In the coming days, der blaue Berg (The Blue Mountain) will celebrate its first New Years', and I must admit it's been quite a year. New Years' is often a time for looking back; to consider the road on which we've all traveled to get to our present place. I've noticed that in the blogging world, this is sometimes done by highlighting a few of a blog's best posts of the year. So I thought I would share with you a list of 11 (in honor of 2011) posts I deemed to be the so-called "best" of the year. Enjoy!
1.) How to be a happy hermit
2.) Contentment
3.) "Obsessed"
4.) Talent vs. Training debate considered
5.) A Wholesome Thanksgiving
6.) The Effortless-Effort of "Flow"
7.) My First Marathon
8.) The New Teacher
9.) Discussion of Overtraining
10.) A memorial to Steve Jobs (1955-2011)
11.) From Discomfort to Resilience
Also, an end-of-the-year post would not be complete without a warm and hearty thank-you to you, the readers, whose encouragement, thoughts, and kind words have so helped me learn and grow as a writer and as a person. You are truly an inspiration, and I wish you all from the bottom of my heart the happiest 2012.
Have a Happy New Year, friends :)
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Developing alternatives to college
The end of a calendar year brings many things, but perhaps one of my favorites involve listening to others take stock of the previous 360+ days. Sometimes I think it's sad people don't do this more often, since so many interesting "seasons" in life don't follow the usual calendar system (the school-year previously being the most potent example for me). At any rate, the last few days of December are a convenient time, if nothing else, to look back upon the days that were, and consider their significance in the coming year.
Newspapers often approach this project by rehashing important (or provocative) events, remembering those famous figures who passed away, reviewing the big ideas of the year, and finally, having a laugh at predictions made the previous year which failed to materialize. Whatever your opinion on the matter, it's often done.
One idea I "rediscovered" in the plethora of "year-in-review" publications for 2011 was described in an article by Sarah Lacy, senior editor of TechCrunch.com, entitled "Peter Thiel: We're in a Bubble and it's not the Internet. It's Higher Education."
For those who don't know of Peter Thiel, he is among other things a co-founder of PayPal, and according to Ms. Lacy, "has a special talent for making people furious." This is likely because he has on multiple occasions in the past backed minority opinions, and often proved annoyingly accurate in his assessment (for instance, navigating PayPal through the Nasdaq collapse in 2000, and more recently his own finances through the housing-bubble in 2008).
But it's one thing to get a prediction about the economy right, and quite another to endorse a program which questions a cherished national belief. Yet this is precisely what Mr. Thiel decided to do this past year, and his target is what he perceives to be a bubble of higher education.
Mr. Thiel suggests that "'a true bubble is when something is overvalued and intensely believed.'" Ms. Lacy goes on to compare this education bubble idea with the housing bubble. "Like the housing bubble," she says, "the education bubble is all about security and insurance against the future. Both whisper a seductive promise into the ears of worried Americans: Do this and you will be safe."
The promise (described in part in an earlier post) is not without merit, but as Ms. Lacy suggests, the logic at work in a bubble is often "rooted in truth," but taken "to unhealthy levels." Mr. Thiel contends (in Ms. Lacy's words) that this unhealthy level is reached in higher education by "pin[ning] people's best hope for a better life on something that is by definition exclusionary." Says Mr. Thiel, "'If Harvard were really the best education, if it makes that much of a difference, why not franchise it so more people can attend? Why not create 100 Harvard affiliates?'"
It's a fair question, but would Harvard really be Harvard if everyone could attend? "'It's something about the scarcity and status.'" suggests Mr. Thiel. "'In education your value depends on other people failing...It's a way to ignore that people are falling through the cracks, because you pretend that if they could just go to Harvard, they'd be fine. Maybe that's not true.'"
That last sentence suggests that part of Mr. Thiel's purpose is to develop what Ms. Lacy calls a "counter-narrative" in response to a belief about higher education "rooted in the most elite echelons of the upper class." Accordingly, higher education's value should not only be questioned; in addition, viable alternatives need to be developed that hinge not on the promise of getting into an exclusive club, but on the rewards garnered through creativity and challenging previously-held notions of possibility.
In that spirit, this past year Mr. Thiel launched the "20 under 20" program. "The idea was simple," says Ms. Lacy. "Pick the best twenty kids he could find under 20 years of age and pay them $100,000 over two years to leave school and start a company instead."
The program has not passed without controversy, and it remains to be seen if the "alternative path" the program hopes to offer will prove truly viable. But one thing seems clear: 2011 has proved a year full questions, and the years to come will bear witness to how efficacious the answers now being proposed will be. It's an interesting time to be sure.
Happy Thursday, friends :)
Newspapers often approach this project by rehashing important (or provocative) events, remembering those famous figures who passed away, reviewing the big ideas of the year, and finally, having a laugh at predictions made the previous year which failed to materialize. Whatever your opinion on the matter, it's often done.
One idea I "rediscovered" in the plethora of "year-in-review" publications for 2011 was described in an article by Sarah Lacy, senior editor of TechCrunch.com, entitled "Peter Thiel: We're in a Bubble and it's not the Internet. It's Higher Education."
For those who don't know of Peter Thiel, he is among other things a co-founder of PayPal, and according to Ms. Lacy, "has a special talent for making people furious." This is likely because he has on multiple occasions in the past backed minority opinions, and often proved annoyingly accurate in his assessment (for instance, navigating PayPal through the Nasdaq collapse in 2000, and more recently his own finances through the housing-bubble in 2008).
But it's one thing to get a prediction about the economy right, and quite another to endorse a program which questions a cherished national belief. Yet this is precisely what Mr. Thiel decided to do this past year, and his target is what he perceives to be a bubble of higher education.
Mr. Thiel suggests that "'a true bubble is when something is overvalued and intensely believed.'" Ms. Lacy goes on to compare this education bubble idea with the housing bubble. "Like the housing bubble," she says, "the education bubble is all about security and insurance against the future. Both whisper a seductive promise into the ears of worried Americans: Do this and you will be safe."
The promise (described in part in an earlier post) is not without merit, but as Ms. Lacy suggests, the logic at work in a bubble is often "rooted in truth," but taken "to unhealthy levels." Mr. Thiel contends (in Ms. Lacy's words) that this unhealthy level is reached in higher education by "pin[ning] people's best hope for a better life on something that is by definition exclusionary." Says Mr. Thiel, "'If Harvard were really the best education, if it makes that much of a difference, why not franchise it so more people can attend? Why not create 100 Harvard affiliates?'"
It's a fair question, but would Harvard really be Harvard if everyone could attend? "'It's something about the scarcity and status.'" suggests Mr. Thiel. "'In education your value depends on other people failing...It's a way to ignore that people are falling through the cracks, because you pretend that if they could just go to Harvard, they'd be fine. Maybe that's not true.'"
That last sentence suggests that part of Mr. Thiel's purpose is to develop what Ms. Lacy calls a "counter-narrative" in response to a belief about higher education "rooted in the most elite echelons of the upper class." Accordingly, higher education's value should not only be questioned; in addition, viable alternatives need to be developed that hinge not on the promise of getting into an exclusive club, but on the rewards garnered through creativity and challenging previously-held notions of possibility.
In that spirit, this past year Mr. Thiel launched the "20 under 20" program. "The idea was simple," says Ms. Lacy. "Pick the best twenty kids he could find under 20 years of age and pay them $100,000 over two years to leave school and start a company instead."
The program has not passed without controversy, and it remains to be seen if the "alternative path" the program hopes to offer will prove truly viable. But one thing seems clear: 2011 has proved a year full questions, and the years to come will bear witness to how efficacious the answers now being proposed will be. It's an interesting time to be sure.
Happy Thursday, friends :)
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
A question for parents, teachers, coaches etc.
It's been almost a year since Amy Chua published her controversial book Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, yet in spite of all the media attention it received this past year, the issues she brings to the fore continue to hold relevance in our time.
This is due to the intense and and often passionate scrutiny under which formal education on all levels (particularly college) finds itself in the US today. Mrs. Chua has not focused especially on formal education in the first half of her book (the half I've read), but her emphasis on industry and hard work point toward the same end: success.
As discussed in an earlier post, the recession of 2008 has led many to question assumptions once made regarding formal education, most particularly that a college education guarantees a good job, and therefore makes taking on massive debt to achieve that end worthwhile. Given that student-loan debt in the US topped 1 trillion dollars this past summer, perhaps it is right to question such assumptions.
But what of other assumptions should we question? A major theme in the first half of Battle Hymn is that children cannot be trusted to do what's good for them, so far as their future is concerned. Given the freedom to get less-than-perfect grades, practice the instrument (or choose their instrument for that matter) when they like, or remain only at grade-level in mathematics all lead to inevitable decadence and waste. Childhood is a time of training to become confident, competent adults of exceptional brilliance and skill. Anything less than top of the table is a failure.
Quite a vision, eh? It's remarkable how an idea can simultaneously seem so repulsive and attractive. How many young people dream of being successful professionals someday? How many children nurse an ambition to transform themselves into confident and brilliant adults? And yet how many alone can cobble together the industry and intellect required to make that dream a reality?
That's a pickle (one of many) in our time, and it leads some parents, teachers, and coaches to question how to approach the cultivation of talent and skill in young people. Should they employ an iron fist or an open palm? Assume strength in all cases, or weakness instead? Is childhood a time of training for adulthood, or a unique stage of life that transcends traditional conceptions of success?
These are hard issues, and I'd like to finish Mrs. Chua's book (and think some more) before diving in myself. You're welcome to share your thoughts if you have them, and wrestle with this important issue. Many thanks, and of course,
Happy Tuesday :)
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Enjoy the holiday by slowing down
Good morning, good day, good evening; whichever it is, I hope it is good :). It's the winter solstice today in the northern hemisphere, and the light is going fast. That doesn't mean, however, that you must as well. While few seasons prove more frenetic than the winter holiday season, there's something to be said for taking a moment to catch one's breath and take in the festivities. You might find by doing so that life can be very refreshing when you spend a little time just slowing down.
Of course it can be surprisingly difficult these days to slow down. It's is a demanding time for many, full of pressure to please and outdo. It's a bit frightening really, with stories in the newspaper about Black Friday violence, shop-lifting, and how once again loads of people are cracking under the pressure to make the season "perfect." Of course you find that in all seasons, but the holidays do seem to highlight such confusion. It's enough to drive anyone bananas.
Yet for all that the winter holiday season can be really great. The music is festive, the food is quite good, and the context abounds with wholesome images (bells, holly, snowmen, menorahs, stars, mangers, and frankincense to name a few) among all the advertising. Whether you're alone or surrounded by family and friends, you'll miss a lot if you forget to take a moment and slow down a bit. For all the uncertainty, difficulty, and tragedy in our world today, there remains something quite nice about these next few days, the first of winter. If you can just take a moment from whatever it is you're doing; to think of something that makes you happy, or something about the holiday that you particularly enjoy. Celebrating these things is perhaps more important than any deal you might get, or any gift you might buy (awesome as they might be!). It may not be "the most wonderful time of the year" for you, but it could turn out quite nice anyway if you wake up and celebrate the moment.
It's been said that our thoughts are like a garden; water your worries, and they will out-grow everything. Water your joys, and they will do likewise. And while winter isn't the most conducive season for gardening outside, it's as good a time as any to tend that figurative garden in the mind. Something to consider.
Happy Winter Solstice, friends :)
Of course it can be surprisingly difficult these days to slow down. It's is a demanding time for many, full of pressure to please and outdo. It's a bit frightening really, with stories in the newspaper about Black Friday violence, shop-lifting, and how once again loads of people are cracking under the pressure to make the season "perfect." Of course you find that in all seasons, but the holidays do seem to highlight such confusion. It's enough to drive anyone bananas.
Yet for all that the winter holiday season can be really great. The music is festive, the food is quite good, and the context abounds with wholesome images (bells, holly, snowmen, menorahs, stars, mangers, and frankincense to name a few) among all the advertising. Whether you're alone or surrounded by family and friends, you'll miss a lot if you forget to take a moment and slow down a bit. For all the uncertainty, difficulty, and tragedy in our world today, there remains something quite nice about these next few days, the first of winter. If you can just take a moment from whatever it is you're doing; to think of something that makes you happy, or something about the holiday that you particularly enjoy. Celebrating these things is perhaps more important than any deal you might get, or any gift you might buy (awesome as they might be!). It may not be "the most wonderful time of the year" for you, but it could turn out quite nice anyway if you wake up and celebrate the moment.
It's been said that our thoughts are like a garden; water your worries, and they will out-grow everything. Water your joys, and they will do likewise. And while winter isn't the most conducive season for gardening outside, it's as good a time as any to tend that figurative garden in the mind. Something to consider.
Happy Winter Solstice, friends :)
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
How to be a Happy Hermit
A few days ago, I came across an interesting talk by a Buddhist monk named Ajahn Brahm entitled "To be a Happy Hermit." In it, Ajahn Brahm describes how time spent alone ("hermit moments") allow people to develop a better relationship with themselves, and thereby a better relationship with everyone else. It's a nice video if you have time to watch (it's about 55 minutes all told), but if not I'll try and describe the pertinent points below.
As a monk who lives in a cave, Mr. Brahm is often asked if he feels lonely. He says he doesn't, and the reason is because being alone has allowed him to get to know himself. In a manner of speaking, he has become "best friends" with himself. That sounds a bit strange at first, but the more upon it he elaborates the less strange it sounds.
See, Mr. Brahm suggests that a great many people can't stand to be alone because they don't particularly like themselves. They think they're too fat, too stupid, or just not up to the level at which they should be.
Have you ever felt this way? I know I have, particularly around exam times or when filling out graduate school applications. You have an image of what perfection should look like, and you lament at the incongruousness between that image and how you view yourself. Some go so far as to hate themselves for being so different from the image in their head, while others simply don't like themselves.
In an earlier post we discussed a similar problem related to the "self-improvement urge," considering the place of contentment in growing as a person. Ajahn Brahm presents a similar conclusion, suggesting that spending time with oneself allows a person to realize that for all the faults and mistakes of the past, "I'm okay" (Before I continue, just imagine a jolly Australian monk saying this with a big grin). "There's nothing wrong with you," says Mr. Brahm, "when they gave out a body and a mind, they didn't make a mistake with you." By accepting yourself--faults and all--you can become friends with yourself, and not wage a constant "war" inside your head. According to Mr. Brahm this is critical, because a healthy relationship with yourself is critical for developing a healthy relationship with others.
Mr. Brahm suggests this is because those who don't seek to find fault with themselves are less likely to seek fault in others. If you can accept and be kind to yourself, you can accept and be kind to other people too. For Ajahn Brahm that starts with yourself, particularly in those "hermit moments" when you and yourself are all alone together. Learn to be kind and treat yourself well, and it will help you learn how to be kind and treat others well.
There's another side to it, however. Mr. Brahm suggests that by accepting yourself, you learn to stop striving after things and relax. It's amazing actually the similarities on this point between Ajahn Brahm and New Zealand running coach Arthur Lydiard, who use to implore runners "train, don't strain." For Lydiard distance runners had to learn how to relax; this was absolutely necessary for peak performance. Ajahn Brahm appears to agree, suggesting that people will see more improvement if they learn to relax and accept themselves for who they are.
So to sum up, Ajahn Brahm suggests that to be happy hermit (and indeed, a happy person), one should try and cultivate a happy, healthy relationship with one's self. Doing so teaches a person how to cultivate such relationships with others, and creates a kind of contentment that allows a person to relax and perform at their best. If you can make peace with yourself, perhaps peace with everyone is possible. Something to consider.
Happy Tuesday :)
As a monk who lives in a cave, Mr. Brahm is often asked if he feels lonely. He says he doesn't, and the reason is because being alone has allowed him to get to know himself. In a manner of speaking, he has become "best friends" with himself. That sounds a bit strange at first, but the more upon it he elaborates the less strange it sounds.
See, Mr. Brahm suggests that a great many people can't stand to be alone because they don't particularly like themselves. They think they're too fat, too stupid, or just not up to the level at which they should be.
Have you ever felt this way? I know I have, particularly around exam times or when filling out graduate school applications. You have an image of what perfection should look like, and you lament at the incongruousness between that image and how you view yourself. Some go so far as to hate themselves for being so different from the image in their head, while others simply don't like themselves.
In an earlier post we discussed a similar problem related to the "self-improvement urge," considering the place of contentment in growing as a person. Ajahn Brahm presents a similar conclusion, suggesting that spending time with oneself allows a person to realize that for all the faults and mistakes of the past, "I'm okay" (Before I continue, just imagine a jolly Australian monk saying this with a big grin). "There's nothing wrong with you," says Mr. Brahm, "when they gave out a body and a mind, they didn't make a mistake with you." By accepting yourself--faults and all--you can become friends with yourself, and not wage a constant "war" inside your head. According to Mr. Brahm this is critical, because a healthy relationship with yourself is critical for developing a healthy relationship with others.
Mr. Brahm suggests this is because those who don't seek to find fault with themselves are less likely to seek fault in others. If you can accept and be kind to yourself, you can accept and be kind to other people too. For Ajahn Brahm that starts with yourself, particularly in those "hermit moments" when you and yourself are all alone together. Learn to be kind and treat yourself well, and it will help you learn how to be kind and treat others well.
There's another side to it, however. Mr. Brahm suggests that by accepting yourself, you learn to stop striving after things and relax. It's amazing actually the similarities on this point between Ajahn Brahm and New Zealand running coach Arthur Lydiard, who use to implore runners "train, don't strain." For Lydiard distance runners had to learn how to relax; this was absolutely necessary for peak performance. Ajahn Brahm appears to agree, suggesting that people will see more improvement if they learn to relax and accept themselves for who they are.
So to sum up, Ajahn Brahm suggests that to be happy hermit (and indeed, a happy person), one should try and cultivate a happy, healthy relationship with one's self. Doing so teaches a person how to cultivate such relationships with others, and creates a kind of contentment that allows a person to relax and perform at their best. If you can make peace with yourself, perhaps peace with everyone is possible. Something to consider.
Happy Tuesday :)
A Time of Confusion--is College Worth the Cost?
Quite by accident, I ended up on youtube yesterday scrolling through videos proclaiming how much a scam college education has become. Given the times, perhaps this should come as no surprise; people are angry, and for better or worse angry people seem to have loud voices.
The issue is a hard one for me, which is perhaps one reason I spent so much time yesterday viewing videos of angry people; there are elements of their grievances with which I agree.
What are these grievances? Primarily, that promises were made which have not proved true. Sir Ken Robinson describes one level of this promise nicely in a popular video called "Changing Education Paradigms." The promise goes something like this and is well-known: if you work hard in school, do lots of extra-curriculars, and get into college, you will have a nice job when you finish. An oft-cited statistic suggests that people who earn Bachelors' degrees earn an average of $1 million more over their lifetime than those without. So understood, the promise described above takes on an additional level, which basically states: If you make $1 million more with a degree than without one, it makes perfect sense to take on debt to fund the venture. And don't worry; you'll pay it back in no time.
The last few years have shown that both levels of the promise have not proved entirely true. According to a consumer report from June, student debt in the United States surpassed $1 trillion this past summer, out-pacing even credit-card debt. Furthermore, "unemployment for recent college graduates climbed from 5.8% in 2008 to 8.7% in 2009--the highest annual rate on record for college graduates aged 20-24."
Fortunately there is good news. While I could find no indication that student-debt has fallen, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics (BLS), those with degrees continue to have significantly lower unemployment rates than those without. Consider the seasonally-adjusted numbers here. As of November 2011, the unemployment rate for people without a high school degree was 13.2% ; high school graduates 8.8%, some college and/or associates degree holders 7.6%, and those with bachelors' degrees or higher 4.4%. Whatever else might be wrong (or right) with college today, people who hold degrees appear a lot more likely to find work. For many people, this employment might be out of their field, or leave them feeling "underemployed." I am one such example, having studied history in college and now work in the refrigerator of a grocery store. I'm okay with that for now, but I can appreciate why people are angry.
Watching those videos last night led me to realize how popular it is these days to bash college (and often, college students). As discussed in an earlier post, research suggests that college students today not only appear to study less, but also don't seem to learn much in their time as undergraduates. Coupled with the popular fervor against college as a "scam," the message seems clear; going to college is a waste of time and money. Students today are lazy, and college curriculum ineffective. Get a job, start making money, and let the money-grubbing system of higher education steal from someone else.
Harsh? Perhaps, though who can blame people who feel they've been cheated? Our time is one of confusion when it comes to the value of higher-education, and I wonder at the consequences. Will artists and other non-technical types be marginalized further than they have? Will cash-strapped institutions start cutting language, arts, and humanities courses? Will our society alienate people whose abilities aren't congruent with traditional measures of talent and intelligence?
I hope not, but who knows. This economic downturn has certainly led people to question the value of many things, and I think that is something potentially worthwhile. Hopefully the angry voices are not the only voices heard.
Happy Tuesday :)
The issue is a hard one for me, which is perhaps one reason I spent so much time yesterday viewing videos of angry people; there are elements of their grievances with which I agree.
What are these grievances? Primarily, that promises were made which have not proved true. Sir Ken Robinson describes one level of this promise nicely in a popular video called "Changing Education Paradigms." The promise goes something like this and is well-known: if you work hard in school, do lots of extra-curriculars, and get into college, you will have a nice job when you finish. An oft-cited statistic suggests that people who earn Bachelors' degrees earn an average of $1 million more over their lifetime than those without. So understood, the promise described above takes on an additional level, which basically states: If you make $1 million more with a degree than without one, it makes perfect sense to take on debt to fund the venture. And don't worry; you'll pay it back in no time.
The last few years have shown that both levels of the promise have not proved entirely true. According to a consumer report from June, student debt in the United States surpassed $1 trillion this past summer, out-pacing even credit-card debt. Furthermore, "unemployment for recent college graduates climbed from 5.8% in 2008 to 8.7% in 2009--the highest annual rate on record for college graduates aged 20-24."
Fortunately there is good news. While I could find no indication that student-debt has fallen, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics (BLS), those with degrees continue to have significantly lower unemployment rates than those without. Consider the seasonally-adjusted numbers here. As of November 2011, the unemployment rate for people without a high school degree was 13.2% ; high school graduates 8.8%, some college and/or associates degree holders 7.6%, and those with bachelors' degrees or higher 4.4%. Whatever else might be wrong (or right) with college today, people who hold degrees appear a lot more likely to find work. For many people, this employment might be out of their field, or leave them feeling "underemployed." I am one such example, having studied history in college and now work in the refrigerator of a grocery store. I'm okay with that for now, but I can appreciate why people are angry.
Watching those videos last night led me to realize how popular it is these days to bash college (and often, college students). As discussed in an earlier post, research suggests that college students today not only appear to study less, but also don't seem to learn much in their time as undergraduates. Coupled with the popular fervor against college as a "scam," the message seems clear; going to college is a waste of time and money. Students today are lazy, and college curriculum ineffective. Get a job, start making money, and let the money-grubbing system of higher education steal from someone else.
Harsh? Perhaps, though who can blame people who feel they've been cheated? Our time is one of confusion when it comes to the value of higher-education, and I wonder at the consequences. Will artists and other non-technical types be marginalized further than they have? Will cash-strapped institutions start cutting language, arts, and humanities courses? Will our society alienate people whose abilities aren't congruent with traditional measures of talent and intelligence?
I hope not, but who knows. This economic downturn has certainly led people to question the value of many things, and I think that is something potentially worthwhile. Hopefully the angry voices are not the only voices heard.
Happy Tuesday :)
Friday, December 16, 2011
Contentment
"When you are content to be simply yourself and don't compare or compete, everybody will respect you." -Lao Tzu
Blogger Leo Babauta of ZenHabits recently wrote a thought-provoking post entitled "Quashing the Self-Improvement Urge," in which he suggests that eventually the urge to improve, "only makes you feel inadequate."
I found the entry rather puzzling, even shocking, given the culture in which we live. In my experience, there seems to be something deeply ingrained in many people which finds the idea of improvement--particularly self-improvement--highly attractive. The idea of ambition itself seems premised on the notion that the good life is spent moving from one "place" to another, accomplished usually through practice, hierarchy-navigation, and the cultivation of particular skills and attitudes conducive to one's goal-state.
When I was in high school, two types of people seemed particularly valued: those who accomplished great things, and those who worked hard to someday accomplish great things. The field of endeavor never mattered, the values remained constant. In music, the skilled musicians took the highest place, and the young, ambitious players who practiced a lot, got private-lessons, and worked hard to improve took the next. In athletics, the top athletes who scored points and won matches took first honors, and the motivated and hard-working took second. In academics, the skilled students were valued most, and the less-skilled-but-hard-workers were valued second-most. The point is that in all fields, the skilled and the motivated were valued most.
On many levels, this makes to me a great deal of sense. A music teacher can do a lot with skilled and motivated musicians, but almost nothing with the unambitious and apathetic. Skilled and motivated athletes give coaches the resources of which winning seasons--and even championships--are made. And it is the thoughtful and passionate students who make teaching a joy rather than a chore. In all cases, some combination of skill and motivation seems a prerequisite for doing anything which society deems worthwhile.
And yet I wonder, are we missing something here?
Mr. Babauta's argument against self-improvement is premised on the notion that self-improvement is goal without an end, urged on us by ourselves and others. "When does it end?" he asks. "When is anyone ever content with who they are? We are taught that we are not good enough yet, that we must improve, and so...we always feel a little inadequate."
There's something disturbingly-familiar about this line of thought that ends in constant inadequacy, and history furnishes an illustrative example. Reformation historian Carter Lindberg poignantly describes a similar adequacy-crisis within the context of pre-Reformation Christian theology, and consideration of his discussion seems warranted within the context of our question.
According to Lindberg, with regard to the achievement of salvation, a common invocation of medieval Christian theology says that one should "facere quod in se est," or "do what lies within you" (Lindberg 2006, 63). Lacking a precise measure of what exactly "lies within" people, a common answer to those who wondered if they were doing enough was simply, "try harder." So understood, salvation became an achievement for those who honestly "did their best" with what "lies within." It's no surprise that the image of a ladder so often illustrates point. The good life, under these circumstances, becomes one of moving up from an inferior position to a superior one.
Sound familiar? It may, since the logic of the theology here described closely mirrors that of Mr. Babauta's description of the modern "Self-improvement urge." In fact, Carter Lindberg even points out the congruence, saying:
"No matter what is accomplished, one may think more could have been achieved with just some more effort. Whether you are an A student or an F student you can always do more. 'Do what lies within you,' 'do the best you can.' This approach is not uniquely medieval or Aristotelian; it is equally modern, certainly American. Realize your own potential; anyone can be a success if he or she only tries hard enough; you can better yourself" (Lindberg, 68).
Within the context of medieval theology, this "urge" is premised on Aristotelian philosophy. According to Lindberg, Aristotle claimed that "like is known by like." Since God is perfect, this was taken to mean that for a person to know God (and for God to know a person), then that person "must become 'like' God" (Lindberg, 68). This task was accomplished through another Aristotelian idea, which contended that any self-improvement is the result of "habitual activity." As described by Lindberg, "Through such habits or practices ethics becomes a kind of second nature" (Lindberg, 69).
Does that too sound familiar? "Just practice," and "do your best" still ring in my ears from those confusing days in high school when nothing I could do was ever enough to satisfy my teachers, coaches, or employers. "Only through much effort and great pains are great things accomplished."
This appears to be the credo of the "self-improvement urge." Its central expectation states that with enough effort and discipline, perfection can be achieved. When it's not, "you are simply not working hard enough."
What are we moderns ever to do? If the desired end of improvement is perfection, shall we never be content with who we are? Can you and me and everyone else never be enough? Is it our lot to always feel inadequate?
Let me tell you the next part of the theology story. It's by no means the "end," traditionally understood; far from it in fact. But the next part may offer insight into the dilemma of adequacy at which we've presently arrived.
According to Lindberg, "'do what lies within you'" means that salvation is a process that occurs within us as we perfect ourselves. Put another way, we become righteous before God as we do righteous acts, as we do good works" (Lindberg, 69). When Martin Luther (1483-1546), as a young man an Augustinian monk, tried to embody this theology in his monastic practice, he very nearly killed himself through fasting and exposure. Even then, "Luther could not believe that God was placated by his efforts to do his best for his salvation" (Lindberg, 69). Faced with the implication that imperfect humans could never be saved, Luther returned to scripture and had something of an epiphany, if the expression may be used.
What did Herr Luther see? In short, he concluded that piety is not about achievement, but about expressing a kind of contentment. As described by Lindberg, Luther concluded that "We do not do good works in order to become acceptable to God; rather, because God accepts us we do good works," shifting the relationship between man and God from an "if...then" to a "because...therefore" argument (Lindberg, 70). For Luther, it was not a matter of "If I do good, then God will love me," but rather, "Because God loves me, therefore I do good."
I think a lot of relationships in our lives are premised on an if...then basis. If you work hard and show enthusiasm, then most teachers will find you a good student. If you can help a team win the match, then the coach will usually be glad to have you. A musician who's willing to work hard, learn the music, and come to class prepared is what most band directors would likely consider a model student. It seems so common, and yet it's based entirely on conditions. "If you do what I want, then I will lavish you with praise," can just as easily become "If you don't do what I want, then I will lavish you with ridicule." In such cases, our good-will is conditional and revocable.
Perhaps this is simply the only way most people can be motivated, but, as I mentioned above, what if we're missing something important here?
What if we could simply be content with who we are? "I'm not a professional musician, but because I love music I make music." When people accept you for who you are, there's no pressure to do anything except what you love most to do.
A runner who loves to run will run regardless if he or she is ordered or not. A writer who loves to write will write no matter what.
The crazy thing about all this is that, in many ways, Aristotle's second idea from above is often proved in practice; people who do something a lot tend to get better at it. Put simply, they improve without feeling any pressure to improve. Their daily practice becomes an expression of their contentment, rather than an achievement for the pleasing of others. The difference is subtle, but the implications are possibly enormous.
Mr. Babauta's post remains shocking to me, but perhaps that is because of how deeply the notion of self-improvement is inscribed within my social context. Yet it seems entirely possible to learn, improve, and be happy without the constant pressure to get better...or else. Regardless of your religion (or lack thereof), perhaps Luther's interpretation has something valuable for all of us; that the good life, no matter your definition, is at its heart an expression and not an achievement. Something perhaps to consider.
Happy Friday :)
Blogger Leo Babauta of ZenHabits recently wrote a thought-provoking post entitled "Quashing the Self-Improvement Urge," in which he suggests that eventually the urge to improve, "only makes you feel inadequate."
I found the entry rather puzzling, even shocking, given the culture in which we live. In my experience, there seems to be something deeply ingrained in many people which finds the idea of improvement--particularly self-improvement--highly attractive. The idea of ambition itself seems premised on the notion that the good life is spent moving from one "place" to another, accomplished usually through practice, hierarchy-navigation, and the cultivation of particular skills and attitudes conducive to one's goal-state.
When I was in high school, two types of people seemed particularly valued: those who accomplished great things, and those who worked hard to someday accomplish great things. The field of endeavor never mattered, the values remained constant. In music, the skilled musicians took the highest place, and the young, ambitious players who practiced a lot, got private-lessons, and worked hard to improve took the next. In athletics, the top athletes who scored points and won matches took first honors, and the motivated and hard-working took second. In academics, the skilled students were valued most, and the less-skilled-but-hard-workers were valued second-most. The point is that in all fields, the skilled and the motivated were valued most.
On many levels, this makes to me a great deal of sense. A music teacher can do a lot with skilled and motivated musicians, but almost nothing with the unambitious and apathetic. Skilled and motivated athletes give coaches the resources of which winning seasons--and even championships--are made. And it is the thoughtful and passionate students who make teaching a joy rather than a chore. In all cases, some combination of skill and motivation seems a prerequisite for doing anything which society deems worthwhile.
And yet I wonder, are we missing something here?
Mr. Babauta's argument against self-improvement is premised on the notion that self-improvement is goal without an end, urged on us by ourselves and others. "When does it end?" he asks. "When is anyone ever content with who they are? We are taught that we are not good enough yet, that we must improve, and so...we always feel a little inadequate."
There's something disturbingly-familiar about this line of thought that ends in constant inadequacy, and history furnishes an illustrative example. Reformation historian Carter Lindberg poignantly describes a similar adequacy-crisis within the context of pre-Reformation Christian theology, and consideration of his discussion seems warranted within the context of our question.
According to Lindberg, with regard to the achievement of salvation, a common invocation of medieval Christian theology says that one should "facere quod in se est," or "do what lies within you" (Lindberg 2006, 63). Lacking a precise measure of what exactly "lies within" people, a common answer to those who wondered if they were doing enough was simply, "try harder." So understood, salvation became an achievement for those who honestly "did their best" with what "lies within." It's no surprise that the image of a ladder so often illustrates point. The good life, under these circumstances, becomes one of moving up from an inferior position to a superior one.
Sound familiar? It may, since the logic of the theology here described closely mirrors that of Mr. Babauta's description of the modern "Self-improvement urge." In fact, Carter Lindberg even points out the congruence, saying:
"No matter what is accomplished, one may think more could have been achieved with just some more effort. Whether you are an A student or an F student you can always do more. 'Do what lies within you,' 'do the best you can.' This approach is not uniquely medieval or Aristotelian; it is equally modern, certainly American. Realize your own potential; anyone can be a success if he or she only tries hard enough; you can better yourself" (Lindberg, 68).
Within the context of medieval theology, this "urge" is premised on Aristotelian philosophy. According to Lindberg, Aristotle claimed that "like is known by like." Since God is perfect, this was taken to mean that for a person to know God (and for God to know a person), then that person "must become 'like' God" (Lindberg, 68). This task was accomplished through another Aristotelian idea, which contended that any self-improvement is the result of "habitual activity." As described by Lindberg, "Through such habits or practices ethics becomes a kind of second nature" (Lindberg, 69).
Does that too sound familiar? "Just practice," and "do your best" still ring in my ears from those confusing days in high school when nothing I could do was ever enough to satisfy my teachers, coaches, or employers. "Only through much effort and great pains are great things accomplished."
This appears to be the credo of the "self-improvement urge." Its central expectation states that with enough effort and discipline, perfection can be achieved. When it's not, "you are simply not working hard enough."
What are we moderns ever to do? If the desired end of improvement is perfection, shall we never be content with who we are? Can you and me and everyone else never be enough? Is it our lot to always feel inadequate?
Let me tell you the next part of the theology story. It's by no means the "end," traditionally understood; far from it in fact. But the next part may offer insight into the dilemma of adequacy at which we've presently arrived.
According to Lindberg, "'do what lies within you'" means that salvation is a process that occurs within us as we perfect ourselves. Put another way, we become righteous before God as we do righteous acts, as we do good works" (Lindberg, 69). When Martin Luther (1483-1546), as a young man an Augustinian monk, tried to embody this theology in his monastic practice, he very nearly killed himself through fasting and exposure. Even then, "Luther could not believe that God was placated by his efforts to do his best for his salvation" (Lindberg, 69). Faced with the implication that imperfect humans could never be saved, Luther returned to scripture and had something of an epiphany, if the expression may be used.
What did Herr Luther see? In short, he concluded that piety is not about achievement, but about expressing a kind of contentment. As described by Lindberg, Luther concluded that "We do not do good works in order to become acceptable to God; rather, because God accepts us we do good works," shifting the relationship between man and God from an "if...then" to a "because...therefore" argument (Lindberg, 70). For Luther, it was not a matter of "If I do good, then God will love me," but rather, "Because God loves me, therefore I do good."
I think a lot of relationships in our lives are premised on an if...then basis. If you work hard and show enthusiasm, then most teachers will find you a good student. If you can help a team win the match, then the coach will usually be glad to have you. A musician who's willing to work hard, learn the music, and come to class prepared is what most band directors would likely consider a model student. It seems so common, and yet it's based entirely on conditions. "If you do what I want, then I will lavish you with praise," can just as easily become "If you don't do what I want, then I will lavish you with ridicule." In such cases, our good-will is conditional and revocable.
Perhaps this is simply the only way most people can be motivated, but, as I mentioned above, what if we're missing something important here?
What if we could simply be content with who we are? "I'm not a professional musician, but because I love music I make music." When people accept you for who you are, there's no pressure to do anything except what you love most to do.
A runner who loves to run will run regardless if he or she is ordered or not. A writer who loves to write will write no matter what.
The crazy thing about all this is that, in many ways, Aristotle's second idea from above is often proved in practice; people who do something a lot tend to get better at it. Put simply, they improve without feeling any pressure to improve. Their daily practice becomes an expression of their contentment, rather than an achievement for the pleasing of others. The difference is subtle, but the implications are possibly enormous.
Mr. Babauta's post remains shocking to me, but perhaps that is because of how deeply the notion of self-improvement is inscribed within my social context. Yet it seems entirely possible to learn, improve, and be happy without the constant pressure to get better...or else. Regardless of your religion (or lack thereof), perhaps Luther's interpretation has something valuable for all of us; that the good life, no matter your definition, is at its heart an expression and not an achievement. Something perhaps to consider.
Happy Friday :)
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Is college broken, or are student's distracted?
The Economist blogger Schumpeter recently wrote a thought-provoking entry in the December 10th edition of the paper entitled University Challenge, in which the author discusses "the need" for "American universities...to be more businesslike."
The basic argument of the post is as follows. The rising cost of higher education is symptomatic of "much deeper problems: problems that were irritating during the years of affluence but which are cancerous in an age of austerity."According to Schumpeter, these problems include, "the inability to say 'no'" and what the blog terms, "Ivy-League envy." The first problem involves spending, in that many universities and colleges continuously seek to offer more (in the way of new courses, facilities, etc.) than present finances can adequately fund. The second problem--likely connected to the first--involves a deep-seated obsession for many schools to move up an "academic hierarchy, becoming a bit less like Yokel-U and a bit more like Yale." This obsession, according to the post, drives many schools toward an emphasis on research, an emphasis that leads to more scholarship than is feasibly useful, and less time spent teaching (see the entry for more details regarding this point). Within the context of this argument, Schumpeter cites Richard Arum and Josipa Roksa's book Academically Adrift (a review here from Inside Higher Ed), which contends that "over a third of America's students show no improvement in critical thinking or analytical reasoning after four years in college." The message then, according to Schumpeter, is that within an age of austerity, rising costs, coupled with student debt (topping $1trillion) and evidence of decreased learning should compel colleges and universities to "slim down, focus and embrace technology: American universities need to be more businesslike."
I will not pretend to know much about the details of what Schumpeter is discussing here. Having graduated from a liberal-arts institution about seven months ago, I have relevant experiences of contemporary college life, but not of administration and academic reform. Perhaps others more experienced and qualified will share their thoughts, for the benefit of us all.
Given all that, Schumpeter makes a number of points which warrant reflection. Student-debt is a real issue, especially when so few can earn enough to both pay off their debts and live creatively (though perhaps living creatively with debt will become a skill of which we shall see more in the coming years). Furthermore, if an obsession with research affects the quality of a professor's teaching, should colleges and universities put so much pressure on tenure-track professors to publish?
What is happening to our nation's colleges and universities? Costs and debt have certainly risen, but are students really studying less? Are they learning less, as research suggests? Does college administration put undo pressure on new professors to publish, perhaps even at the expense of their teaching?
I can't answer these questions, but I can offer some observations. First, I don't know if students today study less, but I have readily observed (and experienced) the pervasive nature of contemporary technology. For better or worse, online data-bases, key-word search options, and Google have all become potent assets of the undergraduate paper-writer.
Yet all these tools involve the Internet, where the potential for data-overload at best--and utter distraction at worse--is all too real. I can't count how many times I've observed people (myself included) multi-tasking through projects which, if we are really honest with ourselves, demands every faculty an undergraduate is likely to posess and then some, to do well. Yet if facebook updates from the most recent finals' week are any indication, many otherwise-insanely busy people still end up spending a lot of time in facebook-verse. Coupled with the "convenience" of such tools as Outlook, is it any wonder that a lot of people find writing a paper difficult? If true learning occurs when we're stretching our intellect and industry, few things seem more likely to thwart such efforts than the ever-present temptation of near-instant distraction.
Are student's learning less? I honestly don't know, but my experience suggests that those who figure out how they learn (and apply that knowledge) tend to do quite well. By this I mean people who figure out how to take useful notes, study efficiently, and have enough patience to do tedious work when necessary. These are not always the smartest folks, but they usually produce good results, and often end up smarter than everyone else anyway. If we really expect good results from everyone, however, then we might have to give them a model for how it might be done (and probably more than once).
Does faculty research interfere with teaching? This question is particularly beyond me, but my experience has been that it does not. I went to a small, liberal-arts college where many professors regularly conducted research. Their classes, however, were largely discussion-based, and their feed-back on papers was good. Most were also available during office-hours, and if you talked with them long enough, their experiences with research could prove very helpful. In short, professors conducting research can use their experiences to help students, if given the right context.
Must colleges and universities become more businesslike, as Schumpeter suggests? Perhaps yes, and perhaps not. My experience of having recently gone through the process suggest that other factors (aside from spiraling costs and "Ivy-League envy") may well be at work, particularly the potential negative aspects of technology. Computers can be so empowering, but I must admit they can be so terribly distracting as well. Helping people navigate these distractions may prove a most useful intervention for colleges and universities today. Something to consider.
Happy Thursday :)
The basic argument of the post is as follows. The rising cost of higher education is symptomatic of "much deeper problems: problems that were irritating during the years of affluence but which are cancerous in an age of austerity."According to Schumpeter, these problems include, "the inability to say 'no'" and what the blog terms, "Ivy-League envy." The first problem involves spending, in that many universities and colleges continuously seek to offer more (in the way of new courses, facilities, etc.) than present finances can adequately fund. The second problem--likely connected to the first--involves a deep-seated obsession for many schools to move up an "academic hierarchy, becoming a bit less like Yokel-U and a bit more like Yale." This obsession, according to the post, drives many schools toward an emphasis on research, an emphasis that leads to more scholarship than is feasibly useful, and less time spent teaching (see the entry for more details regarding this point). Within the context of this argument, Schumpeter cites Richard Arum and Josipa Roksa's book Academically Adrift (a review here from Inside Higher Ed), which contends that "over a third of America's students show no improvement in critical thinking or analytical reasoning after four years in college." The message then, according to Schumpeter, is that within an age of austerity, rising costs, coupled with student debt (topping $1trillion) and evidence of decreased learning should compel colleges and universities to "slim down, focus and embrace technology: American universities need to be more businesslike."
I will not pretend to know much about the details of what Schumpeter is discussing here. Having graduated from a liberal-arts institution about seven months ago, I have relevant experiences of contemporary college life, but not of administration and academic reform. Perhaps others more experienced and qualified will share their thoughts, for the benefit of us all.
Given all that, Schumpeter makes a number of points which warrant reflection. Student-debt is a real issue, especially when so few can earn enough to both pay off their debts and live creatively (though perhaps living creatively with debt will become a skill of which we shall see more in the coming years). Furthermore, if an obsession with research affects the quality of a professor's teaching, should colleges and universities put so much pressure on tenure-track professors to publish?
What is happening to our nation's colleges and universities? Costs and debt have certainly risen, but are students really studying less? Are they learning less, as research suggests? Does college administration put undo pressure on new professors to publish, perhaps even at the expense of their teaching?
I can't answer these questions, but I can offer some observations. First, I don't know if students today study less, but I have readily observed (and experienced) the pervasive nature of contemporary technology. For better or worse, online data-bases, key-word search options, and Google have all become potent assets of the undergraduate paper-writer.
Yet all these tools involve the Internet, where the potential for data-overload at best--and utter distraction at worse--is all too real. I can't count how many times I've observed people (myself included) multi-tasking through projects which, if we are really honest with ourselves, demands every faculty an undergraduate is likely to posess and then some, to do well. Yet if facebook updates from the most recent finals' week are any indication, many otherwise-insanely busy people still end up spending a lot of time in facebook-verse. Coupled with the "convenience" of such tools as Outlook, is it any wonder that a lot of people find writing a paper difficult? If true learning occurs when we're stretching our intellect and industry, few things seem more likely to thwart such efforts than the ever-present temptation of near-instant distraction.
Are student's learning less? I honestly don't know, but my experience suggests that those who figure out how they learn (and apply that knowledge) tend to do quite well. By this I mean people who figure out how to take useful notes, study efficiently, and have enough patience to do tedious work when necessary. These are not always the smartest folks, but they usually produce good results, and often end up smarter than everyone else anyway. If we really expect good results from everyone, however, then we might have to give them a model for how it might be done (and probably more than once).
Does faculty research interfere with teaching? This question is particularly beyond me, but my experience has been that it does not. I went to a small, liberal-arts college where many professors regularly conducted research. Their classes, however, were largely discussion-based, and their feed-back on papers was good. Most were also available during office-hours, and if you talked with them long enough, their experiences with research could prove very helpful. In short, professors conducting research can use their experiences to help students, if given the right context.
Must colleges and universities become more businesslike, as Schumpeter suggests? Perhaps yes, and perhaps not. My experience of having recently gone through the process suggest that other factors (aside from spiraling costs and "Ivy-League envy") may well be at work, particularly the potential negative aspects of technology. Computers can be so empowering, but I must admit they can be so terribly distracting as well. Helping people navigate these distractions may prove a most useful intervention for colleges and universities today. Something to consider.
Happy Thursday :)
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Learning Optimism
"A pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty." -Winston Churchill
In 1967, pyschologists Martin Seligman and Steven Maier made an unusual disovery while experimenting with classically-conditioned dogs. They found that dogs which had been repeatedly exposed to random, mild electric shocks proved incapable of escaping the shocks when opportunities were later presented. Interestingly, this did not prove the case with dogs which had not been previously shocked, or those which had been shocked but also given the power to stop the shocks by touching a button. In short, the dogs which experienced random, inescapable shocks proved helpless against later shocks when opportunities for escape became available. They had, according to Seligman, "learned helplessness."
Dr. Seligman later proved the existence of "learned helplessness" in humans, suggesting in his 1998 work "Learned Optimism" that a habitual, negative "explanatory style" could lead humans to feeling helpless even in the face of contrary evidence. In other words, how you regularly interpret adversity plays a strong role in shaping your ability to adapt to novel circumstances (source). In this way, Seligman contends--much like Sharon Begley, author of the the work "Train Your Mind, Change Your Brain" (summary here)--that "how you think" shapes "how you feel." Accordingly, just as it appears possible to "learn" helplessness, it is also possible, as the title of Dr. Seligman's book suggests, to "Learn[-] Optimism."
What can we learn from this? In short, that the way we "talk" with ourselves about events shapes our perceptions of how we might act (or fail to act) so to positivly affect them later. Thoughts can therefore both empower and repress that vital energy which goes into everything we do, from studying for finals to acting kindly to a stranger. So the next time you "talk" about adversity with yourself, I encourage you to consider the tone and language you use; in short, to "see the opportunity in every difficulty," rather than "the difficulty in every opportunity."
Happy Tuesday :)
In 1967, pyschologists Martin Seligman and Steven Maier made an unusual disovery while experimenting with classically-conditioned dogs. They found that dogs which had been repeatedly exposed to random, mild electric shocks proved incapable of escaping the shocks when opportunities were later presented. Interestingly, this did not prove the case with dogs which had not been previously shocked, or those which had been shocked but also given the power to stop the shocks by touching a button. In short, the dogs which experienced random, inescapable shocks proved helpless against later shocks when opportunities for escape became available. They had, according to Seligman, "learned helplessness."
Dr. Seligman later proved the existence of "learned helplessness" in humans, suggesting in his 1998 work "Learned Optimism" that a habitual, negative "explanatory style" could lead humans to feeling helpless even in the face of contrary evidence. In other words, how you regularly interpret adversity plays a strong role in shaping your ability to adapt to novel circumstances (source). In this way, Seligman contends--much like Sharon Begley, author of the the work "Train Your Mind, Change Your Brain" (summary here)--that "how you think" shapes "how you feel." Accordingly, just as it appears possible to "learn" helplessness, it is also possible, as the title of Dr. Seligman's book suggests, to "Learn[-] Optimism."
What can we learn from this? In short, that the way we "talk" with ourselves about events shapes our perceptions of how we might act (or fail to act) so to positivly affect them later. Thoughts can therefore both empower and repress that vital energy which goes into everything we do, from studying for finals to acting kindly to a stranger. So the next time you "talk" about adversity with yourself, I encourage you to consider the tone and language you use; in short, to "see the opportunity in every difficulty," rather than "the difficulty in every opportunity."
Happy Tuesday :)
Friday, December 9, 2011
"Obsessed"
I found another Zen story this morning, and thought I would share it with you. It goes something like this:
Two travelling monks reached a river where they met a young woman. Wary of the current, she asked them if they would carry her across. One of the monks hesitated, but the other quickly picked her up onto his shoulders, transported her across the water, and put her down on the other bank. She thanked him and departed.
As the monks continued on their way, the one was brooding and preoccupied. Unable to hold his silence, he spoke out. "Brother, our spiritual training teaches us to avoid any contact with women, but you picked that one up on your shoulders and carried her!"
"Brother," the second monk replied, "I sat her down on the other side, while you are still carrying her."
(Source)
So what do you think? An interesting tale?
Perhaps not, but I did. I think it captures something interesting about the way people often think.
How so? The title of the story (given by the source anyway) is "Obsessed," and the story itself highlights this feeling on several levels. On one level, the monk who broods is obsessed with following the spiritual teachings of which he's familiar. When a woman comes along and asks something of him that requires physical contact, he hesitates out of respect for his religious instruction. After all, does it not say that physical contact with women is to be avoided?
One might view this as a healthy obsession, in that the brooding monk seeks to live the ideal of the teaching to which subscribes. In short, he takes it sufficiently serious, and is not entirely swayed by the course of events. In our culture, we might say that he is strong-willed, willing to act according to what he deems as right.
Yet on another level this obsession, which makes him laudable in one way, causes him trouble in another. For while the brooding monk acts rightly according to his understanding, this same understanding makes it exceedingly difficult for him to move on from the encounter.
The dilemma is highlighted by the answer of the other monk. "Brother," he says, "I sat her down on the other side, while you are still carrying her."
What does the other monk by this mean? Perhaps, while he might have physically carried the woman across the river, the other monk carried her as well, but in his mind rather than upon his shoulders. In this way, both monks "carried" the woman, but while the one provided a helpful service, the other merely disturbed his own peace of mind. To sum up, the first embraced the spirit of the teaching and abandoned the literal, while the second embraced the literal and abandoned the spirit. In the end, the first monk helped the woman and thought no more of it, while the second did not help the woman, and could think of nothing else.
The circumstance reminds me of two quotes by very different people. The first is by a fictitious Doaist monk named Po, who says "The purpose of discipline is the live more fully, not less." The second is by an American author named Samuel Clemens, better known as Mark Twain, who says "Never let schooling get in the way of your education." Somehow, both seem appropriate in reference to the above story.
But that's just my interpretation. Stories like this speak to people in all manner of ways, and there's really no wrong way to read it. I encourage you to think on the dilemma of the second monk (and the actions of the first monk) for yourself, and explore the ideas in a wholesome way. Much luck to you as always, and of course,
Happy Friday :)
Thursday, December 8, 2011
The Creative Attitude
Introduction: Waking up
Like some writers, one of the reasons I started blogging was to help me practice writing. My formal education (particularly college) emphasized the importance of writing, but for one reason or another its promise never really found expression in my pen, pencil, or keyboard. I graduated this past May feeling something like a fraud, having passed through a process meant to transform without feeling entirely transformed. How could this happen?
Following graduation, I spent several months considering this question, all the while coming to terms with the modern reality that a college education does not lead naturally to employment (to be fair, I had at least been warned of this prospect, but a warning and an experience might as well express two separate realities. I did eventually find work, stocking milk, eggs, meat, and other things in a grocery store refrigerator). In that time, I began encountering elements of writing that I had missed while still in school; elements that not only made my writing a little more intelligible, clear, and reasoned, but also that made writing something active, engaging, and--in a word--fun.
What was this new appreciation for written expression? What was this feeling that compelled me not only to write more, but also to create things I actually enjoyed? I realized it was something I was suppose to have experienced while in school, but was too busy to notice; something that all original and interesting work requires, yet is often taken for granted. It was a "something" that can thrive in a person under some circumstances, and be totally crushed under others. In short, the thing that I had come to rediscover in the months following the end of my formal education was precisely the thing that would have benefited it most. It was creativity.
Description: What is Creativity?
Creativity, what is that? The popular author and speaker Sir Ken Robinson suggests that creativity is "the process of having original ideas that have value," which "more often than not comes about through the interaction of different disciplinary ways of seeing things." This fits closely with the way traditional psychology defines the term, emphasizing the dual elements of "originality and functionality," and is characterized by "flexible thinking," its "most basic component." So to sum up, creativity appears to be a form of thinking, which is characterized by "originality," "functionality," flexibility, and an ability to interact with multiple perspectives.
Challenges: Circumstances which Discourage Creativity
In a video of his talk linked above, Sir Ken Robinson suggests that the circumstances in which a person finds themselves play a critical role in determining how creative that person can be at a given time. Accordingly, creative thought is in-part dependent on the environment. His claim is supported by scientific studies (an example described here), which found that both time-constraints and over-scheduling negatively affect creative thinking (interestingly, in this study time-constraints could sometimes increase creativity, but only when all other distractions were removed). Such conclusions are in accord with idea that human attention has a finite capacity (about 110 bits/second), and can be overtaxed (see here and here for older entries on the subject). In sum, certain types of pressure (notably time), coupled with over-scheduling can discourage creativity, even in otherwise-creative people. Particular circumstances can both hamper and invigorate creative thought.
Cultivating Creativity
In a 2009 article entitled "The Science of Creativity" Amy Novotney discusses some of the ways research suggests creativity thinking might be fostered. The first idea discussed is from the psychologist Robert Epstein, who finds that cultivating four habits improves creativity. These areas include:
1.) Recording new ideas
2.) Taking on difficult projects
3.) Studying fields outside your expertise
4.) Being around stimulating objects, places, and people
Ms. Novotney goes on to show research of other "practices" found to cultivate creativity, including the positive role of sleep and dreams, written collaboration, natural surroundings, and happiness (yes, a 2004 study finds that "sadness inhibits new ideas." So there's no need to be a depressed artist to create something great.)
Interestingly, research from 2009 suggests that particular types of experiences can also improve creative thinking over time. An article by William Maddux and Adam Galinsky discusses research which suggests that living abroad (and not simply travelling abroad) improved test subjects' ability to solve creative puzzles. According to Galinsky, '"This shows us that there is some sort of psychological transformation that needs to occur when people are living in a foreign country in order to enhance creativity. This may happen when people adapt themselves to a new culture."' Accordingly, Maddux suggests that, '"Knowing that experiences abroad are critical for creative output makes study abroad and job assignments in other countries that much more important, especially for people and countries that put a premium on creativity and innovation to stay competitive."'
Creativity's Challenge:
As the above discussion suggests, creativity is greatly affected by one's environment and habits. Too much stress, too little rest, and too many distractions all detract from one's ability to think flexibly and view problems from a variety of perspectives. So understood, one might begin to see creativity as, in part, the ability to devise a great many ideas. There's actually a test for creativity which does just this. It's called Guilford Alternative Uses Task, and it asks examinees "to list as many uses for a common household item" as they can in a given interval of time. The more uses (as well as the "originality" and "elaboration" on those uses) a person can give, the more creative their thinking is deemed to be. Try it yourself if you like.
When you're finished, there's another side to creativity described by the above definitions. Since creative thought inherently involves new, original thinking, it can (and often does) clash with the prevailing customs, mores, and paradigms of the day. Therefore, putting creativity to use (giving it "value" or making it "functional") sometimes requires not only an ability to have ideas, but also a willingness to pursue those ideas in the face of opposition. Under such circumstances, the creative person requires something to combat the negative environment which could potentially undermine the process.
In a earlier post, I discussed the functional role that failure is increasingly understood to play in the development of a resilient character. In light of that insight, I would suggest that the "something" necessary for combating negative creative environments may be found in the willingness to fail. This is a hard willingness to foster, particularly when the environment heavily discourages it. In college, failure was often viewed as a form of exhaustion at best, and utter laziness at worse. Rarely was it ever viewed as a learning experience, or as a helpful guide for future action (for example, how not to do something next time). The result of this experience meant that many (myself included) became highly-averse to any possibility of failure. This effectively put a cap on unorthodox thinking, and rendered many ways of thinking about a problem untouchable. This was a great shame.
Conclusion: The Creative Attitude
Many times, I've experienced myself and others lament that they never have any good ideas, and wish they were more creative.
My purpose here has been to encourage you to view creativity not simply as an ability, but as a fundamental process by which new things are born. It is a process which can thrive in a healthy, stimulative environment, and which can wither in a dull, hostile environment. In both cases, however, a willingness to fail and persevere appears necessary in order to bring new, original thinking to fruition.
In short, the creative attitude is more than ideas, intelligence, and support. All three are necessary, but the very nature of creativity as an engine of originality means that a character capable of handling opposition, set-backs, and long delays may be equally necessary. So it seems, learning how to create involves learning how to fail successfully. Much luck to you in this endeavor.
Happy Thursday, friends :)
Like some writers, one of the reasons I started blogging was to help me practice writing. My formal education (particularly college) emphasized the importance of writing, but for one reason or another its promise never really found expression in my pen, pencil, or keyboard. I graduated this past May feeling something like a fraud, having passed through a process meant to transform without feeling entirely transformed. How could this happen?
Following graduation, I spent several months considering this question, all the while coming to terms with the modern reality that a college education does not lead naturally to employment (to be fair, I had at least been warned of this prospect, but a warning and an experience might as well express two separate realities. I did eventually find work, stocking milk, eggs, meat, and other things in a grocery store refrigerator). In that time, I began encountering elements of writing that I had missed while still in school; elements that not only made my writing a little more intelligible, clear, and reasoned, but also that made writing something active, engaging, and--in a word--fun.
What was this new appreciation for written expression? What was this feeling that compelled me not only to write more, but also to create things I actually enjoyed? I realized it was something I was suppose to have experienced while in school, but was too busy to notice; something that all original and interesting work requires, yet is often taken for granted. It was a "something" that can thrive in a person under some circumstances, and be totally crushed under others. In short, the thing that I had come to rediscover in the months following the end of my formal education was precisely the thing that would have benefited it most. It was creativity.
Description: What is Creativity?
Creativity, what is that? The popular author and speaker Sir Ken Robinson suggests that creativity is "the process of having original ideas that have value," which "more often than not comes about through the interaction of different disciplinary ways of seeing things." This fits closely with the way traditional psychology defines the term, emphasizing the dual elements of "originality and functionality," and is characterized by "flexible thinking," its "most basic component." So to sum up, creativity appears to be a form of thinking, which is characterized by "originality," "functionality," flexibility, and an ability to interact with multiple perspectives.
Challenges: Circumstances which Discourage Creativity
In a video of his talk linked above, Sir Ken Robinson suggests that the circumstances in which a person finds themselves play a critical role in determining how creative that person can be at a given time. Accordingly, creative thought is in-part dependent on the environment. His claim is supported by scientific studies (an example described here), which found that both time-constraints and over-scheduling negatively affect creative thinking (interestingly, in this study time-constraints could sometimes increase creativity, but only when all other distractions were removed). Such conclusions are in accord with idea that human attention has a finite capacity (about 110 bits/second), and can be overtaxed (see here and here for older entries on the subject). In sum, certain types of pressure (notably time), coupled with over-scheduling can discourage creativity, even in otherwise-creative people. Particular circumstances can both hamper and invigorate creative thought.
Cultivating Creativity
In a 2009 article entitled "The Science of Creativity" Amy Novotney discusses some of the ways research suggests creativity thinking might be fostered. The first idea discussed is from the psychologist Robert Epstein, who finds that cultivating four habits improves creativity. These areas include:
1.) Recording new ideas
2.) Taking on difficult projects
3.) Studying fields outside your expertise
4.) Being around stimulating objects, places, and people
Ms. Novotney goes on to show research of other "practices" found to cultivate creativity, including the positive role of sleep and dreams, written collaboration, natural surroundings, and happiness (yes, a 2004 study finds that "sadness inhibits new ideas." So there's no need to be a depressed artist to create something great.)
Interestingly, research from 2009 suggests that particular types of experiences can also improve creative thinking over time. An article by William Maddux and Adam Galinsky discusses research which suggests that living abroad (and not simply travelling abroad) improved test subjects' ability to solve creative puzzles. According to Galinsky, '"This shows us that there is some sort of psychological transformation that needs to occur when people are living in a foreign country in order to enhance creativity. This may happen when people adapt themselves to a new culture."' Accordingly, Maddux suggests that, '"Knowing that experiences abroad are critical for creative output makes study abroad and job assignments in other countries that much more important, especially for people and countries that put a premium on creativity and innovation to stay competitive."'
Creativity's Challenge:
As the above discussion suggests, creativity is greatly affected by one's environment and habits. Too much stress, too little rest, and too many distractions all detract from one's ability to think flexibly and view problems from a variety of perspectives. So understood, one might begin to see creativity as, in part, the ability to devise a great many ideas. There's actually a test for creativity which does just this. It's called Guilford Alternative Uses Task, and it asks examinees "to list as many uses for a common household item" as they can in a given interval of time. The more uses (as well as the "originality" and "elaboration" on those uses) a person can give, the more creative their thinking is deemed to be. Try it yourself if you like.
When you're finished, there's another side to creativity described by the above definitions. Since creative thought inherently involves new, original thinking, it can (and often does) clash with the prevailing customs, mores, and paradigms of the day. Therefore, putting creativity to use (giving it "value" or making it "functional") sometimes requires not only an ability to have ideas, but also a willingness to pursue those ideas in the face of opposition. Under such circumstances, the creative person requires something to combat the negative environment which could potentially undermine the process.
In a earlier post, I discussed the functional role that failure is increasingly understood to play in the development of a resilient character. In light of that insight, I would suggest that the "something" necessary for combating negative creative environments may be found in the willingness to fail. This is a hard willingness to foster, particularly when the environment heavily discourages it. In college, failure was often viewed as a form of exhaustion at best, and utter laziness at worse. Rarely was it ever viewed as a learning experience, or as a helpful guide for future action (for example, how not to do something next time). The result of this experience meant that many (myself included) became highly-averse to any possibility of failure. This effectively put a cap on unorthodox thinking, and rendered many ways of thinking about a problem untouchable. This was a great shame.
Conclusion: The Creative Attitude
Many times, I've experienced myself and others lament that they never have any good ideas, and wish they were more creative.
My purpose here has been to encourage you to view creativity not simply as an ability, but as a fundamental process by which new things are born. It is a process which can thrive in a healthy, stimulative environment, and which can wither in a dull, hostile environment. In both cases, however, a willingness to fail and persevere appears necessary in order to bring new, original thinking to fruition.
In short, the creative attitude is more than ideas, intelligence, and support. All three are necessary, but the very nature of creativity as an engine of originality means that a character capable of handling opposition, set-backs, and long delays may be equally necessary. So it seems, learning how to create involves learning how to fail successfully. Much luck to you in this endeavor.
Happy Thursday, friends :)
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