Often, I wake ridiculously early, my mind racing with ideas. This moment the most creative of my day. I find this exciting and invigorating, yet exhausting. By early afternoon, my brain is ready to for a nap. Thank goodness for coffee!
Category: Random
Simpler Living
I’m current re-reading “Simpler Living Compassionate Life”. Having lurked on my shelf for way too many years, some of my current questions called me back to this. Looking over some of the essays, it’s clear how much an influence this has had on my life. I wrote an essay, years ago, on “Enough”, and I see the early stirring of those notions here. The most recent essay I read, “Entering the Emptiness” (Gerald May), though, deeply challenged me.
Most of the piece connects solidly with my years of zen practice. The notion of space, external and internal, as sacred, something to value speak clearly to me. Embracing the noise of the mind and letting the random echos simply be. These are all things I’ve heard as guidance. One piece, though, haunts me. Abandoning the quest for fulfillment.
May labels, as myth, that “[i]if you are well adjusted, and if you are living your life properly, you will feel fulfilled, satisfied, content and serene”. This myth, I now see, lies deep within me. Also, I still find the lingering “if we are not completely happy…it is because we are somehow not right with God”. I see I must embrace that I’m not a machine. Any sense of dissatisfaction, of frustration, of confusion is not “unhealthy”. I think I see what makes this a myth.
Often, I’ve felt that I’m only on the “right” path when everything is aligned, things run smooth. When there are obstacles, tension, frustration then I’m out of alignment with God/the Universe/Force. May’s piece reminds me that, no, this is myth, too. That difficultly is not, well, this. That the madness and confusion is normal. And I can co-exist within this tension.
Wanderings
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Exploring a neighborhood park. Autumn, around here, nurtures mushrooms.
PR, Social Media, and Relationship Building
A few years back, when I worked for a large global company, a major NGO launched a campaign against us. I found it fascinating how so many people felt it was a major campaign by that org (no, it wasn’t). Actually, from their side, it was simple. One of their directors wrote an article for the Guardian, then their network of Blogs and MySpace accounts posted links to it with a “call to action” (call/fax/email “us”). This had a significant impact on us, and received a fair amount of media coverage.
This campaign utilized very few resources on the NGO’s side. The largest effort was the writing of the article. Well, that’s in regards to the campaign. The real work for this was years in the making. They built and maintained a large, global network of advocates. The NGO interacted regularly with them. Information was shared, input solicited, and the audience was listened to. Relationships created and maintained with two-way discussion. Then a blend of MySpace (it was a couple of years ago) accounts (pretty much every college branch had it’s own page), email newsletters and alerts, and a trust relationship made executing this easy and fast.
This relationship was key. Social Media simply provided the tools for speed. Relationships are THE currency of NGOs and activists.
Businesses (well, any org) can’t wait until the crisis to engage and expect to be accepted as anything other than defensive. Business’ long history of spin and abuse produced a legacy of distrust. Sure, this is generalized out, perhaps unfairly. It can be whined about, or embraced and dealt with.
Tumblr
Gorgeous Sunrise
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I love the color of this morning’s sunrise.
Our Records, Our Digital History
From Evernote: |
Our Records, Our Digital History |
Interesting piece by TechDirt: http://www.techdirt.com/articles/20100909/20294910958.shtml
Can crowd-sourcing work as an historical tool? Properly, I guess, the term should be historiography. Anyway, thinking of these films, disbursing them across society would greatly increase the likelihood of any one of them making the transitions to new media. Once digitized, transferring from one format to another is simply waiting for the right enterprising computer scientist to turn their mind that direction.
The same holds true for photos. Many pieces have been written exposing the superiority of print. I remain unconvinced. If your entire collection is digitized, it’s quite likely that someone, when a new format is developed, will craft a conversion tool.
Print’s solid advantage: never going obsolete. However, one can make a very limited number of hard copies of any image. Copying them is a relatively expensive process. One that automating becomes extremely cost prohibitive. Besides, I expect that more hard copy photos have vanished from our collective record than have come through.
Backing up both digitized photos and film is a, relatively, simple process. And one that is automatable (now that’s a word). By disseminating this record broadly, the likely hood of preservation increases. Due to digitization, our collective film and photo repository became massive. Now we must retain them. Our progeny will thank us.
Silly but fun photo
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Saw this wine bottle while shopping. Very clever piece of art. My attention was grabbed, but I didn’t buy it. Though I might research it and see if this something I would like. I guess the marketing is somewhat effective. Perhaps I’m a rarity. Someone who thinks through his purchases. I hope My mindset is not rare. Well, not within my circle of friends. The best one can do, I suppose?
Bee
This looks like A Metallic Green Bee.
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The Eleventh Day Of September
Today, acknowledging summer’s demise, I finally turned on the heat. Air chill, perhaps related to the gray, darkening sky. Or, perhaps, the turning of the seasons announced boldly; the date on the calendar be damned! I wonder, how cold was it, nine years ago, when the world went a bit chill?
Well, perhaps not cold, but rather hot. So often, since Nine-Eleven, Americans delved head-first into fear based reaction. Easily wrenched into “evil=muslim” paradigm. Fear. Our world shown uncontrolled, our dominance shown illusory, and the grand mirage of a world looking longingly at us (US?) for love and guidance blown apart. Fear shoved into our face, our people unused to this sensation. Irrational rage birthed.
I hoped that we, as a people, would remain above petty vindictiveness and bigoted rage. That we would be stronger, less alarmist. Our reaction to such tragedy based on effectiveness and reason. My hope remains longing for fulfillment. At moments glimmers of hope exist. Yet, I see this rage everywhere.
For me, Nine-Eleven speaks to the ease at which rage takes hold. Those flying the planes delighted in the suffering they caused. People chose immense harm, overriding all scripture’s demand for compassion. Ultimately, failure of humanity to rise to it’s potential. A potential spoken of by myriad prophets. Compassion, love; God’s commands overridden by a mad desire to slay for God. Madness!
In this morning’s chill I drove to breakfast with friends. On my drive I passed our local fire station, noticing the flag at half-staff. A sober reminder of the dreadful history of this day. Yet, up in the sky, against a horizon of blue sky and fluffy clouds sat a hot-air-balloon. They drift skyward upon a wave a hope. Autumn, a time of winding down, approaching the death of winters, glimmers with the residual hope of summer, acknowledging its eventual return. Life returns, hope remains; for that. A day will come when warmth returns, life blooms, and the heat turns off for a few months.