wanted to find a way to put such a luxury within the reach of more people. They understood that luxury is not at its core about inaccessibility, or elitist cost, but rather that it essentially embodies such qualities as great beauty, excellence, high functionality, comfort, and ease. With the right focus and tremendous ingenuity, they've been able to live their passion and realize their dream of including more people within the realm of high end luxury, making it more widely accessible. And they're having resounding success around the world, as a result.

Wisdom, also, is not about inaccessibility. The truth is that you don't have to be a legendary guru, or a top scholar, in order to attain and benefit from the greatest insights available for living in this world. But too often, the deepest wisdom has been treated as exactly that - as if you have to be first inaugurated into an esoteric cult, or initiated into a gnostic order of insiders who study rare documents in arcane languages, or you have to learn to speak a technical jargon far beyond the comprehension of those who have not been trained in its use, or else, unfortunately, the best of human insight can't be yours. And that, I've been determined to show for the past twenty years, is just not true.

It has indeed taken me years of formal training and decades of dedicated work, like a top Swiss watchmaker, to be able to separate truth from falsehood, and insight from illusion, in matters of human life and aspiration, where the differences can sometimes be subtle but crucial. What are our greatest insights? How can they best be applied? How do we separate mere appearance from reality? Part of the reason I'm so impressed with Frederique Constant is that they're doing for watches what I've long sought to do for wisdom. And their passion has helped me to clarify mine. On the basis of all my own hard work and study, refining my sensibilities and logical acumen to the highest degree, I'm now able to offer people accessible wisdom that they can use and enjoy, and that can enhance their lives, as it does mine, every day. 

The more we can make accessible to others what we've perhaps worked so hard to achieve ourselves, the more we make our distinctive mark on the world, and we can seek to serve from the riches and blessings of our own lives, bringing these riches and blessings to others.

What are you really good at? What can you make more accessible to others? How can you do and share with passion? These are questions always worth asking. 

Ask them today.

What is Bling?

Is bling a crude, tawdry exhibition, an aggressive socio-economic and cultural statement, or merely a simple and joyous celebration? Is it ironic? Or aspirational? Is it innocent? Or hostile? Is it playful? Or serious? Immature? Or artistic? Obnoxious? Or Fun?

Is it spiking the ball in the end zone, or could it be singing because you're happy?

How, exactly, is it related to glamour? Where is it situated within the realm of the aesthetic?

Is it a neighborhood within the province of luxury? Or is it on another part of the map?

Is it inherently visual, or could even the blind enjoy some bling?

I've blogged recently about the broad concept of luxury, a couple of times. And it suddenly occurred to me that I should ponder the contemporary phenomenon of bling.

Why not?

So I began today's post with the philosophical question, or set of questions. What exactly is it? Is there one answer? And here's a follow up question: Is it bad, or is it good?

And if it's bad, then how bad? But if, by contrast, it's good - how good?

Can it be either? And if so, depending on what?

What do you think?

And if you're the rare individual who has to go to Bing and type in Bling, then maybe this is just not ... your Thing.

In case you'd like more than questions today, maybe I should venture my own answers to what's already been asked. I'd say, "Yes" to almost all the queries that allow for such an answer, however apparently opposite, and to the options within the questions, and simply explain that it all depends on the individual, the intention, and the context. But then again, that's true of lots more, as well.

This is an interpretive guide to many expressions, actions, and displays: Consider, if you can, the individual, the intention, and the context. That's usually all it takes. The intention is always the toughest to know, and sometimes, even in your own case.

What's your bling? How would you define it for yourself?

My bling is a bright yellow watch on a matching yellow band that I wear to the gym most days. When people say, and it happens often, "Whoa! I like that watch!" I enjoy responding, "Thanks! Four dollars and ninety five cents," and relish seeing the reaction.

It's just my own little transmuted bling with a bang.

What Story Do You Tell?

One of the most important things about us is the story we tell ourselves, the overarching narrative within which we embed our daily actions. What story are you telling yourself? Is it helping or hurting you?

We love movies, and great television shows, and amazing novels so much because we each live a story, our own story, and these are media where stories are told. We viscerally understand other people's stories because of our own. That's why nothing touches us like a story.

Hollywood producer Peter Gruber wrote a book a few years back called Tell to Win. In it, he recounts that every business meeting he ever went into armed with facts and statistics was a failure, and he never got what he wanted, while, by stark contrast, every meeting he went into and told a great story was a stunning success, sometimes far beyond what he could have imagined. Stories have power.

The story we tell ourselves about our own lives has great power for good, or for ill. Do you empower and embolden and encourage yourself by the story you tell yourself in the quiet of your own mind, as well as in your words to other people? Or do you weaken your own prospects by a narrative that isn't right? Have you let other people or circumstances hijack your story? No one can know you as well as you can, if you're completely honest with yourself and relentlessly strip away the little self-deceptions that can so easily creep into any life. No one else is in a position to write your story for you - not in this world. So, make sure that you're the one who tells your story, and tells it powerfully, to open up the vast possibilities of the future that lie in wait for your particular talents, experiences, and sensibilities.

There is no other you. And there is no other story exactly like yours. Be sure that your story is worthy of you, at your best and your finest. Then, you can become what you're meant to be.

When a Sip of Wine is Much More.

Oh! The unexpected depths! The intense aromas! The rich bottomless structure, and yet ethereal smoothness! The mouth feel! The surprise of its all-enveloping engagement of the senses! And: The perfect match for a small burger. Or two.

I opened a bottle of wine this past weekend that practically jumped out of the glass. Or maybe what happened is that it almost pulled me into the glass. We had a mystical experience together, in any case, the two of us - and that's for sure.

I was just cooking hamburgers and wanted something good to go with them. I had no idea.

I really didn't know anything about the Schrader 2006 Beckstoffer To Kalon Vinyard pictured above, except that I'd had it squirreled away for a long time, and basically forgotten about it, but when I happened to come across it, I sort of vaguely remembered having really enjoyed another of their bottles years ago. So I picked it up, carried it into the kitchen, and popped it while the bacon was still sizzling in the old black, cast iron skillet, prepping the surface for the burgers.

Oh, man.

Have you ever had a well-made Napa Cab that you almost didn't have to drink? The nose enough was sufficient to engage you down to your soul, not to mention your toes? You just breathe deeply and say, "Oh, My! Oh Gee!" Or some more colorful linguistic equivalent thereof. And then you go running across the room or down the hall to share it:

"Hey! Take a Whiff of This! Can you believe it? Yeah! Take a Taste! Go ahead!"

And then you delight in the look of ecstasy on the face of your spouse, friend, neighbor, or whomever you handed the glass to.

Down the rabbit hole, through the looking glass, behind the wardrobe and into Narnia. Mr. Tumnus! You make an incredible cab!

Quality counts. Passion, care, and world-class expertise pay off.

When something stands apart in an immensely crowded field, you take notice. It evokes a rare sort of respect, and genuine admiration.

Whenever I come across anything of such excellence, it makes me redouble my own commitment to quality. It reminds me of the difference that makes. And it makes me grateful once more to share the planet with some other people who care about what they do.

I can be inspired by almost anything that displays excellence of the highest caliber. In fact, I was inspired by the first moment of aromas wafting forth from the glass. Not even the bacon in the pan could mask the magic that leapt up to my nose and reeled me in like a fish on a line.

Inspiration.

What, recently, has inspired you?

For those who are reading this here at my website, rather than on LinkedIn, I have an extra word or two. This Schrader was like a recent Futo and my first really great cab, a 2001 Shaeffer Hillside Select. Also in this category are a Colgin I had a while back, and a few Herb Lamb Cabs. Tell me what you like! In Vino, Veritas.

Best Book of the Year

The best book I’ve read this year was a total surprise. I hadn’t seen the author’s two previous books, although the first one got a lot of attention. And it was only noticing the “Pulitzer Prize” sticker on the front cover of this one at my local Barnes and Noble that got my attention. I was intrigued. There was a picture of a bird. And it was a big book, nearly 800 pages. The thought ran through my head, “Ain’t nobody got time for that.”

But some strong instinct, some irresistible intuitive urge, made me buy it. It was almost like I had no choice. And it may actually be the best, most completely involving novel I’ve read in at least five or ten years.

The Goldfinch, by Mississippi-born Donna Tartt, is named for a famous painting, done in 1654, but the book takes place in something like present-day New York, mainly, but also in Las Vegas and Amsterdam. It follows the adventures of a precocious but academically uninterested thirteen-year-old boy through a suddenly traumatic period and then into the subsequent years of his life, up to his late twenties.

The book is, first of all, a real page-turner. And, at its core, it’s an extended reflection on the power of our actions and inactions in a sometimes-crazy world. The main character, Theo Decker, does something, early on, you could say, instinctively, that has implications he doesn’t at the time fully grasp, and as he begins to understand the potentially damaging consequences, he hesitates making the choices that alone could undo, or at least mitigate, those very big problems. In the initial instance, it was almost like he had no choice but to do what he did. And yet, when opportunities later develop to possibly reverse the course of things, his failure to take the obvious action and do what we wish he would do, seems on one level mysterious, and yet on another level understandable, in context, at each juncture.

Further circumstances beyond his control intervene, and we see him hide from the realities he faces by indulging in various forms of self-soothing and self-medicating behaviors, mostly involving more drugs than you would ever imagine, all throughout his teens, and then into his twenties, rather than grappling as he should with the things that confront him.

But this sketchy, high-level abstract of the tale can’t possibly convey the nature of the richly realized story, the fully imagined settings in which Theo’s problems grow, or the fascinating characters who come into his life along the way. I don’t think I’ve ever been so involved with the characters in a story, since my very different experience of Harry Potter and his friends.

Then, within the last hundred pages or so of the book, we get major philosophical payoffs from the story. And some of these reflections are almost worthy of Blaise Pascal in their vividness. Beauty, truth, meaning, chance, depth, choice, consequences, and surprise: It’s all there. And the ultimate results of Theo’s actions are so strikingly different from what we have come to expect that musing on them will keep you philosophizing for quite a time to come.

I just finished writing a series of novels – eight, as a matter of fact – totally well over two thousand pages. Entering that fictional world has involved the most intellectual excitement and fun I’ve ever had. And, if you might still be looking for some great summer reading, I’d love to be able to recommend these to you. But they exist only inside my computer. I haven’t even shown them to a publisher yet. So, shhhhh.

That, however, leaves me free to urge you to get your hands on The Goldfinch as soon as possible. I think you’ll be amazed.

But don't read any reviews. They give away far too much. Experience it all as you should!

The Necessity of Luxury

I have a suggestion that will strike you as either modest or outrageous. I hope you agree, but l'll certainly welcome any airing of a contrary perspective.

Traditionally, philosophers have distinguished between our wants and our needs. But the two categories are not exclusive. Most of the things we need, we also want, as long as we know we need them, and no contrary desires get in the way of the natural effect that knowledge would otherwise have. And if some needs are wants, it follows that some wants are needs. But there is a side of this that goes beyond what's logically demanded.

I contended in the book If Aristotle Ran General Motors, that we all need Truth, Beauty, Goodness, and Unity - a sense of connectedness - in our lives, whether we happen at any moment to feel that we want all these things or not. But I'd like to suggest today an interesting extension of this.

Consider the two categories: Necessity and Luxury. Yesterday, I ventured to surmise that luxury is at its core about refined enjoyment and uncommon ease. In different social and economic contexts, different things can fall into this category. For people living very simply, there are simple luxuries that can be just as satisfying, in their context, as more rarified luxuries in another setting - your experience of a vase of flowers picked in the wild, a warm bath, cold water on a hot day, someone taking over a difficult task you were dreading, and lifting that burden from you, can count, when attended to properly, as luxuries.

Here's my modest suggestion today - or my crazy, outrageous idea, depending on your perspective: Some measure of luxury is a necessity in life. It's necessary for a full and flourishing human experience.

So, if I'm right, as you seek first to take care of the necessities of life, remember that among them  are at least a few luxuries. And when you indulge, you can explain that your philosopher told you to.

A Simple Luxury: Everyday Beauty

Every morning, we get these push notifications from social media - this person has requested or accepted a LinkedIn connection, that person has endorsed you, there is a new comment on your post, and you have new followers on Twitter. Going through the first run of emails for the day, I usually brush by these quickly. But today, a name caught my eye. I have a new Twitter follower who is the founder and CEO of one of the world's most interesting companies, and one that I especially admire. 

In 1988, Peter Stas and his wife Aletta Bax launched the Swiss watchmaking firm of Frederique Constant. Their vision was simple and brilliant: craft beautiful, elegant watches that would be useful works of art, and accessible to more people than the already existing high-end timepieces for which Switzerland had long been known.

If you are fortunate enough to have artwork in your home that you love - paintings, drawings, sculpture, beautiful rugs, china, or pottery - I hope you enjoy each piece nearly every time you pass it, or sit near it. And if you have easy access to a great museum, or gallery, you can visit to enjoy whatever is on display, sometimes created by the most talented of artists in history, or perhaps in your region of the world. But what about the rest of your time? Are you in touch with beauty in an ongoing way? I've come to believe quite firmly that there is a deep aesthetic dimension to our experience of the world, every day, and that we need frequent contact with beauty, in many of its various forms, in order to be our best, feel our best, and flourish in the most complete ways.

A beautiful watch is a small work of art, inside and out, that can go with you nearly everywhere, available throughout the day to add just a spark of the aesthetic to your experience. But the most beautiful watches, for the past half century, have become exorbitantly expensive, and have, in many circles, turned into rare luxuries whose value has subtly shifted, from intrinsically valuable works of art, to often primarily social signifiers - signs that set their wearers apart as members of the cultural elite, the "one percenters" with power, money, and status. Too many people who purchase such amazing, small handmade machines of intricate elegance that sit on the wrist and provide some of the most important information we can gain, do so these days primarily for show, to prove something, to indicate their level of financial attainment and membership in a rarified club of peers. Luxury, in step with this, has become almost synonymous with inaccessibility, the unaffordable and out of reach for the majority of people who could genuinely enjoy that experience of using the goods and services typically thought of as luxuries.

Peter rightly saw that this has gotten all out of joint. Luxury, at its heart, is meant to be primarily about ease and enjoyment, not social display and status achievement. So he and Aletta set out to create beautiful watches, useful works of art that could travel with you throughout your day, and be accessible luxuries, valued primarily for their mastery of craftsmanship and aesthetic qualities, not simply for their brand symbolism, flash, or bling. But of course, beauty has its own flash and bling. And now their brand, Frederique Constant, has become known for its purity of concern with luxury in its original sense, providing ease and enjoyment, which, of course, for most of us must involve reliability, something else they view as of peak importance. They significantly underprice their competition, not by cutting corners on quality, but by focusing on what really matters, and on what they most want to accomplish. And they provide beauty to more of the world, as a result.

Welcome to my little philosophy family, Peter! You believe in the right things!

You can follow Peter on Twitter, where he exists as @pcstas.