Shocking News About Wisdom

There's some important news to share. I've blogged recently about wisdom. And, because of something that's pretty astonishing in recent science news, I wanted to highlight an important side of it today, or maybe a way of getting more of it into our lives.

Wisdom doesn't just come from sitting and thinking. And that's a good thing, because few people seem to want to do that now. Even the fact that you're quietly reading this blog post makes you a pretty remarkable person. In fact, the prestigious journal Science recently reported an experiment where people were given the choice to either sit quietly and ponder their lives, or else administer electric shocks to themselves, and a surprising (I should say shocking) 64% of men and 15% of women chose the voltage. Pain over pondering. Sit and ponder that for a moment. And, please, especially if you're a guy, fight off any urges to go stick your finger in a socket instead.

I'm not kidding. This is a problem. But, fortunately, to gain wisdom, you don't have to turn off the phone, put down the pad, and just sit alone and meditate on your life.

Wisdom is embodied insight about living, a form of deep, practical knowledge that will guide our paths in good times and bad. If we keep our eyes wide open, if we truly pay attention, and ponder a bit what comes our way, as we're out and about in the world, we can accumulate a bit of wisdom almost every day.  And especially on those days when we share a thought, a musing, a perplexity, or a question of wonderment with a friend. And here's the good news.

We often have our deepest insights in conversation with others. That's the way we're made. We're intended to share this journey of life together with fellow travelers. We're meant to learn from each other and with each other. So make it a point today or tomorrow to ask someone a question about something that really matters to you. Listen carefully to the answer. And then share your own thoughts. You may find yourself with a new insight, a new angle on an old insight, a bit of wisdom that will light your path, a possession of the heart that costs nothing and yet may pay great dividends for the future. 

Any day that you've accumulated a new piece of wisdom is a successful day, the most certain support there can be for a truly successful life.

In Praise of Hard Work. No. Really.

Ok. First of all, I have absolutely nothing against having a new idea go viral overnight and waking up to discover I have a new reality TV show, 5 million Twitter followers, a private jet, and a seven figure endorsement deal from the Library Association. That would be my definition of sweet (as defined also in dictionaries available nationwide in your local public library - I'd get 10K just for adding that little factoid. But I digress). Instant success has its charms. But, there is a nubby weave behind the smooth tapestry of most outsized success. And that, right now, is my concern.

Let me read to you from the actual paper version of today's New York Times Book Review. Turning through it, I came across a page entitled "Devilish Audacity" where John Simon reviews a new biography of Sir Lawrence Olivier (Olivier, by Philip Ziegler), who was said by many to be the greatest actor of his time (in addition to "the most dashing of actors" and "the most seductive of human beings" - among many other superlatives). Simon helpfully summarizes an important point in the new book about Olivier:

He was a tireless worker: It took him two years to learn how to move onstage, and another two, how to laugh.

That got my attention, and I would have laughed aloud, aside from the realization that I may not have worked hard enough as of yet on that particular vocal and facial expression of astonished surprise. Then, this:

On stage and on screen, he could give an impression of openness, brilliance, lightness, and speed. In fact, he was the opposite. His great strength was that of the ox. He always reminded me of a countryman, of a ... peasant taking his time .... Once a conception had taken root in him, no power could change the direction in which the ox would pull the cart.

Impressive. And suggestive. Behind many forms of flashy, flamboyant success, there is a lot of dogged, ox-like, hard work. Two years to learn to move on stage? Two years to learn to laugh? Yes. And as we go out onto our own dramatic stages, at work, or at home, or in the community, we should not allow ourselves to forget the hard work that alone will lift any performance to a distinctive level of power. In an age that celebrates the fruits of work without equally honoring or encouraging the work itself that typically makes those delights possible, we need to remind ourselves that the greatest never get that way without a lot of hard, hard work.

But if you love what you're doing, you can enjoy even the greatest efforts. The hard work itself can be a suitable and satisfying outlet for your energy. And - who knows? You can't really rule out that reality TV show.

Worth Dying For? Worth Living For.

Socrates was given a choice: Stop talking philosophy with people, or die. He chose the surprising option. He said, "As long as I live and breathe, I will never stop philosophizing."

Wait. What?

In a broad survey of people today, and given two choices, you would probably find most checking the box that said, "As long as I live and breathe, I will never start philosophizing." How could so many have lost sight of something that, in the opinion of one great and wise person, is worth dying for?

Well, what is philosophy, anyway? The word's etymology, from Greek, simply means, "Love of Wisdom." Philo - Love of; Sophia - Wisdom. And wisdom, in the last analysis, is just insight for living, the deep understanding that alone can guide us well through the adventure we're on.

Think about it for a second. An object of love: When you lack it, you pursue it. When you have it, you embrace it. Philosophy is just the pursuit and embracing of wisdom - insight for life.

How important is it? The book of Proverbs claims its worth is beyond that of gold and jewels. Socrates himself said that the unexamined life - the life without wisdom - is not worth living.

How then do you pursue wisdom? How do you embrace it?

Socrates believed that every day we're given the choice - to philosophize, or to die. If we make the wrong choice, if we're not growing in wisdom, we're not really living, we're just fading away, however active and full our lives may seem. Appearances, as he also taught us, aren't always the best guides to reality.

Choose well, then. Choose philosophy. Pick the life worth living.

Novel Insights: Part Two - The Life of Pi

One more day of insights from the novel, The Life of Pi, before I either donate my copy to the local library or find a more permanent place for it on a shelf here. I'm glad I looked at it before dropping it into a donation box! It's been nice to see my markings and annotations throughout. Let me share just a few more insights from it today.

Pi Patel, as you may know, the narrator, was going through a harrowing experience. He writes:

I would have given up - if a voice hadn't made itself heard in my heart. The voice said, "I will not die. I refuse it. I will make it through this nightmare. I will beat the odds, as great as they are. I have survived so far, miraculously. Now I will turn miracle into a routine. The amazing will be seen every day. I will put in all the hard work necessary ..."

Too often, the voice in our heads give us worries, problems, and obstacles. It's unsure. It's highly anxious. It doubts. But the voice of the heart can be another thing, altogether. The heart is the most ancient metaphor for the inner core we all have, where perception, reason, intuition, and resilience reside. Listen to your heart, and you will often get just the message you need to turn the rare miracle into routine, and see the amazing every day. 

I must say a word about fear. It is life's only true opponent. Only fear can defeat life. It is a clever, treacherous adversary, how well I know. It has no decency, respects no law or convention, shows no mercy. It goes for your weakest spot, which it finds with unerring ease.

Pi then goes on to describe how often fear begins with a small doubt in the mind, which grows into great anxiety in the emotions, and then moves farther into the body, gripping us in all ways. Reason itself is no match for it. He says:

Quickly you make rash decisions. You dismiss your last allies: hope and trust. There, you've defeated yourself. Fear, which is but an impression, has triumphed over you.

What can we do? He doesn't say much, only characterizing fear as, in the end, a wordless darkness, and giving us this advice:

You must fight hard to shine the light of words upon it.

Pop psychologists talk a lot about the power of positive self-talk. It's easy to dismiss this as simplistic hokum. But the deeper we go, the more we understand the power of words, well used, to counter the irrational. Speak to yourself in the quiet of your mind in positive ways, and you can dispel the fog of fear. It's not easy. But it can work.

The book is full of other insights, but these are probably enough for our purposes.

Why do we read? For entertainment, certainly, but also for wisdom. I'm always deeply gratified to find real wisdom in an entertaining book. It's rare enough. But when it comes, we can delight, and we can learn.

Hope and Action

I've often been asked what I think the single most important quality is for success in life. Sometimes, I'm posed with the question of what is the distinguishing feature of highly successful people. And, in both cases, it comes to the same thing. To express it, let me quote a passage from the novel, The Life of Pi, page 168.

I had to stop hoping so much that a ship would rescue me. I should not count on outside help. Survival had to start with me. In my experience, a castaway's worst mistake is to hope too much and do too little. Survival starts by paying attention to what is close at hand and immediate. To look out with idle hope is tantamount to dreaming one's life away.

There was much I had to do.

The worst mistake is to hope too much and do too little. That is one of the most common mistakes in our time. We hope that a ship will come and rescue us - or a talent scout, an agent, a producer, a business builder, a venture capitalist, a friend with contacts. And in the meantime, we do too little.

There are many qualities involved in success, and several characteristics shared by highly successful people. But if I was forced to pick just one, it would be the tendency or proclivity toward action - an action orientation to life and work: taking the risk, trying that one thing, talking to that other person, putting in the extra hours.

Of course, we've all heard about the importance of working smart and not just hard. But what do they both have in common? Working. Action.

And it's especially important, as Pi shows us, when you've got a tiger by the tail.

What action can you take today, to move closer to your goal?

Ideals and Obstacles

Kindness. Mercy. Encouragement. Generosity of spirit. These are all moral ideals that I've written on recently. But there's an interesting thing about ideals. We never embody them perfectly. They may be perfect. But we're not. We fall short.

The value of ideals in our lives is in how we use them. They should be inspirational and aspirational - they should remind us, encourage us in the right direction, and often correct us.

The proper response to an ideal is to remember it and seek to live it. But we all encounter obstacles to the perfect embodiment of any ideal. We have our own psychological quirks and wounds, and some are buried deep beneath our conscious awareness. We have drives, and ticks, and sensitivities, and felt needs that can make it difficult to satisfy the strict guidance of our highest values. Something you went through in your childhood, or much more recently, could make it difficult for you, in some situations, to act in accordance with the golden rule, or your own best aspirations, in your treatment of another person, in action, gesture, or tone. 

Does that make you a hypocrite, for not always living what you might espouse? No, it just shows that you're a normal, fallible human.

Some people get all tied up in self-recriminations and guilt because of this problem. And those things then can become further obstacles.

How then should we respond to our own failures?

The first and most fundamental applications of kindness, mercy, encouragement, and generosity of spirit are always to yourself. Be kind to yourself. Be corrective and yet merciful toward your own failings. Encourage yourself along the path laid out by your ideals. And be generous to yourself as you seek and struggle and stumble along the road of improvement. Accord your own spirit the high value that you want and need to accord to others. That will create the conditions within you by which you can, increasingly, be these things to others, in even the most difficult of circumstances.

Love yourself properly, and you can then love others properly.

That's the real ideal.

Be Like Water

The great Chinese philosophers have had a wonderful and vivid image for how we should deal with times of great change. They ask us to consider the element of water and the image, in particular, of moving water.

Here's the first question they pose: What happens to moving water when it comes across an obstacle? The answer is obvious. It most often goes around the obstacle, or over it, or under it. Running water can radically change its course in order to find a way forward.

Now, let’s consider a second question. It's one that I enjoyed asking my beginning philosophy students at Notre Dame long ago: What’s stronger: water, or stone? Many of my students would just look perplexed and answer without thinking: “How can you even ask that? Surely, stone is stronger. It’s heavy and massive, hard, dense, and solid. It has real substance. And water is just soft and liquid.” Indeed, you can throw a stone into a container of water and displace the liquid instantly, loudly splashing it out. But consider the issue more deeply. Dripping water can wear down a stone. It can cut completely through a heavy, massive object. A torrent of it can roll huge boulders out of the way, or eventually smash them to bits. Because of this, many Chinese philosophers say: Be like water.

Flow toward your chosen destination with the powerful flexibility and harmony of water. This is a trait of life’s most successful people, in every sense of the word. Be flexible, adaptive, and patient in dealing with and defeating, or circumventing, any substantial obstacles that might stand in your path. And by doing this, you can be a confident force for positive action in the world.

As you set goals and move forward, you should be prepared to change in many ways, and yet remain consistently yourself, as the person you essentially are. Consistency at its best involves both flexibility and firmness. Water does what it does because it is what it is.

This powerful image can be extended. Think for a moment about how much water can change in changing circumstances. When the temperature drops enough, this substance can transform from a liquid to a solid. It can also morph from solid to liquid to steam, when someone turns up the heat. And yet, throughout these astonishing transformations, it never abandons its true nature. 

The lesson in this is clear. We should change as circumstances demand, flex to overcome any obstacles in our way, even radically transform what we do and how we do it in order to take full advantage of new opportunities, but, in all things, we must also stay true to who we essentially are. We should always retain our true nature and fundamental character. And that’s fine, because we human beings are essentially flexible and resilient creatures at our core who, while we’re always at our best when we hold firmly to the best changeless ideals and principles, can creatively adjust and adapt as circumstances around us change. That is the form of consistency that counts the most.

To quote the late Kung-Fu expert and former philosophy major, Bruce Lee: "Be like water."

The Power of Mercy

My guess is that you haven't thought much about mercy recently. And it may be quite important, to be so overlooked.

In too much of our history, power has been associated with aggression, force, and revenge. On this perspective, the good avenge their friends. They take what they want, and they celebrate their own strength.

According to this view, the strong choose to take, and the weak are forced to give. In so many of our ancient stories, across cultures, a certain warrior ethic that draws this map prevails. And for those who incline to think that business is war, the same can be thought to hold true.

But there is another ancient ethic that's very different. It finds ultimate nobility lying deep within the unexpected sphere of humility, and presents the highest power as associated with kindness and mercy. In this vision, the sovereign is a servant. The enlightened warrior is a protector of all that should be safe. And love is what finally conquers hate. Justice is important, indeed. And so is mercy. In fact, within this other tradition, justice is understood in such a way as to involve, essentially, the powerful seasoning of mercy.

I'm sure you recognize right away that these are things we don't often enough think about in the context of our work together in the modern world.

In Shakespeare's play, The Merchant of Venice, Portia represents this second ethic, this alternative and powerful perspective, and says, quite poetically:

The quality of mercy is not strain'd, 

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven 

Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest; 

It blesseth him that gives and him that takes: 

'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes 

The throned monarch better than his crown; 

His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, 

The attribute to awe and majesty, 

Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;

But mercy is above this sceptred sway; 

It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, 

It is an attribute to God himself; 

And earthly power doth then show likest God's

When mercy seasons justice.

Mercy seasoning justice: What can this mean for our ongoing work with other people in a corporate context, or in our individual life and business dealings?

Are we as concerned about mercy as we are about justice? Are we able to forgive whenever we can, and allow the people around us some needed room to grow? Mercy never condones or coddles, but it's meant ultimately to enable the better things that are possible. It's a realistic approach to the imperfections of life in the world, and always sees the potential in people. It's never to be unrealistic or unjust, irrational or self-defeating, indulgent or dumb. 

It's a quality, or tonality of action, that we do well to remember, as we deal with the rough and tumble of life. And then, we and others can be doubly blessed.

Oh, and by the way, I wrote on this topic in some different but harmonious ways in the Hufington Post four years ago. For the meditation, click here.

How We Treat Others

How we treat others is really, in the end, how we treat ourselves. Our outer conduct always has inner results.

In a great little passage from Shakespeare's play, Hamlet, the Prince addresses his colleague Polonius about some theatrical players who are visiting, and we get this exchange.

Hamlet: Good my lord, will you see the players well bestowed? Do you hear, let them be well used, for they are the abstract and brief chronicles of the time; after your death you were better have a bad epitaph than their ill report while you live.

Polonius: My lord, I will use them according to their desert.

Hamlet: God's bodkin, man, much better. Use every man after his desert, and who shall 'scape whipping? Use them after your own honor and dignity. The less they deserve, the more merit is in your bounty. Take them in.

Notice the evolution of the reasoning Hamlet uses with his friend. At first, he asks Polonius to "use" or treat the players well, and appeals to his self-interest in a fairly superficial way, pointing out that these are people whose job is, in part, to broadcast news and gossip far and wide, and that they'll certainly tell tales of Polonius, depending on how he treats them. If he treats them well, he will be well spoken of everywhere they go, and if the opposite, then his reputation will surely suffer. But Polonius objects, on what look at first to be moral grounds. He won't treat them well just because he'd benefit from that - he'll hold to higher ground and treat them the way they deserve to be treated. Duty, from this point of view, is always related to desert.

Hamlet feigns shock at that declaration, and jokingly points out that, on this principle, any of us would be lucky to escape a public whipping. He then suggests that the better course is not to treat others in accordance with their character or merits, but rather in accordance with our own honor and dignity.

The high path of moral action is to act well toward others because of who we are, not just in response to who they are.

Our actions should express our higher nature, and there are four distinct benefits from that.

First, by acting out of honor and dignity and treating others well, we set a high moral tone of kind action, rather than just responding to others in kind. We are moral leaders, rather than just reactive puppets who allow our own conduct to be dictated by others.

Second, by acting well, we reinforce our own ideals and higher tendencies. Whenever we act, we never just do, we always become. Third, kindness, generosity, and mercy do, in fact, more often than not, generate the good report of others, and this reputation indeed will serve us well in the hearts and minds of other good people.

And, fourth, we should be reminded of the words once spoken by Goethe, when he said:

Treat others as if they were what they ought to be, and you help them to become what they're capable of being.

By treating others well, we make gains, however small, in surrounding ourselves with the sort of people who are good company and good partners in making great things happen.

When we do well, things tend to go well in many ways.

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.

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.

My Most Embarrassing Book Signing. Ever.

A major bookstore event to herald a new publication can be an interesting experience.

I was telling one of the staff members at our largest local bookstore yesterday how much I loved Donna Tartt's new tome The Goldfinch. I had come back to buy her first book, The Secret History, which I'm now reading and also loving. He asked what it's like for me, as an author, to read other people's books, and in the end, he told me that when my new novel series is published, I should launch it at his shop, with a big book signing, and with lots of local publicity. At my last event there, eight years ago, they told me it was the first time in the history of the store that they ever sold out of books in the first hour of an author signing. It was great. I felt like a local version of J.K. Rowling, only male, and a philosopher, and publishing a nonfiction book, except it was indeed about Harry Potter.

But, in retrospect, I couldn't help but think of other book events past, all over the country - some with huge crowds, in places like Manhattan, and Kansas City, and Boca Raton, and others with small and yet very interesting turnouts.

My most embarrassing book signing wasn't the one in Washington, DC, long ago, where only one person showed up, and he told me he was the father of one of my students at Notre Dame, and then asked me for a $20,000 loan. No, that didn't come close. The cosmic nadir, the ultimate bottom of the vortex, was when I was at an independent bookstore somewhere in America, and had spoken to about fifty or so people regarding my newest effort, and had signed books for most of them, and then had talked to the manager of the store for nearly an hour afterwards, standing near the register, and signing lots more books for the shop to keep in stock with those little stickers that say "Autographed By the Author."

Right before I was going to leave, I saw an elderly lady walk up to the cash register and put down a stack of books - bird books, dog books, gardening guides, and … there it was: my new book about philosophy and life. As her other selections were being rung up, she picked mine out of the stack to examine. With a glow of pride, I watched her face as she thumbed through it, starting at the end and flipping backward. She finally got to the first page and stopped in shock. She looked up at the bookstore employee who was ringing up the sale. And, in a voice of supreme irritation, she said, "Some fool has written in this book!"

He stopped and looked at the page she was pointing to and said, "Oh, yes, that's the author's personal signature! You have an autographed copy!"

She contemplated it for a second and looked back up and said, "Well, I don't want a book some fool has written in!"

He got her a clean copy, and I went home, suitably humbled.

But I still sign books when I can, assured by my wife that, surely, it doesn't detract too much from the value of the item.

Seneca on Difficulties and Confidence

Difficulties and confidence: On a superficial consideration, they might seem to be inversely related - the more you have of one, the less you'll have of the other. But allow me to quote one of my favorite philosophers, the prominent first century Roman lawyer, and advisor to very successful people, Seneca. These are his thoughts, in my own translation from The Stoic Art of Living:

"The powers we have can never inspire in us a genuine inner self-confidence until we have confronted many difficulties along the way, and even now and then have had to struggle fiercely with them. This is the only way our true spirit can ever really be tested - the inner spirit we have that will never consent to be ruled by outer forces. The nature of such a spirit can be seen in the fact that no prizefighter can go into a contest with high spirits if he has never been beaten black and blue. The only man who can enter the ring with confidence is one who has seen his own blood, had felt his teeth rattled by an opponent's fist, has been tripped up and has experienced the full force of an adversary's charge, who has been knocked down in body, but not in spirit - one who, as often as he falls, gets up again with greater determination than ever." (Epistulae Morales, I.75)

In another place, Seneca goes so far as to say:

"Disaster is virtue's opportunity."

Disaster. Catastrophe. Failure. Disappointment. It's all about how we react to difficulties. Do they weaken us and take us down, or strengthen us and build us up? To an amazing extent, and within an extraordinarily wide range of circumstances, that's largely up to us. And in responding well to the trouble we face in our own lives, we can be an example to others of what it's like to be knocked down, but not knocked out.

Trust The Process

We have this tendency, most of us, to want things in the world to operate like a classic light switch, on or off. You want to change a bad habit? Cut the switch off. Done. You want a new skill? Click the switch on. You got it.

But, of course, life is mostly about process. As Aristotle realized long ago, we're all in a state of becoming. As we pursue goals, we're engaged in a process of transformation, altering not just the world around us, but ourselves, along the way.

If you want a light switch image for making things happen, try the modern dimmer switch, where you can start seeing positive results with the least little bit of illumination and gradually, over a sweep of effort and time, however brief in this little symbol, increase the results to a blaze of light where you then glow, along with your circumstances.

Almost everything in the world is a process. We're in a hurry for results. But if we're moving in the right direction, there's one thing we need, one thing we often forget. We need to trust the process, however slow or indirect it might seem. We can certainly improve the process, in many cases, and where we can, we should. But in order to be motivated to do even that, we need to trust the process. We need to honor the truth, or reality, of process itself.

We value doing. Most of us value being. More of us need to value becoming.

Trust the process.

That's your thought for today, as your process unfolds.

Pondering Tenacious Curiosity

Recently, I wrote in praise of curiosity ("The Secret Source of Creative Success" - to be found about a dozen blogs below). Today, I have an addendum. A friend yesterday sent me a link to a New York Times article on a 76 year old mathematician who happens to be a billionaire, and a good deal richer than others in the world of business whose names are nearly household words. Plus, he's a really nice guy who gives to worthy causes.

In the article, Jim Simons gradually reveals the key to his success. It's tenacious curiosity.

Curiosity can sometimes be like a bubble, forming quickly and popping just as fast. I wonder, we think, and then something interrupts us, ending our momentary intrigue. And the fleeting interest results in nothing. But in some people, curiosity can be like a plant, or a tree, springing forth from a seed of wonder, and then continuing to grow, and becoming strong. It's more like persistence, and dogged pursuit in this state of attention and concern that can lead to something great.

Clearly, curiosity won't help us much if it has an ephemerally short shelf life. It's tenacious curiosity that gives rise to patient investigations and what Simons credits as his ultimate secret weapon to seal the deal in his investigations - the proclivity to ponder.

Now, let's face it, pondering is not high up on the list of activities we're encouraged to engage in at the current cultural moment. To many people, it would seem as practical as yodeling, but without all the noise. And yet, it's behind breakthrough creativity, in math, science, business, art, and life.

Philosophy, Aristotle said, begins in wonder. Philo - the love of. Sophia - wisdom, or insight. All creativity begins in curiosity, or wonder, and the highest creations then come from sustaining that state of mind and heart, while also putting to work the power of pondering - turning ideas around in our thoughts, contemplating various aspects of them, consulting our deepest intuitions, and opening ourselves almost meditatively to greater insight.

So, my augmented recommendation today is to cultivate in yourself a tenacious curiosity, coupled with the profound power of pondering.

And when people question you for simply sitting still, staring out the nearest window, in silent consideration of the thoughts that your curiosity has sparked, you can tell them your philosopher recommended it as your key to the next great thing you'll do.

Ponder the possibilities.

The Inner Game of Everything

Imagine two outer actions, which would appear exactly the same to an onlooker. In one case, the act springs from a routine in a job that's long lost its luster. And if we could walk into that office and ask the guy involved in that action, he might tell us that he was excited about his job at first. It was his big break. It was an entry level job, but in a big company. The building was beautiful. His colleagues were smart and ambitious. He seemed to have his foot firmly in the door of greatness. But the culture around him soon became clear. It was all about the sale, all about the money. Profits were the air they breathed. But breathing that air, and only that, every day over time, had taken a toll. He had lost the true excitement of the early days. The enchantment was gone. It had gradually become a matter of pressure, and routine. He now still kept up the pace, and all relevant appearances, and did the work, but it was almost automatic, and without any inner soul.

The other guy, across town, the one performing apparently the same outer action - say, reaching for a phone, or filling out a form, or making an entry into his computer - lives and works each day with a strong sense of purpose, and a real passion for what he's doing. He's with great people who think and feel the same way. They have a camaraderie and a sense of mission for the work they do. They're building something new together. They're making a difference.

I submit that the two identical looking actions of these different individuals are really not the same at all. One of the actions is ennobled by the inner state from which it springs. The other is not. And this is not some flaky mumbo-jumbo mysticism. It's a difference that makes a difference. One action embodies something almost magical, and it will, eventually, if not right away, have seriously different results, on many dimensions, regardless of how small an act it is.

I've come to think that it's the inner that's always definitive of the outer, in everything. When the spirit is right, the enterprise is just different, and vastly more. Plato distinguished clearly between appearance and reality. We should all do so, as well. No matter what the appearances might be, it's what bubbles up inside us, what animates us in our minds and hearts, that makes all the difference.

Inner purpose, real passion, and the sort of commitment that embodies a spark of nobility simply brings something different into the world. Don't you think?

What will animate your actions today?

Humility. Yikes.

I had a recent lesson in humility. Actually two. I wrote this post days ago with a bad title and almost no one read it. That was lesson two. I can write bad titles. Actually, I should have realized that years ago, having penned a book called Anselmian Explorations. On one level, it was aptly labelled. On another, the phrase doesn't quite sizzle, does it? But anyway, my blogpost title didn't exactly lure in multitudes to philosophize with me. It was a lonely pondering day.

Humility Lesson One happened several days prior to that.

I had worked hard and for many days to memorize the famous "To Be or Not To Be" soliloquy from Shakespeare's great play, Hamlet. It's longer than you might remember, at over two hundred words. After a lot of effort, I finally had it nailed, with feeling. It's worth the effort, for the ideas you eventually glean from it, as you perform it while feeding the dog, or driving to the store, And that very day, the day I had first done it perfectly, start to finish, I was in the checkout line at my local grocery store, rehearsing it once more in my head as my purchases were bring rung up, when I suddenly became aware that the checkout girl was saying something to me. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" She repeated herself and I laughed and said, "I didn't hear you the first time because I was practicing in my head something I recently memorized."

"What did you memorize?" She seemed genuinely interested.

"The To Be or Not To Be passage from Hamlet." I said it with a feeling of great pride in myself.

"Oh, I memorized Hamlet once," she replied.

"Wait. You mean a passage from Hamlet?"

"No, the whole thing."

"The whole thing? The entire play?" My large balloon of pride was rapidly losing air.

"Yeah, the whole play," she said, and then added, "but, not in English."

"What do you mean not in English? It's an English play." I gave her a puzzled smile.

"I know, but I memorized it in Klingon."

"In what?"

"Klingon."

"The Star Trek language?"

"Yeah, it took me five and a half months. But I got it."

"Wow. Jeez. That's pretty amazing."

"Yeah, it was fun." My balloon was now empty and lying pathetically inert on the ground.

The lesson I learned, and reflected on as I carried my bags to the car, was that we should all remember the two inscriptions written in marble at the Oracle of Delphi in ancient Greece. First: Know Thyself. And second: Nothing in Excess. If you have a tendency to puff up in pride at the least accomplishment, knowing that about yourself is the first requirement for controlling it and reigning it in. It's fine to feel a glow of accomplishment, of course, but, as the Oracle also reminds us, "Nothing in Excess." Because, more often than you think, whatever you've done, there may just be someone else out there who has done much more, and in Klingon. So remember, as the Klingons say, yIDoghQo' - or in English, "Don't be silly," control the balloon of pride.

The Next Steve Jobs

Since I was first asked a few years ago to speak about Apple founder Steve Jobs and his extraordinary success, I've had several occasions to give that presentation and to further reflect on his life and work. In connection with these events, I've often been asked the question, "Who'll be the next Steve Jobs?" or "Where's the next world changer, and universe-denter, now?"

I think one such person just may be Elizabeth Holmes, who as a 19 year old Stanford University undergraduate, decided to drop out and start a business that may just change the world on the scale of a Steve Jobs. Her vision is for revamping healthcare for the better, and she has amazingly innovative and practical ways of doing so. One of the best articles about her is here, in Fortune Magazine.

It made me smile to see in the Fortune piece the little factoid that when Elizabeth went off to college, her dad gave her a copy of one of my favorite practical philosophy books, the Meditations by stoic philosopher and Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius. Explaining the gift, he said, "I wanted it to reinforce the message of a purposeful life," and added, "I think it really affected her." The stoics like Marcus, and Seneca, and even the most austere Epictetus, do tend to have that affect. They teach us the inner conditions for outer greatness, as I relay in my own little book, The Stoic Art of Living. The young Ms Holmes clearly got the message and has launched an entrepreneurial adventure that is likely to change the world in very positive ways. 

Let me give you an example. Do you dislike having a large needle inserted into your arm to take your blood into large vials several days before your annual physical, or any other sort of doctor visit? She's discovered a way to replace the dreaded needle in the arm with a painless finger prick, get all the blood needed in one drop, and do pretty much any test in four hours, and at a fraction of the cost of traditional lab work, which can often take many days. Because of her numerous inventions, we'll be able to monitor our health at a fundamental level and in an ongoing way, and catch problems before they develop into terminal difficulties. Medication delivery systems will also likely be revolutionized by her company, Theranos, with doses constantly tailored to patients and their particular responses, changing as alterations are needed, and with information being instantly sent out to both patients and doctors. The large scale shift from her small but powerful innovations will be amazing, over the years,

Elizabeth is described by people who know her the best as having "pure" motivations, wanting to do great good, and as being basically uninterested in the personal financial boon that her inventions and creations will inevitably bring her. What's made her so different? What's set her apart? Well, the pure heart was a great start. But she also combined this with a powerful approach to business. She's a young woman with great curiosity about how things work, and how they could work, instead. She's paid attention to common problems, thought about them creatively, and come up with innovative solutions that bring together divergent perspectives in a unique way.

That's a formula we can all aspire to emulate. Will it make you or me the next Steve Jobs, too? Hey, I'd be content to be the next Steve Wozniak! But, actually, I really just want to be the best TomVMorris that I can be. A strong purpose, pure motivations, a desire to do good, great curiosity, and a proclivity to take innovative approaches to common problems can position any of us to be the best that we can be, and to put our own small dents in the universe.

Finally here, a shout out to the universe-denter and game-changer Tanya Maslach, Chief of the Tribe at www.GoTribal.com, where healthy lifestyles are being encouraged in new and innovative ways, through the power of relationships. It was Tanya who just recently introduced me to the work being done by Elizabeth, whom I consider to be her kindred spirit. Go visit GoTribal and find out why.