Spending Time

 

One of the things I have become more conscious of through a variety of sources - the move to New Home 3.0, doing a study of Essentialism, the reality of the passing of my parents, and even just reading on things as varied as sleep and e-mail - is the nature of my time and how I use it.

Time consciousness is something that we as a society seem to both cultivate and completely ignore. One the one hand, ever since the Quality and Productivity movements of the 1950's and 1960's, we have been on a quest to improve how we use our time at work.  Technology has assisted us even more in this progress:  we now track things down to the second and work to eliminate every obstacle to getting something done as efficiently and quickly as possible, whether through providing a thing "Just-In-Time" or using communication technology to communicate and inform 24/7.

On the other hand, we seem to never train ourselves in the use of time away from that structure environment.  We work productively so that we can have more time to ourselves, yet somehow manage to fill that time with things that may or may not be productive.  "Productive" is a subjective word to be sure:  what may productive to someone by relaxation (for example, sports or movies or on-line games) to me may not resonate at other activities.  Yet I suspect that all of us, were we to be honest with ourselves, would find that we are too often letting large swaths of time slip through our fingers.

I had never really thought of the idea of "spending time" before I read the quote above.  But that is really the point, is it not?  We can use time thoughtlessly or thoughtfully, by wild abandon and laziness or thoughtful planning.  Either way the time is gone; it is up to us to determine whether it was well spent.

What is the difference to me?  Simply asking the fundamental question of "How am I consciously using my time?" before I being anything.  And not just the usual things:  sleep, lunch, even writing.  "Thoughtfully" is not the same as "productively" per se; for example, I am making an effort to get the 7-9 hours of sleep a night that most adults still need.  That may be "thoughtful"; the "productive" part only comes by the benefit of that sleep.

The more I go on this journey, the more I wonder how I have managed to unconsciously go through life.

Essentialism (IX): Essence Of The Essentialist: Discern

"Most of what exists in the universe - our actions and all other forces, resources, and ideas - has little value and yields little result; on the other hand, a few things work fantastically well and have tremendous impact" - Richard Koch

Most of us of a certain age remember Boxer, the plodding and patient work horse from Orwell's book Animal Farm.  When confronted with yet more tasks, he simply says "I will work harder" - until the day, of course, Boxer simply disappears and is never spoken of again. Like Boxer, says McKeown, we have the same tendency:  when presented with even more tasks, we simply say "I will work harder".   But for anyone, especially capable people, McKeown posits the following question:  Is there a limit to the value of hard work?  Is there a point at which doing more does not produce more?

McKeown's example - an example we likely have made in different ways - came when as a young lad, he delivered papers.  He knew what he got paid and came to associate that rate (in number of papers delivered and time) with what it would buy him.  Then one day he discovered he could wash neighbors' cars for one morning instead of delivering papers for six mornings a week to get the same money but have more time.

Later, as a customer service rep, he learned the same lesson.  When asking himself "What was the most valuable result I could achieve at his job?", he realized that it was winning customers back who were going to cancel. Since non-canceled customers yielded a bonus, he "learned more, earned more, and contributed more".

Working hard, he notes is important:  "But more effort does not necessarily yield more results.  Less but better does".

Less but better may be hard for most people to adjust to - after all, rewards in the past (in the Western Economy at least) tend to track directly between doing more and more and more.  But more and more more eventually yields less and less and less.

Most people have heard of the Pareto Principle proposed by Vilifredo Pareto, where 20% of anything contributes 80% of the results (and the contrary, that 80% of anything contributes 20% of the results).    People may be less familiar with Joseph Moses Juran, an engineer and one of the fathers of the modern Quality movement, who discussed the idea of "The Vital Few" - simply put, that one can improve the quality of a product by resolving a very small fraction of the problem (In an interesting "might-have-been", he attempted to disseminate his ideas in the Post-WW II US, but they were not well received.  They were quite happily received in post-War Japan, which sky rocketed from a reputation of poorly made products to trend setters in terms of quality and technology.  Over time, we know how that story ended).

McKeown notes "Distinguishing the 'trivial many' from the 'vital few' can be applied to every kind of human endeavor large or small and has been done so by Richard Koch (see the quote above), author of several books on how to apply the Pareto Principle (80/20 Rule) to everyday life".  The example he gives is Warren Buffer, who limits his investments to a small number of thing that he understands - and then invests heavily in them.

"The overwhelming reality is:  we live in a world where almost everything is worthless and a very few things are exceptionally valuable.  As John Maxwell has written, 'You cannot overestimate the unimportance of practically everything'".

Application:

It is pretty easy for me at my place of work to identify things that are those "vital few" which truly contribute to making progress.  It is much more difficult for me to do it in my personal life.

Why?  I suppose I could argue that a personal life is much less clear than that of a work life; feelings and personal relationships make clinical decision making difficult.  But if I am truly fair, that is simply a cop out for not being willing to do the hard work of looking into things and evaluating, for each major stream or activity or relationship, what the truly "vital few" are in that thing that would significantly change the outcome.

In other words, I tend to laziness.  And Essentialism, if nothing else, is not for the lazy.

The Collapse CLXXXII: Fire

17 October 20XX+1

My Dear Lucilius:

Last night the RV Bar burned.

By all guesses (based on the fire) it was set in the evening, a convenient enough time as it both allowed the fire to grow while people were not out and would have frustrated any attempts to fight it, were any to be made.

By the time Young Xerxes and Statiera pounded on our door and alerted us, it was well aflame, orange tips rising about the housing line about a quarter of a mile away. I dressed and headed out with Young Xerxes leaving Pompeia Paulina and Statiera at The Cabin.

Likely not anything but a fire, of course. But no sense in taking risk.

By the time we got there the whole building – clad mostly in rustic looking weathered wood at one time – was engulfed. There is a large enough dirt parking lot about it that any immediate damage to structures was low; that said, there was a small group there with some visually tracking sparks as they were carried aloft.

It is seldom that I have stood close enough to a structure fire to see it in any detail. The flames whirled and swirled, flickering smoke and cinders into the sky. The interior of the building was hinted at through the holes and cracks in the outer building. Occasional cracks and crashes echoed from the outside.

It burned. And burned. And burned, late into the morning, the cracks and crashes becoming more and more frequent until large portions of the structure settled down.

We were blessed last night with an almost complete lack of wind, which at least lowered the risk of floating embers. The distance from all other structures reduced the immediate fire risk; from all that Young Xerxes heard today, there were not other fires, or at least nothing that was significant.

I took a walk with Pompeia Paulina to the site this afternoon. It was still smouldering and smoking, charred wood in shambles with bits of metal from tables and silverware and kitchen appliances peaking through. I would use the word “total loss”, but I have no idea what was in there in the first place.

Could it have been a true accident? I suppose, yes – but given the fact we have had no power for over a year and the building was abandoned this week, the chances that something just spontaneously happened seems, while not impossible, extremely low.

I do not enjoy mysteries Lucilius, especially ones that hint of things under the surface that I cannot see.

Your Obedient Servant, Seneca

2024 Turkey: Anatolian Museum of Civilization (I)

 As hopefully you have seen from these past months, Turkey is a country rich in history - in some ways, perhaps the richest in history I know of (or have certainly been to).  Its history goes back at least 12,000 years, dwarfing anything I have ever been to.  

An attempt to bring that history together is found at the Anatolian Museum of Civilization in Ankara.

The museum encompasses artifacts from all parts of Turkey:  Neolithic, Bronze/Iron Age, Phrygian, Lydian, Greek, Roman - all have representatives here.

Uratu column element, 7th Century B.C.:

Neolithic Tools and weapons:

Reconstruction of an early sedentary house, 9,000 years or so B.C.:

Cave drawings:

2024 Turkey: Atatürks Tomb (II) Changing of the Guard

The responsibility of guarding Atatürk tomb falls to the Turkish Armed Forces, a combination of the Turkish Land Forces, the Turkish Naval Forces, and the Turkish Air Forces.  Like many such national monuments, they have changing of the guard ceremonies.  We were fortunate enough to be there for one.

On Packaging Waste

 One of the rather interesting perspectives one gets as one travels across several countries in a short time is how waste is handled.

I know; it is a pretty obscure subject.  The thing that brought it to mind was coming home and being subjected to how the U.S. does it.

In Japan, at least where we were, items are separated into cans, plastic bottles/PET, and burnable trash.  In Europe, it was cans, Plastic/Pet, Paper, and "other".  In the U.S., it is separated into cans/bottles, generic "recyclables", and non-recyclable waste.

I suppose that it is of interest to me because we (of the Industrial and Post-Industrial revolution) are the first human civilization that has to meaningfully deal with this.

Plastic, of course, is probably the biggest difference. I did not think about plastic in great detail until a visit some years ago to Colonial Williamsburg.  There, the living historian in the leather shop pointed out that until the 20th century, leather served the purposes that plastic now does: it was available, readily malleable, and could be used for a variety of purposes (arguably, wood filled different niches but the same function).  The difference between us and them, of course, is that leather and wood are biodegradable.  Plastic, not so much.

When I purchase any typical item anymore, I have to go through at least one, possibly two, and maybe three levels of packaging to get the item.  That packaging has no inherent value after its initial use except in some odd situations, like building a cardboard fort or saving packing paper to use for rabbit cage lining.  That becomes even more pronounced in the food industry or my own industry of biopharmaceuticals, where we not only want the material packaged, we would prefer the packaging to protect the food from adverse substances or the materials used to make drugs to be sterile.

It interests me because, for all of the cry of "too much packaging" (and there is quite a lot), we have yet to strike the balance of what needs and does not need packaging.  Does my furniture from IKEA? No, probably - unless I want undamaged furniture when I get it.  Does my food need it?  Yes, probably - think of the issue of fruits and vegetables handled by everyone put to the extreme of every food.

I can cut down on the packaging I try to use, but every time I order something or purchase something - especially online - it will more often than not come in packaging that is oversized for the product.

Now, add to that all the money to manufacture the packaging - to make it from new or recycled materials, to form it, to label or mark it, to ship it to where it needs to be used, and then to dispose of it - and I suspect we are starting to talk about significant numbers.

Is there a solution?  I am not sure.  But it certainly seems like an area ripe for some kind of innovative thinking.

A Year Of Humility (IX): A Job Application

 Recently I applied for a higher level position at my current company.

I was notified that it was coming and "encouraged" to apply (if I read my personal interaction cards right).  I went through the process like anyone else - updated CV, Letter of Interest - and off it wandered into the world of computer applications (on the bright side, at least I know it will not get washed out in the initial pass).

At the time of this writing, the outcome is unknown - but there are only three possible ones.  The first is that I get the job.  The second is that someone else in my department gets the job.  The third is that someone from outside our department or the company gets the job.

Of the options, the first is and third are relatively easy to understand and follow up with - the first for sure of course (who am I to complain about me getting a promotion) and the third (someone undoubtedly brought in for greater experience and/or specialized expertise).  But the second - someone else - is the part of today's meditation because it brings up the following question: How do I serve in a current position when I have been passed over internally?

Before you dismiss it as a simple question, I urge you to think back to your own career - to yourself, or someone that you had worked with whom applied to an internal position.  You can remember the angst and concern as they went through the process - and often, the burning blow they felt when they were "rejected" for someone else.

There are one of two reactions we can have in such situations.  The first is the reaction of being embittered, of being angry, of constantly arguing about the person ("X had all the ins") or the process ("They never really considered me") or the company ("They have no intent on moving people like me [whatever "me" is] up the ladder").  The difficulty here - beyond just the initial reaction - is the fact that this attitude bleeds itself into every aspect of work, given time.  I have almost never seen an employee who felt they were (legitimately or illegitimately) passed over not become somehow embittered over time.

The second reaction is that of humility.

It is certain that one cannot always know all of the factors that go into a hire (having been a hiring manager and having been on multiple hiring teams, there are a great many things that make up a hiring choice).  And while I like to believe that teams get it right for the right reasons, that is not always the case - nor should it matter.

It goes back to that somewhat nagging line in Philippians 2:3-4:  "Do nothing from selfishness or conceit, but in humility of mind count others better than yourselves.  Let of each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others." (RSV).  "Nothing" there simply means "nothing" - Not one thing.

What are the interests of others here?  That I do my job competently and joyfully (or at least with as much joy as I can muster).  That I do not hold back one thing that I was doing before I had applied to after the decision.  That I work for my new manager just as hard as I worked for my previous one (who will still be around).  That I do my best to make my new manager look just as good as I did my previous one.

Ultimately, that there is no interruption in the work no matter who is managing me or what position I have or do not have.

It is easy enough to say that for a single position.  It becomes endlessly more difficult when one puts aside the idea that one may never move forward in this job.  And then extrapolate it to every position or role we play in our lives.

Modern society only, ever, has us on an upward track.  Humility says something far different:  "It matters not what you are or what you are doing or even whether the situation gets better or more agreeable.  Humbly work and serve as if God Himself were your employer or manager."

Which ultimately, of course, He really is.

On Electronic Books

 As you might recall, last month I acquired a library card from my local county library, something that I had not owned for some years.  And while I physically checked out a couple of books, the equally interesting benefit to me was the fact that I could get books electronically and read them on my phone.

The interface was surprisingly better than I had thought it would be on my phone: the book was readable and in some cases were far more readily accessible than waiting for the hard copy to arrive and at least in one case, was the only copy that existed.  And so I have experimented with reading books on my phone as an alternative form of reading.

That said, having completed what is the initial "trial run", it is not something I think I will do on a regular basis.

The problem is not really with the actual technology - it is easy enough to use and the book downloads on your phone quite readily and is thus available anywhere.  The real issue was pushed to my mind during a read of Cal Newport's book A World Without E-mail, a bit ironically about how e-mail has made us less communicative, not more.  What I realized, as I held my phone in my hand and read it, is that while I was reading, what I was really doing was training myself to spend more time on my phone.

If anything, I already spend too much time in front of screens. Between work, writing, and the inevitable "just checking" things on my phone, I could easily argue that half of my day is spent looking at a screen of some kind.  That strikes me as not being good for a lot of things:  my ability to concentrate, my vision, even my sleep patterns.

More importantly perhaps, it disrupts my ability to concentrate.

When reading a physical book one has to concentrate on the book - primarily of course because it is contained in one's hands. It is not easy to just "flick over" to e-mail or social media or a bank account; one has to put down the book and go to the next task.  This is true of any physical activity of course:  it is the thing that we are doing and cannot be easily turned away from without stopping the activity entirely.

Reading a book on my phone simply enforces my bad habits of multi-tasking, which themselves are exercises in failure.  It also reinforces the idea that I can split my attention between things and somehow maintain the same level of concentration.

I have three books currently to read and one in waiting.  After that, I believe I will be returning to the "old-fashioned" theory of the physical book on a more frequent basis.  It may not be as convenient, but convenience is not really a thing I need at the moment.  Focus, concentration, and engagement are.

Essentialism (VIII): Essence Of The Essentialist: Choose

McKeown starts this section of the book with a story.

He found himself - at some point years before in his graduate career - at an unexpected crossroads.  Enrolled in law school, he found that he was not really engaged in it.  He was going through the motions, but it did not engage him in any way - it was a "safe" option he was told, that gave him other options upon graduating.

Traveling to the U.S. for a friend's wedding, he found himself stunned by a conversation with a non-profit executive, who made the passing statement "If you decide to stay in America, you should come and join us on the consultation committee."

This comment stuck in McKeown's brain.  It stuck because, as McKeown relates, "he (the executive) saw the choice (to stay) as a real option".  This in turn got him to thinking, which led to him writing out the question "If you could do only one thing with your life right now, what would it be?" Upon finishing, he noted that "law school" appeared nowhere on the paper.

A few weeks later, he quit law school and moved to the US to pursue writing and teaching.

Often, says McKeown, we think of choice as a thing.  But choice, he points out, is an action.  It is a thing we do:  "This experience brought me to the liberating realization that while we may not always have control over our options, we always have control over how we choose among them."

But he - and we - often feel conflicted. "I cannot do this" we say, "but have to do that".  And so, day by day, bit by bit, we give up our power to choose, until all our choices become dictated by something or someone else.

"For too long we have overemphasized the external aspect of choices (our options) and underemphasized our internal ability to choose (our actions).  Options are things which can be taken away, but our ability to choose (free will) cannot."

So how do we lose our ability to choose?

McKeown relates an experiment by Martin Seligman and Steve Maier, which demonstrated that the phenomena of "learned helplessness" exists.  In short, it could be demonstrated that when the power of our ability to affect our environment is lost or forgotten, we simply learn to accept whatever comes our way.  We feel we have no choice in the matter.

How does this manifest itself?

"When people believe that their efforts at work don't matter, they tend to respond in one of two ways.  Sometimes they check out and stop trying, like the mathematically challenged child.  The other response is less obvious at first.  They do the opposite.  They become hyperactive.  The accept every opportunity presented.  They throw themselves into every assignment.  The tackle every challenge with gusto...These people don't believe they have a choice in what opportunity, assignment, or challenged to take on.  They believe they "have to do it all".

Choices, points out McKeown, are hard - especially in a world where there are so many.  But the Essentialist not only remembers they can choose, they cultivate a heightened sense of their ability to choose.

The alternative?  "When we forget our ability to choose, we learn to be helpless.  Drip by drip we allow our power to be taken away until we end up becoming a function of other people's choices.  In turn, we surrender our power to choose.  That is the path of the Nonessentialist."

The Essentialist, says McKeown, celebrates the power of choice, knowing that when the right to choose is surrendered, it "gives not only the power but explicit permission to choose for us."

Application:

The lesson of learned helpless, especially in the work environment, was an eerie reflection of how I approach every job I have had for the last 15 years at least:  I feel like I have to do everything.  It is often, more often than I care to admit, true of the rest of my life as well.  Too often I feel I have no choice, when in point of fact I have simply surrendered any power of choice to everyone else.

"Options are things.  Choice is an action."  That struck me as a powerful thought.  A choice is not just a thing.  Things can be taken away.  But one should never lose one's free will.  Perhaps in this sense, Essentialism is not only teaching ourselves to focus on the important things, it is training us in the exercise (and preservation) of our own free will. 

The Collapse CLXXXI: After Judgment

15 October 20XX +1

My Dear Lucilius:

Cataline, his wife, and indeed all of the trailer park inhabitants are gone.

The day after the trial was, as you might imagine, a bit tense. I half expected some kind of event to occur. You know, the old “stone through the window” or “shot through the window” or even “shot through my head” scenario. None of that manifested, of course – partially, as it turns out, due to a watch set by Xerxes and The Colonel to make sure nothing of that nature occurred (and without my knowledge, of course).

I followed up by going to the trailer park. Here, too, a guard had been set, both by Young Xerxes and the inhabitants themselves. I passed through the guard without incident, receiving a series of head nods on the way. I saw neither Cataline nor his wife; another of the inhabitants brought me a bag with what I was assured were all the items remaining from Terentia’s husband. I did not bother to open the bag; likely any arguments at this point could neither be proven one way or the other nor could they results in anything good.

Armed with the bag in one hand and the wheat in a bucket – older wheat from my stores set aside long ago – and with guards yet again, I walked to the other side of town.

I was met far before the house by The Fashionable Woman and a group which I could only assume were relatives and friends of Terentia. The looks were hard – but not so hard that they did not take both the bag and the bucket and stalk off.

The rest of the day passed in relative obscurity and silence. Once again, Pompeia Paulina and I made calculations with the loss of the wheat. We were still fine, she assured me; there were still supplies at the house of Statiera and Young Xerxes which we could use. We would be tight, but fine – I had better increase my appreciation of gruel as it was going to become more common.

The next morning when I awoke and started to go out to check the greenhouse, a note fell out of the door where it had been thrust. It was simply addressed to “The Judge”.

The handwriting was of a quality that I had not seen in long years, the sort of thing that makes one long for the days when penmanship was an art and an indicator of an individual. It was written by Cataline’s wife, thanking me for a judgment that was as fair as it could have been.

They were leaving, the note said. Even with my admonition that the matter was “settled” they believed – probably rightly – that the matter was very much not settled. And so, that night, they were taking the last precious fuel they had saved and they – the entire encampment and even the owners – where heading six miles up the road to Kentucky City.

They had been extended an offer from The Colonel, it seemed. He did not particularly care about backgrounds; what he passionately cared about were live bodies to help with food gathering and with defense. He had places for all of them; they needed only come.

Out of curiosity, later that day I went to the RV park. Sure enough, there was no-one there, only a series of spaces where the RVs had been. Even the main building, with its bar and restaurant, looked darker and colder than usual. “Closed for Good” said the sign on the door. I did not bother to go in; I assumed that anything of value had gone with them.

On the one hand Lucilius, this indirectly solves a great many problems. There can be no feud where there is no-one to feud with. And while the aggrieved party of Terentia could be offended, they took the settlement without argument.

On the other hand, we are now down another 20% of the inhabitants of this small burg. And beyond that, the burg itself is slowly separating into two halves, with most people on one side and a few people – ourselves included – on the other. Kentucky City has grown at our expense.

It was Young Xerxes, later that day, that let me know from the little he had heard, the general opinion was that the judgment was the best that could be done, given the circumstances. And no-one he had heard from seemed to support any kind of movement against Cataline – or indeed, me. No-one could say I had not been willing to put my money where my judgment was.

Which, to be fair, was the whole point.

Your Obedient Servant, Seneca

Gone Traveling 2025: Cambodia And Vietnam

 Dear Friends:

As you are reading this, I am likely in the air with The Ravishing Mrs. TB on my way to Southeast Asia.

I know what you are thinking:  "TB, where you not somewhere else in the world not two weeks ago?"  Technically that is correct and believe me, I had not intended on traveling so much in February when this trip originally came up over a year ago.  The difficulty with these sorts of trips is that once you put the money down, you lose it if you do not go.

And so, we are going - even though by my count, for this month of February I will have spent less time in the United States than out of it.

The flight there, if you are wondering, is a little long:  1 hour from New Home 2.0 to the US departure point,  17.5 hours to Singapore, and then 2.5 hours from Singapore to Phnom Penh in Cambodia (yes, we end up completely losing the 27th of February).  The flight back is marginally better:  4 hours from Hanoi to Seoul (South Korea), 10.5 hours from Seoul to the U.S., and then another 1 hour flight from port of entry to New Home 2.0.

We will have a total of 4 days in Cambodia and 10 days in Vietnam.

(Source)

(Source)

What do I expect? I have almost no idea.  This area is one that I am almost completely unfamiliar with with the exception of The Vietnam War and The Khmer Rouge (vaguely).  I have read a short history of each country and there seems to be a lot more there to explore (especially history).

As is now the custom, I have left a series of posts in my absence and once again beg your ever kind generosity in the delay in responses - while not quite as far ahead as in Japan, it is almost as much.

I remain Your Obedient (and apparently increasingly Far Traveled) Servant,

Toirdhealbheach Beucail

2024 Turkey: Atatürk’s Tomb (I)

Mustafa Kemal Atatürk occupies a rather complicated position in Turkey, at least to an outsider like me.

Born under the Ottoman Regime and originally known as Mustafa Kemal, he was a member of the movement known as The Young Turks.  A war hero due to his leadership in the Gallipoli Campaign (1915), he became a leader in the post-war movement (known as the Turkish War of Independence, 1919-1923) which ultimately saw the end of the Ottoman Sultanate and Caliphate and the establishment of the Turkish Republic in 1923.

His sobriquet, "Atatürk", means "Father of the Turks".  It is largely (or at least perceived largely) through his efforts that the modern Turkish state was established.  Beyond the winning of Independence, it was through his leadership that the State of Turkey became both a republic with elections (as opposed to the Ottoman Rulers) and secular (with the total secularization of society; as you might recall, it was due to him that the Derivsh order was - and is - outlawed in Turkey).  He moved from the Arabic Script to the Latin alphabet, established full equality of the sexes including voting rights, required the adoption of Turkish surnames both on those that never had them and those that were not Turkish in origin, and initiated a series of industrial and economic reforms to bring Turkey into the modern industrial age.

By the time of his death in 1938, the Turkish Republic was firmly established as a modern, secular state (although over 90% of Turkey remains Muslim).

After his death in 1938, he was honored with a state funeral.  This mausoleum, Anıtkabir, was completed in 1953 after 9 years of construction.  Using all local materials, it mixes images of the various civilizations that have inhabited Anatolia.

Security into the Mausoleum is a bit beyond what we as Americans are used to - not so much the now-ubiquitous metal scanner as much as the fact that no national or religious symbols are allowed to be displayed - beyond the Turkish Flag of course; Anıtkabir is apparently well known as focal point of protest by display of flags by the Turkish People.

Atatürk is a bit of a puzzle for an American like myself.  He is a combination of multiple founding fathers and national leaders in a single person.  His image is everywhere - in schools, in hotels, on banners.  In that sense there is almost something a bit "Big Brotherish" about him.  From what I heard, at least from our tour guide, it is not seen this way by the Turks themselves.

Beyond the mausoleum itself, there are two wings which hold a history of Atatürk as well as a history of the Turkish War of Independence.  As you might imagine from any such sort of display, there is a particular point of view.

The tomb of Atatürk. The actual sarcophagus is located on the floor below:

The inscription in the tomb.  It reads:

"To The Great Turkish Nation

The mortal body of the Great Atatürk has been taken to his place of rest on elaborate arms of his beloved nation to the service of which he devoted himself.

In fact, he rests on the heroic and loyal chest of the Turkish nation full of love and pride for him.

The incomparable hero Atatürk, the founder of our state, and the most loyal, faithful servant of our nation,  the lover and distinguished figure of the ideal of mankind, the fatherland is greatly indebted to you.

We bow with reverence in your presence together with the Turkish nation to the service of which you devoted yourself.

You rendered us vigour from the fire in your soul in your whole life.  Rest assured that your blessed memory will always keep our souls zealous and vigilant, as an ever-flaming torch.

21 November 1938"

A Brief Stop At The Ranch, February 2025

I spent most of Saturday at The Ranch.

Visits have continued to get longer between times and shorter times while there.  Part of this is due to the fact that life simply gets busier and it is harder to get away.  Part of it is that I am a slave to the airline schedule, which sometimes is with me and sometimes against me - regardless, I scarcely get more than 36 hours total on the ground.

This visit - after giving Uisdean Ruadh a hand with moving the last bits out of his storage locker along with The Director, a lunch with the both of them, checking in with The Cowboy and The Young Cowboy, and dinner with family - was a mere 26 hours from arrival to departure.  That left enough for a quick swing of the house and cleaning the toilets (my number one visiting task).

Am I sad that I am not spending as much time there?  I am not sure I can even answer that question.  On the one hand yes, it is still as beautiful as ever.  On the other hand, 30 hours is scarcely enough to think about any one location for any length of time.

The timing is not likely to change, at least not for the foreseeable future:  my current job is very much an on site, 5 day a week sort of thing.  Occasionally I could probably work remotely - people do - but even then with the ending of InterWeb access there, I could not work from there if I wanted to. 

So I do what I can.

It is a little jarring to go from 1 week a month somewhere for the last four years to a day (more or less) every month to two months.  But that is reality now.

Life changes.  And we do the best we can.

A Year Of Humility (VIII): Humility Towards All

I suspect that one of the things that often confuses me about humility is that I struggle to realize that humility is a thing to be practiced in every one of my relationships.

Too often I suspect that I have sought to "show" humility in one of two directions.  The first is being humble towards God - something that clearly Scripture clearly speaks to multiple times.  The second is being humble towards other people, which seems to create a sort of underlying resentment in my life.

Underlying resentment?  I wonder, as I think through it, if it is caused by something as humanly silly as I do not want to be humble "in all directions".

I think I would argue that I, and most Christians have no problem being humble before God (at least in theory).  Even the most lackluster of theologians gets the great distance between the Creator and the created, and in our minds we can somehow justify that we should "humble" ourselves before the Someone that is greater.

At least for me, humbling myself before others - not infrequently, but rather on a daily basis - seems, frankly, like an inconvenience that has been put on me.

Sure, if I manage to claw my way through my own pride and towering self confidence, I can "generously" see my way clear to being humble in the presence of those that are more educated or know more than I.  But being humble to everyone?  That often seems like a bridge too far.

And yet, I wonder if God's true measure of our humility is how humble we are to the lowliest person in our lives.

It is easy to be humble to someone we consider our superior in some form or fashion, and most can rally the effort to humble themselves (at times) to those whom they consider their equals.  But to those who in some way are "below" us?  Those who have nothing to offer us? Those who clearly struggle through things that we hardly think about it?  How often I struggle to be humble towards those folks as well.

But the command to be humble is not a ranked one in Scripture; it is not as if God said "Be humble to this group - but no need to worry about these folks over here.  Them, you can just act as you please."  No, He simply said "Be humble".  The implication, of course is, "to everyone".

I wonder what my life would look like if, for one week, I made a significant effort to truly humble myself towards every person that came into my life.

I suspect it, like many things, would be an example of the saying by G.K. Chesterton that "The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting.  It has been found difficult; and left untried."

New Home 2.0: The Final Arrival

 In the midst of last week - Thursday, to be precise - The Ravishing Mrs. TB made her "final" arrival in New Home 2.0

I say "Final" as this was the final relocation, as paid for by my company, the last of the relocation benefits (excluding her job search benefits, of course):  a paid flight with two covered pieces of luggage and a meal voucher to boot.  The suitcases were filled with clothes and non-perishables from the store of Produce (A)Isle; the meal voucher was used for a belated Valentine's Day Dinner.

Final arrival, of course, is still a sliding scale thing; there are still a number of trips planned between now and June, including one to pick up her car and get it here.  But the final packing of the house in New Home is done, the repairs made.  It is a place where we may own a house and even visit, but we no longer live.

It strikes me that this has been one of the longest "relocations" I can think of as this is approximately 11 months after I officially moved here. On the whole that is a thing to be thankful for; I cannot imagine having to do everything we have done in the very short period of time that most people get.  And while the period of time may have not been ideal - I suppose in that sense I am lucky that I am pretty good at effectively living on my own - it did enable The Ravishing Mrs. TB to tie up a number of loose ends in a way that a shorter period of time might not have.

Thankfully, that is all done.  And now, we are here.

Essentialism (VII): Essence Of The Essentialist

To understand Essentialism, suggests McKeown, is to understand that it is not merely a way of doing one thing differently, but that it is a different way to do everything.  But it is not a neutral challenge, he suggests:  there are certain ideas and those that support those ideas that present Nonessentialism as logical.

The assumptions of the Nonessentialist?

1)  "I have to."

2)  "It's all important."

3)  "I can do both."

These are seductive, because they appeal to the way that most of us have come to believe the world works.

In contrast, the Essentialist requires that these three assumptions be replaced with the three core truths of Essentialism:

1)  "I choose to." (Choose)

2)  "Only a few things really matter." (Discern)

3) "I can do anything but everything." (Trade Off)

As we accept these truths, suggests McKeown, we can pursue what really matters and be enabled us to live in order to give our highest contribution.  As we do this more and more, the way of Essentialism becomes "natural and instinctive" - a thing we are, not a thing we do.

The Collapse CLXXX: Judgment

13 October 20XX+1

My Dear Lucilius:

For reasons unknown to anyone but God, the sunrise was gloriously clear and cloud free this morning. Perfect weather for everyone to be able to make a trip into town for a judgment.

I can seldom think of a time that a breakfast has been less welcome to me. Pompeia Paulina did her best to dress it up with huckleberries in the oatmeal and even a precious cup of coffee (which was, to be fair delicious – how I miss the stuff), but darkness of the day overhung the meal.

I dressed in a formality I had likely not dressed in for over a decade; if I was to render a judgment, best to look as good as I could. Besides, after I rendered judgment, who knew what would happen after that.

It is best to dress for any occasion, even your own funeral.

Young Xerxes was there with his escort, seemingly beefed up from the previous two days before. The weapons were readily apparent this time, with no hint of hiding or concealing them. They made the walk from The Cabin to the makeshift courtroom as much ceremonial as they did protective.

The courtroom was packed, even more so than the previous two days. This was a big doing, likely the biggest in some time and I would swear to you that even outlying farms and ranches had sent a representative to watch. Not surprising I suppose; what happened here – like it or not – would define what we understood justice to be for the coming time.

The courtroom was packed with more guards as well – and to my surprise, I saw The Colonel and The Leftenant and Ox and half a dozen I knew by face only. How Young Xerxes had managed to pull this off was beyond me (although he did wear a smug smile when he realized I had seen them).

A great many things might happen just now. But wholesale murder now seemed much less likely.

“All Rise for the Honourable Judge Seneca” boomed Ox in a voice that defied restraint, pulling people out of their seats by its sheer force and rumble. They stood, all of them – the crowd in the back, Terentia and The Fashionable Woman and Cataline and The Advocate in front, as I passed with Pompeia Paulina on one side and Young Xerxes on the other – through them to the chair and table that served as my bench. Pompeia Paulina gave my hand a squeeze as she peeled off to her chair while Young Xerxes came behind me.

The gavel dropped twice. “Be seated” I spoke in a word almost two thirds less the volume of Ox.

The alacrity with which everyone dropped into their seat alarmed me.

“We are here today” I started “to determine the judgment of Cataline, accused of murder. I remind both sides that it was agreed to that this would be the format and venue agreeable to both; the expectation is that this judgment stands. To be clear, given the circumstances there is no appeal, no second judgment, no further actions. And certainly” I said, looking carefully from one side to the other, “no retribution”.

I shifted a bit in my seat – formal clothes, while looking nice, were never quite as comfortable as jeans. “I will start with the facts of the case. There was a killing. Cataline confesses to it. However, the facts reveal is that the killing was done in response to prevent a killing, that of Cataline by husband of Terentia. Had that happened, we would still be here to discuss a killing. Which seemingly is a problem in and of itself: no matter what, there apparently would have been a death.

We hold that a person has the right to protect themselves from act of being killed – Good Heavens, four months ago people in this room, myself included, walked out to prevent this very thing by people who were quite intent on stealing our things and taking our lives. No-one protested this, no-one said this was wrong. The intent to kill then by those that invaded was quite clear.

And in this case, the need to defend was not even the fault of the defendant: the intent to kill him – by Terentia’s husband – was to cover a self perceived loose end, a link to an self-embarrassing episode that was rooted in his own power and evil deeds. If an invader were to force us to surrender food or body for survival we would be offended and angry; it is even worse when it is done by one’s neighbor simply because that neighbor has the power to do so.”

I shifted again in my seat. “And yet, we have the fact of a death and the fact that now, every death has impact. Terentia’s husband, no matter his moral stature” – here I got an angry look from Terentia – “had value as a contributing member of this town, this social unit. His family has suffered a loss – ultimately self-inflicted by him, but impacting them as well.”

I sat up, ramrod straight. This was the moment I had been both dreading and preparing for.

“It is my judgment that in the case of the killing of Terentia’s husband by Cataline, it is determined to be self defense and there will be no further punishment. It is clear the man is punished enough by himself, and I cannot overlook the facts that brought him to the defense of his own life and that of his wife. I have never rewarded the exercise of power of the strong over the weak before and will not do so now.” The sob from the room could have only come from Cataline’s wife.

“But I recognize there is harm in the loss of Terentia’s husband” I continued. “It is therefore my judgment that beyond returning any and all goods that they may have given to them by Terentia’s husband, there be a payment on the value of his life. Given the circumstances that we live in and the acknowledged reason for the initial “gifts” given by Terentia’s husband was food, the assessment is 5 lbs of wheat.”

I slightly cleared my throat. “As the defendant likely cannot offer up this payment, I offer it up in his stead.” With that, I slammed the gavel down.

The room froze for a moment, then erupted into noise.

I cannot clearly tell you what happened next. The noise – angry shouting, the sound of Terentia’s voice rising above all – was in my ears. My view as blocked by Young Xerxes and a cordon of guards he had thrown around me as soon as the gavel hit. I tried to get up but he pushed me back in my chair. The circle only parted to allow Pompeia Paulina in, who simply grabbed my hand and hugged me in place.

I had, obviously, not discussed any of this with her. “It will be fine” she said in my ear in a voice that was strangely audible despite the shouting. “We can make do”.

By the time I was finally allowed to stand up, the courtroom had largely cleared. The Colonel and The Leftenant were gone along with the faces I had recognized – “to escort Cataline home” as Ox told me. Terentia and The Fashionable Woman were gone, having apparently stormed off. A few stragglers were there, perhaps hoping for some kind of last minute climax which was not to come.

I started to leave, then picked up the gavel and took it with me. Likely given this experience, no-one was going to ever ask me to adjudicate anything again, but one never knows.

I must confess, Lucilius, that the walk home was far different than I expected. I had thought I would be weighed down with sorrow. Instead, I felt a certain lightness in my soul. I had done the best I could, given the circumstances.

That is all that can really be asked of us.

Your Obedient Servant, Seneca

2024 Turkey: Food Catch-Up

 I will be honest that - especially with my more recent travel - I had not really thought about the role that cuisine plays in my travels.  But in every trip, even in my most recent ones to Japan and Europe, I find that I am taking a picture at almost every meal.  Whether it is because of the novelty or the true differences I find (probably both), the food (and the pictures) have become a strong part of my memories.

As I mentioned before, most of the places we ate were buffets connected with the hotels we stopped at. On the whole they quite good (I cannot think of one that was not) and almost every one featured local specialties.

Dinner, with the ever present baklava:

Breakfast.  I have to admit greens and cheese was very easy to adjust to:

Cheesy mushrooms (it sounds better in Turkish):

More desserts:

I am guessing breakfast based on the coffee?

Gummy bears in Turkish.  A universal food.

Lunch:

2024 Turkey: From Kapadokya to Ankara

 After our time in Kapadokya (the second longest place we "stayed" after Istanbul), it was time to head out to our next destination, Ankara.  

A final rest stop with what I have come to associate with typical Kapadokyan rocks and views:

Once we left the region, the area turned to the flat plains surrounded by mountains we had seen on our trip to Kapadokya:

Not many scenic stops, but plenty of great scenery.