I don’t want to make a big show out of that canoe trip. It really was just six days paddling around a lake. But it was also a window to a part of me that lay nearly forgotten.
There are many mornings when I sit in the library and watch the sun come up. On those mornings there is always a moment when I ask my self what the day will be for. It’s a casual question, easy to ignore, and it usually is ignored.
The question comes from some small place in me. As though it came from a corner of the dawn lit room. And when I actually think about it, it surprises me that the question comes at all.
It’s not “me” asking. I don’t wander through my day paying attention to what it is. Instead I long for what it some day will be. All my attention is focused on the future and so it surprises me that I can still even hear that question. Continue Reading »
In a sudden veer from all things philosophical into the more tactile topics of entrepreneurism, a few thoughts:
As investors, particularly in natural resource ventures, we want to see opportunities that target a market niche. It’s easier to navigate a start-up when competition’s minimal. Plus, in exclusive markets there’s less pressure on price - margins are wider. And that’s as far as the thinking usually goes.
But maybe there’s an even better reason. Listen to these TED presentations: the first by Dan Gilbert (a psychology professor at Harvard talking about happiness) and the second by Barry Schwartz (a sociology professor at Swarthmore College talking about choice).
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From Les invasions barbares (2003):
“Intelligence isn’t an individual trait. It’s collective, national, and intermittent.
Athens, BC - Euripides premieres his Electra. Two rivals attend, Sophocles and Aristophanes. And two friends, Socrates and Plato.
Intelligence was there.
Firenze, Palazzo Vecchio, on facing walls, two painters: Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo. An apprentice: Rafaello. A manager: Niccolo Machiavelli.
Philadelphia, USA - Declaration of Independence and the Constitution. Adams, Franklin, Jefferson, Washington, Hamilton and Madison. No other country has been so blessed.”
In spare moments I’m dabbling around the edges of genius. Unresolved are the questions: Can genius be created? Is genius collaborative or individual?
Following the idea presented in the movie above, where are the flashes in time where collective intelligence emerged?
Any comments?
Just finished reading the Apology of Socrates. Three things stood out:
1. Socrates was at home. He knew everyone. It’s a record of conversations with people he knew all his life.
2. Socrates believed that the wisdom expressed by poets, artists, carpenters, and philosophers wasn’t known by those expressing it. The wisdom came through them and they were innocent of its meaning.
3. Socrates was delighted to confess the width and depth of the things he knew he did not know.
Why do I expect everything great to be somewhere else? What wisdom comes through me and what comes from within me? Why am I so reluctant to betray my ignorance?
From the Thoreau blog:
“As I go through the fields, endeavoring to recover my tone and sanity and to perceive things truly and simply again, after having been perambulating the bounds of the town all week, and dealing with the most commonplace and worldly-minded men, and emphatically trivial things, I feel as I had committed suicide in a sense. I am again forcibly struck with the truth of the fable of Apollo serving King Admetus, its universal applicability. A fatal coarseness is the result of mixing in the trivial affairs of men. Though I have been associating even with the select men of this and the surrounding towns, I feel inexpressibly begrimed. My Pegasus has lost his wings; he has turned a reptile and gone on his belly. Such things are compatible only with a cheap and superficial life.”
Is it elitist? Thoughts? Continue Reading »
Two nights ago my wife and I were watching “Flip This House”. On the show two guys in designer clothes are trotting around buying garbage houses, repainting them and selling again (mere days later) for twice what they paid. A sweet gig if you can get it.
Anyway, the Prada shoes are working well for them and they decide to hire an intern. This guy they bring in is super keen and they start tyring to show him the ropes - make him a millionaire in a day - so he can be just like them.
So they’re at this beater house and they keep asking him what needs to be fixed so they can flip the place for a mint. Problem is, every time they start telling him something he answers his cell. Eventually they just give up, hop in their swanky truck, and leave him there chattering away on the phone.
When the kid finally realizes he’s been dumped he calls one of the guys for a ride. They tell him they will pick him up if he catches a peacock (they run wild in that part of the States).
So, for an hour and half this kid runs all over the place, chasing peacocks up onto rooftops, out into the road, and into everybody’s yards.
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My Dad, brother, brother-in-law and I just finished a week-long canoe trip around the Bowron Lakes circuit in B.C.. It was wonderful.
The lakes run along the foot of several mountain ranges. Peaks rise up on either side to tower amongst the mist. Snow hugs the valleys. Each morning it spreads out - white and shinning against the bare mountain tops. Water rattles down in cascades and tumbles into the lakes as waterfalls and cold creeks. Moose, osprey, bald eagles, king fishers, squirrels, moles, mice, owls, deer, trout, salmon, muskrats, beaver and even a cougar watched nonchalantly as we slid past.
The water is clear, green, and clean. We drank right from the creeks. Peering over the edge of the canoe, it’s often clear for several meters. Plants dance on the lake bottom, far below the surface. That wholesome quiet and untouched clarity touch something soulful. When the bottom of the lake drops away and the canoe slips out into the darkest depths of the water, the heart begins to sing again.
Long hours in the canoe were somehow shaped and stretched … time slips into the water and dissipates. It comes back as something rich and immense. Wispy minutes that slip by untouched as I sit at work became treasured moments. I kept looking around, turning to burn into memory the places we were passing. It felt like searching for a last drop of dark, peaty scotch or longing for some forgotten fragrance or finding a picture of a great friend I hadn’t seen for years - a deep, melancholic joy that true beauty was pouring past us.
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Time away brings introspection.
Long hours in a canoe give lots of room for thought.
While I sort through those ideas - here is a compilation of favourite ideas from the past. It’s a series of posts about purpose, perfection, and art. These ideas have become foundational for me.
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