E Pluribus Unum: The Eclipse and Our Unity.

It was a remarkable day, wasn't it, with everyone focusing on the sun and its eclipse. People of all races and ages and political persuasions were putting aside all that for a moment with a greater, single unified focus. All the various tribalisms gave way, if only in our attention, to a passing sense of our common plight and wondrous journey on this small planet dancing around a minor sun, tucked away in a far corner of a galaxy among billions of others, flying through space at greater and greater speeds.

I was reminded of our unofficial national motto, found on coins and often repeated—the Latin phrase, 'E Pluribus Unum,' one from many, or "out of many, one." That's the brilliance of our history as a nation. We weren't founded on the traditional basis of "soil and blood" that's so common for national origins around the world. We didn't all always live here or come from ancestors who did. We're not all related by the tightest weaves of family and tribe. We have originated from many places and nations, and out of many religions and views, and yet we came together under a single set of ideas to unite us as the classic hope of the world.

In the gym today, my workout partner Don and I talked about tribalism and the global imperative. We can't survive as a species and as a world unless we're ultimately able to rise above the identity politics and splintered nationalist affiliations that spark anger and hatred and wars. Carl Sagan and other astronomers have worried that we've never had verifiable contact with an advanced civilization from another planet, perhaps, because intelligent beings always destroy themselves before they can engage in extensive intergalactic communication or travel. We seem to be rushing down such a path ourselves, with hot spots around the world, and nuclear weapons poised for action while irrational rhetoric heats up with threats and warnings. Perhaps we need a new attitude focused on our commonalities. Maybe even the celestial event of today can remind us of this. It's easy to do globalism badly. It's easy to do anything wrong. As Aristotle suggested with his favorite analogy of an archery target, there are lots of ways to miss any bullseye, and there is only one place to hit it precisely right.

I would encourage all of you to ponder this. Let's find ways of celebrating our differences, while valuing each other and rising about the tribalisms that threaten us and our future. Let's find something to focus on that will unite us and not divide us. Any other path will lead to an eclipse that no one will want to see.

Sapiens: Human Reality and Fiction

I just heard a fascinating TED talk, due to the recommendation of a friend. The young Israeli historian Yuval Harari gives a short and fascinating account of how human beings, of all creatures, rose to rule the world. The talk is reportedly a shortened version of his book Sapiens, which I have not yet read. The book is widely praised as not only historically astute but also deeply philosophical. I’m no historian, so I can’t judge that. I think his talk showed some interesting psychological and anthropological insight, but that it also displayed some overly simplistic and sloppy philosophy. We need to be able to disentangle the two.

Harari claims that we’re able to do two things that other species can’t manage. We can organize ourselves to work together (1) flexibly, and (2) on a large scale. Ant and bees can organize on a large scale, but their behavior seems determined, and not flexible in any robust sense. They don’t ever decide to displace the Queen and substitute a democratic form of governance, for example. They do what they’ve always done. Other species, like chimpanzees, can do things together flexibly, but not on a large scale. Harari gives the example of filling a large stadium with 100,000 people who come together in an orderly way to watch an event, as juxtaposed to what chaos would result with 100,000 chimpanzees in the same space.

He then claims that we are able to do both these things because of the power of the imagination. He says we imagine a God and a heaven with rewards after death for good behavior during life, and get a lot of people to believe this imaginative conception, and thereby bring about large scale order and cooperation. He calls any such story an imaginative fiction that brings people together. In his talk, he contrasts realities like a banana or a coconut or a mountain with what he calls the fictions that allow us to live in a distinctively human way. Another big example is what he calls the fiction of money. We are told that a dollar bill or a hundred dollar bill has value, and we all accept this fiction, and that’s what allows modern economies to work. We also buy into another fiction that people have rights, natural human rights, and that’s what allows modern democracies to work. But, Harari vividly and imaginatively suggests, cut open a human body and you’ll find a brain and a heart and lungs, but no human rights. Rights are a fiction, he says. But when enough of us accept the story, we can organize and do things we couldn’t otherwise have done. Chimps don’t buy into fictions. They deal with realities. But that severely constrains their possibilities.

Many others have talked about “the social construction of reality.” The great sociologist Peter Berger was the first I ever read on this topic, in his book of the same name. We do spin out stories, simple or elaborate narratives to make sense of the world and our lives, and when we come to believe them, that helps us live and work together in new ways. But why call these stories fictions? Harari’s examples seem to indicate that he accepts as realities only things that are manifest to the five physical senses, like human body parts, bananas, and mountains. But what of the postulated entities of physics that account for the manifest realities around us? What of the realities discerned by animals with senses other than ours? What of such things as love and friendship? Add up the manifest physical attributes of two people. Where is the friendship? Does it not exist? Is it a mere fiction? Why should our physical senses be in such a simplistic way the sole arbiters of reality? This isn’t science, at all, or even a sophisticated scientism, but what’s more widely known as a crude empiricism that we have no good reason to think is other than itself a fiction.

Does the imagination only invent? Or does it sometimes discover? Often, the advance of science and technology consists in someone, or many people, imagining something and then subsequently finding it to be true, or to be feasible because of what is now discovered to be true. The imagination in such cases seems to be as much an apparatus of discovery as of invention. It builds stories, yes, and in that sense, it fabricates. But are all its fabrications fictions? Of course not. The idea of a fiction, or a concocted falsehood that many people are somehow made to believe isn’t at all necessary or crucial for the story Harari is telling. Some of the imaginative narratives we tell bring us together to create conventions of usage, as in the case of money, and other stories may limn realities invisible to the crude senses on which we otherwise depend. Harari gives us no evidence or argument to the contrary. He merely asserts. But what might make us suppose that's ever been a reliable path of discovery, or a good sign of truth?

When we do think flexibly and on a large scale, we discover logic and the many dynamics of evidence assessment related to truth. And we come to see that assumptions like those Harari makes are more than merely questionable. They’re simply indefensible. Unless you want to think like a chimp.

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On Being Open: Adventures and Maps.

One of the greatest human qualities is a genuine openness to new ideas. Socrates perhaps pioneered the view that wisdom could consist in knowing how much you don't know, and being open to explore and learn.

Our problem, typically, though, is that our openness is limited and very temporary. I'm open to learn until I think I have, and then I quickly close down that particular aperture of openness and draw a map that I henceforth use to chart my way forward, with much less of a readiness to being further corrected or educated on the matter I now think I know. Maybe that's just me. But I suspect it's also a tendency in many other people. And when we have a map, we hold on to it tightly.

The problem is that pioneers have often been terrible map makers. The first explorers of any continent or island typically drew up very inaccurate maps of the new territory. It took other people, later on, to get things straight. And that gives me a nice metaphor for my own intellectual exploring. I shouldn't be so quick to think that the first map of a territory that I draw up mentally is just fine, and fully accurate. I shouldn't let it block further openness. A map is fine, and useful, but maybe it's better thought of as a place to start than as a place to end. Perhaps it shouldn't shut down my eagerness to learn and even change my mind, but rather spur it on.

Just a thought.

Heterologicality: A Short Silly Post.

If it's Ok, I want to post something short, silly and yet perhaps thought provoking.

I've been thinking about heterological words today. I know. I know. You're probably saying to yourself, "Yeah, I do that all the time." But for any of you who don't: a homological word is one that applies to itself, like 'English' or, perhaps, 'pedantic' or 'grandiose,' or 'multisyllabic.' A heterological word is one, by contrast, that does not apply to itself. Like 'monosyllabic.' Today on Twitter someone posted my favorite pair of heterological words:

Hyphenated.
Non-Hyphenated.

These make me smile. And Ok, I almost giggle. Maybe I'm too easy to please. Other more mundane examples of heterologicality would include 'Russian' which is not a Russian word, and 'dirty' which is quite clean, as words go. Now, as a matter of fact, most words are clearly heterological. Most adjectives don't apply to themselves and most nouns don't, either. 'Cat' isn't a cat. 'Pink' isn't pink. And so most ordinary heterologicality is fairly boring, however remotely risqué it might sound to anyone who doesn't get out enough. But some instances of it are more interesting, and for various reasons. For example, 'verb' isn't a verb but a noun. And that tweaks me somehow. Moreover, 'uppercase' isn't at all what it denotes. Of course, the same is true of 'LOWERCASE' - but it seems to work a bit too hard to get its similar status.

Do you have any favorites? Homological or Heterological?

Fun Cosmic Bonus Question: Is 'heterological' itself heterological or not?

Postscript: I get a big kick out of stuff like this. So I've presented these ideas orally to some smart normal people today, and all I got in return were fairly blank stares, or other forms of non-reaction. I guess I need to get some better material. I'd hate to be the sort of guy who comes to be known for thinking that words like 'entertaining' or 'hilarious' are even remotely homological.

*Sigh*

Philosophy: A Few Thoughts

Philosophy is the ongoing effort to peel back the layers of this life and discover the deepest truths of our unexpected and wondrous world. When done right, it’s inquiry and deliberation at their best. It's also the one use of reason that's well aware of reason's contours and limits. It’s meant to be much more than an entertainment for some, and an irritant for others. It’s a guide for making and walking our proper paths in life. It's a liberator and a muse, freeing us and calling us forth to a creative art of life.

Philosophy destroys the false and elicits the true. It unmasks the mundane to show us the beautiful. It seeks the good and hints at what might be the unity, the one, beneath all else. It has no masters, only students. Its heroes are simply those who toil hardest, show us the most, spark us well, and help us along our own way. It’s about the highest and the deepest, the biggest and the smallest, all at once, and even as it examines what that 'once' might be.

Philosophy can enrich us immensely, but it pays no bills. Has anyone ever been paid just to think? We who do it full time are paid to speak, and write, and teach. But the thinking itself is its own reward. Done well, philosophy is something that can’t possibly disappoint. Done badly, it’s a danger and a calamity. But it also explains to us why it has these opposite potentials. It urges all of us to let it enhance our lives. But it advises us as well to tread carefully as we heed its invitation.

Crucial Morning Thoughts

To the ancients, virtue is strength (Latin virtu - prowess, strength). A virtue is an inner strength you bring to any challenge.

To Aristotle, a strong affinity for truth—finding it, telling it, living it—is as vital a virtue as courage. In fact, they're connected.

The fearful, the cowardly, will neither face nor live the truth in its wholeness. A courageous person, by contrast, embraces reality.

True strength is compassionate and never cruel. True courage flows from the deepest love and is always aligned with inner nobility.

Resilience requires courage and a robust sense of hope. Hopelessness never adapts or rises high.

The greater a person is, the harder it is to insult them. Many may try, but as when shooting at a distant target, the arrows fall far short.

Those who are always offended and insulted and incensed are spiritually emaciated, and without inner strength.

There is an air of insult and offense breathed in and out by those who have no spiritual depth or core. We do well to help or to avoid them.

The one who cannot keep his head and keep his counsel cannot lead others, or even a life worth living.

Dignity isn’t an outmoded, antiquarian value, but is rather the sign of inner wealth, wisdom, and strength.

A Work of Hope

Most businesses cater to either our realized needs, our desires, or our fantasies. And of course, these three categories are connected in various ways. Some businesses cater to our fears, and a few, to our hopes. Commentators have told me over the years that one reason my talks and books are successful is that they bring people hope. They display the wisdom we need to spark and ground our hopes for a better future. And today, I've realized for the first time that this may also be true of the new novels I've been writing.

I've enjoyed or benefited from various types of dystopian literature at times in my life - from Orwell's books to The Handmaid's Tale to The Hunger Games and the Divergent series. And in troubled times, people often turn to such books as needed cautionary tales, and as instructive explorations into the dark side of human nature. After the Arab Spring of 2010 and 2011 worked out so badly, at least in the short run, writers in North Africa began a sudden turn toward darkness in their own poems and fiction. I certainly understand that. But there's a big part of me sensing now that what we most need in turbulent times is a literature of hope, well grounded, thoughtful, responsible hope. And as I deepen in that realization, I come to see that this is exactly what I've been writing and editing for the past six years—an epic adventure series of books, set in Egypt in 1934 and 1935, that explores the best in our nature as it responds to the worst. Issues of courage, friendship, love, and the power of the mind weave through the books and cumulatively create the elements of a very powerful worldview, anchored in ancient thought and yet responsive to the best of modern science. Without realizing what I've been doing—other than writing as fast as I could to get onto the computer a vivid movie I was seeing in my head each day—I was bringing into the world precisely the sort of literature I think we now most need, in our nation and globally. And that gives me a new sense of excitement and personal adventure about continuing to bring these novels into print for their growing audience. After being told by my agents repeatedly that I'm a nonfiction writer, not a fiction guy, even without looking at the fiction, I decided to create my own imprint and a business to bring these new books into existence in our time. And a new publishing imprint unconnected from the major New York houses that I've worked through in the past gets no publicity, but then provides many distinctive gratifications. And, again, as I've said here before, I deeply appreciate those of you who are reading and writing me your impressions of these books. May we together launch something very new into our time. www.TheOasisWithin.com

Fear. And Love.

What should we think about fear? Maybe Aristotle can guide us in the way he assessed the very different, but often related, emotion of anger. He believed the value of this powerful state of mind and heart could be revealed by such questions as: Toward what or whom? In what measure? For how long? And to what end? We should probably ask the same questions about any instance of fear. When there are real dangers, fear is rational. And it can be reasonable for us to allow it sometimes to call the shots, determining our thoughts and actions at a particular moment, or in a certain fraught situation, and thus guiding our behavior then and there. But this should not be a common occurrence. And there could be a better alternative.

A courageous person never lets fear unhinge him or her and always seeks to do the right thing, regardless of any dangers that might loom and threaten. Sometimes, that means listening to fear and accepting its guidance to pause, or stop, or retreat, or avoid. There are times when it's wise to be moved by fear. But in modern life, this emotion tends to intrude into our thoughts and feelings much more often than its help is needed. Practical wisdom, or prudence, demands that we respect a wide range of values in our actions, and those values encompass proper concerns for our own health and self preservation, as well as for those we love, and even to consider and protect a positive reputation among at least the wise in our communities. But fear is often a bully in its warnings that we may lose what we value, and is as subtle as any insidious force can be.

Fear has a thousand faces. It quite often presents itself as something other than what it is—as perhaps a common sense and reasonable desire for safety, or security, or comfort, or simply for what's known, as distinct from what might be clearly uncertain and unknown. It can make itself look like altruism, or moderation, or sheer rationality, and even when it's the polar opposite of these things.

I've let fear influence my choices far too often in life. But I never recognized it at the time. I was a master of self-deception. And, whether I know you well or not, I can imagine that you are, too. We all have this unfortunate skill. We can rationalize almost anything. And the smarter we are, the more convincing we can be, not only to others, but to ourselves. We allow fear to mask itself as a proper concern for another person, or as the voice of reason, when it's not that at all. And we need to learn the form of discernment, a component of wisdom that allows us to spot our emotions and motivations for what they are, rather than being moved around by what they appear to be. It's almost as if negative emotions can be illusionist shape-shifters and masters of disguise. Part of the Platonic program of stripping away illusions and getting beyond appearances means unmasking them and refusing them illegitimate power.

Fear can present itself as any reasonable person's primary concern. After all, what's more important than survival, it asks us. Well, perhaps a lot. I've come to see fear as being, at best, a rare and secondary motivator along the course of an imperfect life. Yes, it can be helpful. And for that we should thank it. By I now refuse to allow it to call the shots as often as it would like. I'll feel its cousin anxiety arise within me, but nowadays I'll spot it, and question its validity in the moment or the situation, and dismiss it from my heart and mind when it's counterproductive, or in other ways uncalled for. I hope you will, too.

Salespeople are trained in some organizations to act on the fact that most people are much more motivated by a fear of loss than by a desire of gain. And I have a corresponding suggestion: We should not be among those fearful people, and thus, by our own independence, diminish their numbers. No one has ever attained excellence or greatness by following a path of fear. No one ever made his or her best contribution to the world from a place of fear.

It's often been said: Two forces motivate us—love and fear. I recommend love. It's a vastly better guide, overall, than fear. It can give us the true safety that fear always pretends to care about, and yet without the illusions, constraints and deceptions of fear. Love, understood properly and done right, should be our prime mover and most consulted guide.

I think of love here in the deepest spiritual sense, and very differently from the popular understanding—not as an emotion at its core, but as a perspective and commitment to certain positive values, and to the good of all souls. Love is, on this perspective, the main application of wisdom, which is both love's fount and guide. If you value the right things, and embrace those values properly, if you have the right perspectives and insights, you don't need the goad of visceral emotions like fear or anger to motivate proper action. Love wins over all.

On this view, fear is merely a substitute motivator for those who have not fully developed love. And the tug of this pretender can misfire frequently and actually keep us away from the path of what we ought to do. Sometimes, the visceral electric shock of the snake at your feet or the sound in the night simply prevents the right exercise of the mind and the quick action you need. That's why the quintessential hero has a calm mind and a good heart. She does what needs to be done not from fear but love.

And in the end, I think that the deepest spiritual love is a mark of true courage. That's why we hesitate ever to attribute this virtue to suicide bombers or any terrorists, despite the actions that intentionally take them to danger and death. Their fanaticism may mimic courage and produce a counterfeit that's convincing in the minds of their fellow fanatics, but that's because they fail to understand the nature of genuine courage, by their blindness to true love. Any of us, in lesser ways, can make the same mistake. Love puts fear in its proper place. And as the Gospel says, perfect love casts out fear. When love is perfected, this alternative motivator is not needed in any way. It’s left behind. And this is a state of being for us all to hope for and to seek to attain.

Sponge-Worthy Morning Thoughts

Fear is not typically your friend. Anxiety isn't your best advisor. Hang out instead with hope and courage for your finest path forward.

My dreams bring me issues I need to address, and most often in a very creative form. I've learned to pay attention.

The thing about Socrates that most stands out to me was his courage. And I've come to see that as a central quality for any fulfilling life.

Compassion and Courage. What would the world be like if these two qualities led us every day, in equal measure, and applied by wisdom? Let’s bring a little more of each into our lives.

When we cultivate the thought beyond words, we begin to explore a realm of wonder that far exceeds the reach of language.

What if creativity is really your default setting? It could be that you just need to remove some artificial obstacles in order to be your innovative artistic best.

When circumstances squeeze you, it's best not to be a dry sponge. And what you'll give out will be what you've soaked up. Remember that.

Friends can double the good and cut the bad in half. Aristotle understood that it would be difficult to live a great life without friends.

The one external good that's of genuine internal worth is a friend.

Philosophy: Some Thoughts

Philosophy etymologically means "the love of wisdom." And since wisdom is more than knowledge, but is a whole-life phenomenon, philosophy is about living well.

Philosophical wisdom is the depth of understanding that's meant to percolate through every aspect of your life—guiding your path, and lifting you up.

Philosophy isn't argument. And it isn't about intellectual positions. It's a life commitment to wisdom and virtue in all their forms.

The philosophical quest is meant to be the deepest and most comprehensive adventure of them all. Without it, we either drift, or run headlong down all the wrong paths.

Discernment and courage, along with compassion, are or ought to be, the pillars of philosophy.

Philosophy is first of all about love (philo). Without that, wisdom and virtue are genuinely impossible, at the very deepest level.

Speak the truth in love, live with perspective, explore the rich realm of possibility with boldness. Nurture others, encourage them, and build creatively in all things. That’s the challenge of philosophy, done right.

Wisdom. Some Musings.

Wisdom is perhaps the greatest human good, because it can then lead to most or all of the others.

It's never about aphorisms or clever sayings, but can at times be captured or stimulated by such verbal artistry.

Wisdom is about perception, interpretation, perspective, attitude, emotion, commitment, and action. It's all encompassing.

Too many of us come to wisdom much later in life than we would, in wise retrospect, have liked. But: Better late than never.

Wisdom is a matter of the soul and the body together.

It's as rare in our world as it is important.

We need it in our own hearts and minds, but also in our friends, families, associates, and political representatives. The more we cultivate it within, the better we can bring it to others, and receive it well when they bring it to us.

A lack of wisdom isn't just inconvenient, but actually dangerous.

Wisdom is almost as contagious as foolishness, but not quite.

The best way to enhance it in your life is to network with sages, and engage in often and honest self examination.

Wisdom can lead us down surprising and wonderful paths, if we'll just let it. But of course that requires courage, which, fortunately, wisdom can itself bring.

Great Summer Read!

I just read a book you will love. It has 35 short chapters written by some of the most successful public people over the past few decades—in sports, journalism, politics, and many other walks of life. The book is What Made me Who I Am, and is brought to us by Bernie Swain, a co-founder of the famous Washington Speakers Bureau. The book starts with Bernie’s own story of overcoming all odds and creating a mammoth enterprise that has benefitted millions of people, and yet started out in the cramped space of an office supply closet, which was his first office.

You’ll hear from Olympic Gold Medalist Mary Lou Retton about how she great up in a small coal mining town in West Virginia and found her way to inspiring the world with her gymnastic exploits. The very things she was criticized for as a child (always jumping and cartwheeling and such) became the keys to her future greatness. Even her small stature, which had seemed a weakness, became in gymnastics a strength.

Terry Bradshaw went from a southern university football team where he was on top of the world, to being a first round draft pick in the NFL with the Pittsburgh Steelers and then, in his words, he got to the big city and managed to “hit the ground stumbling.” He tells about the early failures and terrible humiliations he suffered in the big show before turning things around, in a way that provides a lesson for us all.

Madeline Albright, Tony Blair, Tom Brokaw, James Carville, Doris Kearns Goodwin, Lou Holts, Mike Krzyzewski (and I still can’t believe that’s how you spell it), Colin Powell and a big cast of other great people tell you their stories, and reveal the inflection points where tragedy could become triumph, or failure could turn into fame and fortune, largely through attitudes of service, hard work, and persistence.

I was endlessly fascinated and inspired by these stories. I think you will be, too. They’ll give you a bigger and broader sense of the possibilities for your own life, and especially when things are not going great. These high achievers were not ashamed to speak of their flaws and failures, their heartbreaks and mistakes and turnarounds.

You know how, every now and then, you come across a passage in a book and have to run and tell someone about what you just read? There were dozens of places like that. I’m sure my wife got tired of me telling her the story of the girl who went from homeless to Harvard, or what it was like for Scott O’Grady to be shot down behind enemy lines and evade adversaries for days, murderers who would shoot him on site, and often walked within a few feet of where he was hidden. How do you keep cool in a life or death situation? How do you succeed? This book is full of amazing stories that will wow you and motivate you. I wish I could tell you about 20 of the stories right now!

Bernie Swain himself has meant a lot to me. Because of him and his great colleagues, I’ve shared the stage or the program as a speaker with many of the great people whose words are featured in this book, and so many inspirational others. In the early days of my career, I was always coming home to tell my wife that I had shared the podium with Colin Powell, or General Norman Schwarzkopf, or President George HW Bush and Barbara, or James Carville and Mary Matalin, or Mary Lou Retton, or Tom Peters, or Tom Brokaw. And I’d tell her about the thunderstorms that kept me from getting to Dallas in time for a talk and how the football great Terry Bradshaw drove across town to fill my slot so there wouldn’t be a blank stage for an hour. Or that I had just spoken on a program with an astronaut, or the Blue Angels, or The Thunderbirds, or the coach who just won the National Championship, or The Super Bowl, or the World Series. In my early days out of the classroom, Bernie and his associates made it all possible. And now, so many of his friends and my fellow speakers tell stories here that will delight you as they have me, throughout the years. Treat yourself to a great read!

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Joyful Mediocrity

Joyful mediocrity. It's a thing. It's what I feel when I’m playing my guitar, amped to the max. I don't need to be the best at it. It can bring me joy even if I’m just Ok.

How about you?

Do you really have to strive to be the best at everything you do? Can’t you just enjoy whatever makes your heart sing, regardless of how good or proficient you might be? Is everything necessarily about improving, and fighting to be better than others? Is life optimization a constant duty and demand?

Maybe not. Perhaps the truth is very different from that. We should consider the possibility that life is really not an endless competition in every one of its nooks and crannies. It’s not in all respects an Olympic track where we’re supposed to be racing and struggling to beat everyone else, or even our own past and fleeting personal best. It’s often a buffet, a playground, a quiet river, a dance, a meditation mat, or a comfortable room where you can pick up that musical instrument and just mess around.

Do you have a mug that says “World’s Best Dad?” Or “World’s Best Mom?” Guess what. You’re not the only one who was presented with that noble award. And you could then ask: Was it really something like a 3 million person tie? Or is it Ok to just be a wholehearted, kind, supportive, loving dad, or mom, or spouse, or friend, or boss, regardless of any competitive metrics that might be conjured up and imposed on you?

Don't get me wrong. Personal growth is one of the reasons we're alive. Getting better at anything can be enjoyable. Getting great can be just that—great and soul stirring. But it's not necessary to import this perspective into absolutely every area of your life.

I love Frisbee, and I'm average at it, at best. Mediocre would be the right word. But it's fun, even joyful.

I love to joke around. Am I a world class comic? Not by a long shot. Do I care? No! How about throwing a football? Fun, fun, fun. How good am I? Passable. See what I mean about the humor? I like to grab my wife and dance terribly until she makes me quit, about 5 seconds into the first awkward twirl. And I could go on. But she won't let me. Just kidding.

Fun. Soul elevating stuff. My heart sings while I recite Shakespeare. And I'll never be cast. But downcast? Never!!!!!

Am I alone in championing this concept of joyful mediocrity, or do you also have an experience of it in your life? If so, what’s it for you? What’s your love and joy—regardless of talent, acumen, praise, or skill?

A friend told me recently that he’s really bad at golf, but loves it. It’s his joyful mediocrity. I know people who love to play cards, but don't even think about winning. They relish the experience, the chit chat and just the time together. Sometimes, I get a kick out of whipping up a meal. And I usually dive into the result with enthusiastic gusto, although I wouldn’t expect anyone else to do so, and I’d really hate to see any review of my culinary achievement on Yelp.

Our entire culture seems to goad us on to work hard at everything, hone our chops, and rise to the top. But what if there’s a different way of rising, altogether, and it has nothing to do with any top?

In a culture of striving to be the best, perhaps sometimes it's best to just be.

So. Cultivate joyful mediocrity now and then. Unless you're my airline pilot on the job. Or a president in the Oval Office. But in other things, it's Ok to be average, or even bad, if what you're doing gives you joy. And if others can take joy in it, as well, even by laughing at your wonderful, delightful incompetence, then that's good, too.

A Cluster of Thoughts to Ponder

As Rome burns, I refuse to be a fiddler and insist on being a fireman. Grab a bucket, won't you? Join me in rushing to the calamity. Let's do what we can.

Words you never want to hear the dentist say to his assistant while he's in your mouth: "Get me the saw." Yeah. It's from personal experience.

Lesson from the dental chair: Almost nothing is quite as bad as it seems, or as good. So stay calm.

My job is to respect and nurture Truth, Beauty, Goodness and Unity—cultivating the intellectual, aesthetic, moral, and spiritual sides of life. And, yeah, it’s your job, too.

Justice is everybody's business, in the small details of life. Fairness. Kindness. Evenhandedness. And then mercy can take its proper place.

When we lose sight of the best in us, we tend to manifest the worse in us. That's a key to personal life, and to national politics as well.

Every difficulty, every challenge, every disappointment tells me something about myself, and provides me an opportunity for transformation.

Nothing's really ours. Everything's given to us for a time. We're stewards meant to care for all the outer and inner blessings of life, and share them.

How hard is it to listen? Just listen. Really listen. Quietly. Attentively. Compassionately. Imaginatively. As an act of love. Courageously.

We can't overstate the power of humility in life, to be like the humus, the soil of the earth, open and ready to grow what you're given.

When we seek to love more than to be loved, to appreciate more than to be appreciated, to encourage more than to be encouraged, we get it.

In times of high emotion and deep division, we're to love our neighbors as ourselves, and even our "enemies" - valuing their true good.

Too many people live lives of illusion. And that's a great tragedy of the human condition. Refuse illusion. Seek truth. Have courage.

Plato's insistence: Never let appearances blind you to realities. And that may be one of the hardest tasks in life.

Aristotle's formula for the highest human good was simple: People in Partnership for a shared Purpose. There's nothing solitary about it.

Never let adversarial thinking be your baseline or default mode of thought, outside the bounds of a real battle with bullets and bombs.

Dreams are the engine of achievement. But the gas in the tank is hard work.

Our Choices, Our Lives.

With graduation time here again, there's something well worth our reflection. In ancient Rome, only the upper classes had much choice as to occupation. And Cicero pointed out that the age at which such fortunate youth were supposed to choose their path in life was precisely a time when they were least prepared to understand the range of their options and the consequences of their choices. Interestingly, the same truth holds today.

When my friends were seeking to pick their major at UNC, they would most often ask themselves, "What do I want to do for the rest of my life?" And many froze in fear that they'd choose wrongly. My father taught me that, by contrast, and in a Ciceronian mode, "You never have to ask what you want to do for the rest of your life, only what you want to do next. The rest of your life will take care of itself, as a result of these much smaller choices."

In my novel, The Oasis Within, young Walid Shabeezar has just turned thirteen. And as he crosses the desert with his uncle and a group of friends, he discovers something about his family and himself that he had never imagined. The discovery then confronts him with an unanticipated choice. There are certain expectations for him. Will he agree to accept them, or not?

A famous literary agent who read the first draft of the book worried to me about Walid. She said, "But he doesn't really have a choice. He does what he's expected to do. And that just seems unfair." But is it unfair at all?

For most of history, young men and women grew up to do the exact work they had seen their parents do. Hunters became hunters, farmers became farmers, and homemakers engaged in home economics. A blacksmith's son would also begin to shoe horses. A shopkeeper's child would learn that trade, as well. But in more recent decades in the developed world, there has come to be an increasing range of options open to us all. And that's become a problem. Some well-known psychological experiments have shown that if you give people too many choices, our ability to choose at all breaks down. Faced with a display of 100 different jellies in their grocery store, people simply walk away. Confronted by 12, they may make a choice.

Mondrian once said that for a painter contemplating a blank canvas, the first brush stroke is always the hardest, because it eliminates countless other possibilities.

If a young man follows his father's work, or a young woman her mother's, or there is a continuity crossing the gender divide, yet taking family activity into the next generation, has such a person abdicated choice? In my view, not necessarily at all.

Let's consider for a moment the most extreme case. A couple wants to pass on to their children a business they've created. And all but one of the siblings prefer instead to do other things. Will the youngest then face a level of pressure that eliminates any real freedom of choice? Certainly not. Of course, the young person may opt to do something different, however challenging that may be. But suppose, by contrast, that this young adult child does agree to take on the family business and tradition. There are clearly two ways to do "what's expected of you." One way is to defer unwillingly, give in, and allow the choice to be made for you. This is of course a path to resentment and diminishment. But there is another way. And that is to freely embrace what's set before you, and take it up as your own chosen path. In this modality, you take emotional and existential ownership of what's been offered you, and you make it your own. It's a path of career choice that nowadays is rare, but there's nothing inappropriate or inauthentic about it when it's done in full knowledge of options, and with courage as well as compassion.

In like manner, many of us feel a sense of mission in what we're doing. I've felt that since one day in college, when, on a walkway near the math building at UNC, I experienced a sense of calling that was not yet fully specific, but almost an alert that I had a special mission upcoming, one that was soon to be assigned to me. This experience gave me great hope and confidence and enthusiasm about the future. And I immediately embraced whatever this specific mission would be, wholeheartedly and with great gratitude.

Did I not have a choice? Certainly, I did. But I responded ultimately to something that felt given to me, and yet I took my own ownership of the adventure to come, and have so ever since. There's a false view of freedom that we have to make up everything ourselves from scratch in order to preserve the entirety of our integrity. But there's another perspective in accordance with which authenticity means respecting who you most deeply are and what you're most deeply given to do, and then working with that to the utmost of your ability.

I hope for our current graduates that they can come to make such choices well, and in the way that will lead to a deep sense of gratification and fulfillment for them, as well as a greater good for us all.

Self Examination

In a talk I gave this week to the 160 top executives in a great company, I began with some drawings I had done of Socrates, Plato, Aristotle And William of Ockham. I mentioned what I think of as their greatest gifts to us, gifts we would use in our hour together.

Socrates called us to self examination and self knowledge. He even went as far as to claim that "The unexamined life is not worth living." He taught me that we should examine our beliefs, assumptions, values, emotions, and attitudes on a regular basis, and relentlessly.

Plato clearly expressed the difference between appearance and reality, and pointed out that most of us live our lives in bondage to illusions that constrain us and hold us back, distorting what we're able to know and do in this world.

Aristotle called us to dig deep in order to rise high, and base our lives on the virtues, or strengths, that we can ideally bring to any challenging situation, the chief of which is courage.

Ockham helped us to understand the importance of simplicity. In any complex situation, however complicated, there is a simple core. If we can grasp that essence, we can deal more properly with all the other issues.

For the first time in a talk, I suggested that we could all heed these pieces of advice in an interesting way. We should at some point take some time and do a personal inventory of the general beliefs and assumptions we have about life and work that we may never have examined before and that just might be among those illusions that Plato suggested affect us all. What have I been assuming or taking for granted? Is it really true? Or is it a mere illusion I need to shake free of? This sort of self examination, testing appearances and pursuing realities, will require a dose of Aristotelian courage and may bring us to some simple truths that might be liberating.

It's worth pondering.

How to Live. A Brief Synopsis.

Live to learn and love. Then you will learn and love to live.

A Few Elementary Thoughts.

Elementary Weekend Thoughts.

The Four Elements: Earth. Air. Water. Fire. We have each in us. And one will most often dominate a personality. Which is yours?

Fire people are passionate. Earth people are solid workers. Water people flow forth to nurture. Air people convey new things. Which are you?
We need friends who range across the elements - fire people to inspire us, earth people to help us get things done, air people to bring us new insights, and water people to nurture and encourage us.

Nothing enriches us like good friends. Aristotle would say virtuous friends, because only the virtuous can be a true friend, and not a user.

If we pay attention, what we read and hear and observe changes us, however slightly, whether we can later recall it or not. We are moulded and grow.

Education doesn't depend wholly on conscious recall. It's about drawing out the best in us (that's the etymology of the word). It's alchemy.

I try to learn something new every day. New perspectives and insights build up my ability to think creatively and well.

Nice can be a superficial facade, a patina or laminate of manners hiding the ugly truth. But the currency of kind is accepted everywhere.
Wisdom brings compassion. Kindness brings wisdom. The end of the stick easiest to pick up is kindness. So be kind to become wise. It works.

There are two kinds of simplicity - the obtuse sort and the sagacious sort. Sagacious simplicity is one of the greatest powers on earth.

Forgiveness is a form of moral and spiritual judo that disarms negativity and renders it inert.

Danger comes in many forms and a multitude of disguises. The wise see it as what it is. The courageous know how to handle it.

How often do you have a new idea, an insight that's never before entered your mind? It can make your day. A relaxed consciousness allows it.

When you stay on your proper path, others will join you for the adventure. Stray off it, and you're often on your own.
The most wonderful things most often happen at the most unexpected times and in the most unanticipated ways. Be open. Be receptive.

Difficulty can lead to ease, defeats to victories. Life offers us a profusion of such turnarounds, if we keep the faith and move forward.

Wisdom is like anything else of substance. Small acorns can grow great oaks.

** More on The Four Elements and their application to life is to be found in my book The Oasis Within.

I'll Rise Up and Fly

When I was young
I thought I could fly.
If I ran just right,
I'd rise into the sky
and go over the yard and the house
and the trees
until, floating a bit,
I'd catch a good breeze
and neighbors would see
and squint into the sun
and say "Come here and look
at what this kid has done!"
I'd continue to rise
and with such a big smile
my grin could be viewed
at least for a mile.
And, even today
I think, if I try,
the time may yet come
when I'll rise up and fly.

I've posted this little reflection before, and bring it to you again because of how it captures an aspiration deep in the soul for something lofty and noble. My childhood fantasy and true belief can continue to inspire me to rise high in the world of the spirit. I hope it can touch you with the same reminder of early dreams and ongoing possibilities. TM

My Favorite Book. Ever.

Yesterday, in a magazine interview over the phone, the writer asked me, “What’s your favorite book?” I actually get asked that a lot and never before knew what to say. I have lots of favorites. But I just may have discovered my favorite novel of all time and perhaps even my single favorite book, excluding of course, The Bible, which should never be a part of such comparisons in the first place, for several reasons. And I’ve learned that my new favorite book is considered a classic, though I’ve never heard of it before. It looks like a book for children, and in particular, for little girls. But it’s out now in a beautiful edition that the former little girl in our home had owned for years. Anna Bond, a family friend at Rifle Paper Company in Winter Park, Florida designed the new cover. Look them up if you don’t know their amazing work.

Anyway, the book is A Little Princess, by Frances Hobson Burnett, and was first published in 1905. It portrays the unlikely adventures of a young girl in London who, after living a charmed first stretch of life, is thrust into challenging, bleak and difficult circumstances beyond anything she could have anticipated. And yet, she uses the amazing power of the imagination, and the equally great power of good manners, and ultimately true kindness, to prevail over all. It’s one of the best books I’ve ever come across on inner resilience and the power of the mind. It’s charming, and even heartwarming, but most of all, it’s deeply wise.

Let me give you a sample, although excerpts can’t really convey the impact of the expertly told story, whose lessons often come through in subtle ways. In one scene, the headmistress of her school, Miss Minchin, speaks to young Sara, the elegant princess of our title, with great harshness, heaping on untrue and unfair accusations, while Sara listens without any sign of anger, hurt, agitation, or reply. She then muses over her own restraint, and especially on the fact that, unlike most people, she doesn’t answer the unjust accusations.

"As to answering, though," said Sara, trying to console herself, "I don't answer very often. I never answer when I can help it. When people are insulting you, there is nothing so good for them as not to say a word—just to look at them and THINK. Miss Minchin turns pale with rage when I do it, Miss Amelia looks frightened, and so do the girls. When you will not fly into a passion, people know you are stronger than they are, because you are strong enough to hold in your rage, and they are not, and they say stupid things they wish they hadn't said afterward. There's nothing so strong as rage, except what makes you hold it in—that's stronger. It's a good thing not to answer your enemies. I scarcely ever do. (Puffin Edition, 147)

And another, longer, passage, after a particularly shocking development:

Then a thought came back to her which made the color rise in her cheek and a spark light itself in her eyes. She straightened her thin little body and lifted her head.

 "Whatever comes," she said, "cannot alter one thing. If I am a princess in rags and tatters, I can be a princess inside. It would be easy to be a princess if I were dressed in cloth of gold, but it is a great deal more of a triumph to be one all the time when no one knows it. There was Marie Antoinette when she was in prison and her throne was gone and she had only a black gown on, and her hair was white, and they insulted her and called her Widow Capet. She was a great deal more like a queen then than when she was so gay and everything was so grand. I like her best then. Those howling mobs of people did not frighten her. She was stronger than they were, even when they cut her head off."

 This was not a new thought, but quite an old one, by this time. It had consoled her through many a bitter day, and she had gone about the house with an expression in her face which Miss Minchin could not understand and which was a source of great annoyance to her, as it seemed as if the child were mentally living a life which held her above the rest of the world. It was as if she scarcely heard the rude and acid things said to her; or, if she heard them, did not care for them at all. Sometimes, when she was in the midst of some harsh, domineering speech, Miss Minchin would find the still, unchildish eyes fixed upon her with something like a proud smile in them. At such times she did not know that Sara was saying to herself: "You don't know that you are saying these things to a princess, and that if I chose I could wave my hand and order you to execution. I only spare you because I am a princess, and you are a poor, stupid, unkind, vulgar old thing, and don't know any better."

 This used to interest and amuse her more than anything else; and queer and fanciful as it was, she found comfort in it and it was a good thing for her. While the thought held possession of her, she could not be made rude and malicious by the rudeness and malice of those about her. "A princess must be polite," she said to herself.

 And so when the servants, taking their tone from their mistress, were insolent and ordered her about, she would hold her head erect and reply to them with a quaint civility which often made them stare at her.

 "She's got more airs and graces than if she come from Buckingham Palace, that young one," said the cook, chuckling a little sometimes. "I lose my temper with her often enough, but I will say she never forgets her manners. 'If you please, cook'; 'Will you be so kind, cook?' 'I beg your pardon, cook'; 'May I trouble you, cook?' She drops 'em about the kitchen as if they was nothing." (pages 164-5)

Our Princess thinks of herself as protected by a sort of benevolent magic. She once says, "Somehow, something always happens," she cried, "just before things get to the very worst. It is as if the Magic did it. If I could only just remember that always. The worst thing never QUITE comes." (page 220)

If you treat yourself to this magnificent little book, you’ll be glad, and you'll feel Sara's Magic.

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