Out Of My Character

 Yesterday I had the annoying incident of forgetting which day it was when I woke up.

There is nothing quite as annoying as not hearing an alarm you expected to go off sound, so you rush out of bed (trying to be quiet of course) and get out of the bedroom, only to realize it was one of your days off and you did not have to wake up for at least another hour.

On the one hand, of course, it speaks to a pretty well developed internal alarm that has one waking up with two minutes of the normal Monday - Friday wake up call. On the other hand, it does not say a great deal about one's life where one is (apparently) only used to a single day not working.

It is out of character.  And I do not like things that are out of character.

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I am, if nothing else, a creature of schedule and habit.  My morning schedule - at least the weekday one - has been the same for probably 10 years or more.  And my work habits in the morning are entirely predictable: arrive, get my 18 ounces of carbonated water from the machine, make my two 8 ounce pulls of decaffeinated coffee, put my lunch in the refrigerator, and make my morning rounds of my direct reports before I go down to prepare for the 0830 Monday-Friday morning meeting.

Evenings are much less predictable (to my endless frustration), but will include some combination of Iaijutsu, reading, writing, language, and rabbit time.  And some manner of eating dinner (which is far less formal and prepared when I am on my own).

Even weekends are more or less moderated, at least in the morning.  Until, apparently, they are not.

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Another incident that happened this weekend - again, to my surprise - was that I got uncharacteristically angry.

The context was the sort of discussion I do not usually have (a political/policy one). The tone was not angry - but internally, I was rather shocked to find how aggravated I felt about the event.  Even a day later, my almost visceral and immediate reaction was not like how I like to believe myself to be.

Out of character, one might say.

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"Out of character", in the strictest sense, in my mind harkens back to my brief high school foray into drama.  To be "out of character" was for the actor or actress to step out of the role that they were playing and become themselves to the audience - in a way, the breaking of the third.  The character of the drama is set aside, the "true" person emerges, if only for a moment.

It strikes me that this could be something as simple as a series of travel weekends and busy-ness at work and a rather pronounced lack of sleep over the last week.  Maybe.

Or maybe not.

---

I feel like I am on the crust of something that is looming beneath the surface - ultimately, I think, for good, although the process of getting through it feels terrifying.  If I am fair to myself, I can make the point that this has been the sort of year (or a little over) that stretches one in ways that I have not had to deal with in the previous twenty.  It feels, almost, like a chrysalis or cocoon that I am in is about to break open, with unknown results:  sometimes you get a butterfly, sometimes you get a cicada.

There is a sense that I have been coasting on a manner of living and way of being for something like 15 to 20 years, a manner and way that is slowly ending both due to inertia as well as the fact that in some manner or fashion, some or much of that no longer "fits".

I am not a joyful creature of change.  And yet, I find myself being pushed more and more to the edge of my comfort zone, to the point that I sometimes feel like I will "fall off"  - to what end, I do not know.

I am hopeful that, no matter what, it will at least allow me to not panic about missed alarms at 0500.  But perhaps that, too, is part of my character, or the character to come.

A Year Of Humility (XXIV): Words

 One of the things that coming up (effectively) from the individual contributor level to a managerial level creates, for better or worse, is the ability to see both sides of any work related equation.  This struck me in spades this past week in an issues meeting.

The nature of meeting itself is not important (and, sadly, falls into the "confidential work category" that I cannot discuss).  What I can discuss, and what is the outcome of the meeting, was the very clear and distinct line between those that were directly involved in the problem and those that were not.

Those that were involved had created a presentation describing the problem and the potential solutions. Those that were not are in theory to review the issues, make suggestions, and endorse a course of action.  At the end of meeting an action plan was endorsed - but the way that those who presented left feeling the meeting was hardly the sort of thing that any leader would have called a victory.

Why?  There was a very clear split in the meeting between people that did not have to deal with the problem and their proposed solutions and questions and those who were on the proverbial front lines that had to deal with the problem.  For one group is was a theoretical concept to be argued and picked apart; to the other, it was a problem that they needed a real solution to and were given anything but that until right at the end.

In the end, those involved left angry and hurt, feeling very much unheard and their work unappreciated.

---

It probably feels like a bit of a stretch to link a work meeting to humility. And yet I have to ask myself, how often do I or have I considered how my words land on others?

Having been at one point in what one could only laughable call "executive management", I am well aware that having a position can impact how people hear your words.  Items I thought were ideas became requests. Anytime I asked for something, someone would immediately do it, even at the cost of the work that they were currently working on.

And I remember the other side as well, where a request was something that needed to be done immediately.  Where sometimes trying to convince someone of the problems I was facing as an individual operator was impossible as they had no frame or reference or appreciation for the challenges; "try harder" is no answer to someone that lacks the position to enforce or the resources to enable.

How many times have I missed what people were actually saying in my rush to appear wise or knowledgeable or managerial? How many times have I lacked the empathy - the humility - to look at things from the point of view of people trying to do the things or struggling with the issue?

Not enough, I fear.

An aspect of Humility, I would posit, is the ability to listen with empathy.  Sometimes the problem or issue needs to be solved - but if in our solution to solve it we leave those asking angry or hurt or bitter or feeling unheard, we have likely won the immediate battle but lost the longer war.

After all, people may forget what you say, but they will never forget how you make them feel.

A The Cat Arrives

This week, A The Cat came to live with us in New Home 3.0.

He had been back at our house with Poppy The Brave and the guinea pig since my move.  He even had a new sister (A the Female cat) come to live with him. Life change rather dramatically though, when he got a new roommate - a young Jack Russell Terrier who was very interested in cats.

Suffice it to say that after a great deal of consideration, we all decided he would be happier if he was living here.

The apartment is about half the size of the house and he does not have a catio - but he does have supervised visits on the balcony and his stress level will, over time, be a lot less.

He is not used to the noise of traffic quite yet and still growls and hisses a bit, but he is become more accustomed to this place every day.

We are glad he is here.

Essentialism (XXII): Eliminate: Edit

 "I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free." - Michaelangelo

Of all the roles in film making, says McKeown, one of the most unknown and  underrated is that of the film editor.  It is a category in the Academy Awards, but almost no-one outside of the industry actual knows any of the names of film editors.  An interesting fact is that - since 1981 and as of the writing of the book in 2014 - not one film had won Best Picture which had not also been nominated for Best Film Editing.

The fact may not be obvious to us as viewers, except when one sees a much longer version of the film - a "Director's Cut" or some other edition.  If one is familiar with the released movie, one begins to appreciated the care and effort made to craft the whole movie:  things end up on the cutting room floor not just because of time, but because of the fact that it does not contribute to the whole of the movie.

Editing - defined by McKeown as "The strict elimination of the trivial, unimportant, or irrelevant"- is a core Essentialist trait.  It is a deliberate act performed to subtract which in turn adds to the whole, like a book editor who subtracts from the author's work in order to "add new life to the ideas, settings, plot, or characters".  As one editor defines it, "My job is to help the reader have clearest possible understanding of the most important message or takeaways."

By editing, we are forced to undertake that Essentialist task of making tradeoffs.  Instead of, like an author, having everything in the book, we have to decide what things will make it better.  It may mean killing characters, eliminating pages of written text, or even starting over - Steven Pressfield relates that his first draft of The Hot Gates was over 900 pages; the final version is around one-third of that.

How does the Essentialist get there?

1) Cut Out Options:   Editing involves cutting out anything that obscures the main message.  Cutting out options means consciously eliminating other potential decision trees - but that, suggests McKeown, is the essence of Essentialism.

McKeown makes the point that the Latin root of the word decision - cis, or cid - literally means "to cut" (thus words like scissors, homicide, fratricide, so deciding really is "cutting things out".  And by cutting things out, we make the remaining things more clear and give ourselves more time to concentrate on those things that "made the cut".

2) Condense:  For the writer, every word, every sentence, every scene should matter.  An editor is someone that is ruthless in making that happen:  Can one word be used in place of two?  As Alan D. Williams (an editor) observes "There are two basic questions to an author: What is it you want to say?, and Are you saying it as clearly and concisely as possible? "

At its heart, condensing means less waste, not doing more at once:  "Thus, to apply the principle of condensing to our lives we need to shift the ratio of activities to meaning.  We need to eliminate multiple meaningless activities and replace them with one meaningful activity."

3) Correct:  To correct simply means to make something right.  For an editor, it means understanding the overall thrust of a work;  a good editor, says Michael Kahn, does not always do what the author tells him to do, he does what he thinks the author really wants him to do. This, he says, helps him to make corrections that the author themselves might not even be able to verbalize.

It is the same for the Essentialist, says McKeown.  By making course corrections to come back to our core purpose - once we understand and have established it - we can compare our activities and actions to our real intent, and change if necessary..

4) Edit Less:  A great editor, McKeown states, does not just edit. They also understand when not to edit, to leave certain things as they are although they may violate the "rules" or intent of the work - because they see the work as a whole. They have the ability to show restraint.

In a similar vein, the Essentialist as the editor of their lives needs to practice the same sort of restraint.  It is not always necessary to immediately step in - here McKeown uses the examples of the e-mail thread where our first temptation may be to jump in first and hit "reply all" or being in a meeting and always insisting on giving our opinion.  Instead, we can wait, watch, observe, see how things develop.  Sometimes doing less is really doing more.

The Non-essentialist struggles with the idea of editing, seeing it as something to do only when everything else has become overwhelming. This is precisely the wrong time to do such things, as it may entail major changes or cuts not of our own making. Better, suggests McKeown, to follow the path of  the Essentialist, to edit our activities along the way in order to make periodic and deliberate adjustments.  Make this a habit, he says, and the process of "the main thing being the main" thing in our lives will become a cadence which is natural and unforced.

---

Application:

I am at best a lousy editor.

Sitting down and generating content is not a huge issue for me. Editing that same content often seems like a task I cannot complete.

If you were to ask me why, the answer I would give you is that it is boring, non-creative, and does not result in noticeable changes.  But if I am honest, those are all cop-outs.  The real reason is that I am lazy about it - so it should not be a surprise that I struggle with editing my life as well.

If I look at what McKeown has written, I suspect my biggest challenges are 1) I too often do not understand what the actual message is supposed to be (versus what I make it to be; and 2) Inability to cut options (which, as long-time readers know, I have struggled with immensely).

I do note that editing also takes time, which means that one has to plan one's finished product accordingly - for example, if I want to edit a post, likely I need to start writing them far more in advance than I do (which I really should be doing, to be fair).  Likewise in life, I need to see things out a bit further in order to start the editing to get there now.

I am not perfect at this- but I am far better than I was two years ago.

The Collapse CXCII: An Apology

 20 November 20XX+1

My Dear Lucilius:

I lack excuses for not writing you.

I could come up with “reasons”: The rabbits ate my power cord (except there is no power). We had more snow (but I am effectively bound here anyway). I threw out my back getting out bed (thankfully, not the case).

The reality is I do not enjoy writing about things because writing reminds me of them.

You may remember a time perhaps 50 years ago or more now when we sat up late (as teenage boys will do), speculating on the end of the world. What would happen? Who would we “let in” to our world? Would it be a Road Warrior Apocalypse or something equally laden with black leather and spikes with roving motorcycle bands making war against resource settlements armed with flamethrowers and fuel? Amusing enough and – given the day – better than the alternative visions offered up by things like “Threads” and “The Day After”.

The actual events have been a great deal different, of course. One could argue the lack of spikes and leather make for a slightly less fashionable sort of event, but everyone is entitled to their own opinion.

Has anything changed in the intervening weeks? No. The Winter is still here. The sides that have been established have only hardened themselves in resolution; the only positive outcome is – thanks to the weather – people do not have the energy or willingness to engage in much other than staying warm and surviving. Once upon a time campaign season used to be during weather that did not require additional efforts to stay warm and fed; such times may be on us again.

Perhaps the most exhausting thing has simply been people.

I can confess this to you Lucilius; you are far removed from this situation and know none of the individuals involved. What I find myself being reminded of – repeatedly – is how draining the position of leadership is.

It has been years since I have been “in charge” of anyone; managing people in my career was more of something that happened, not something I sought out. But simply being in the position of “leader” puts you in a position of being seen as a decision maker and resource, even if neither of the items are actually true.

And so, people are present.

I have made an effort to go out every day and see at least some portion of what constitutes this community. And while people are gracious and down to earth – thankfully, no fast talkers or false speakers here – they have...all kinds of inputs. Questions. Requests. Suggestions (many suggestions). Even at least one person with thoughts about how I am doing a less than stellar job.

It is exhausting.

My “family – I put that it quotes, but I have to acknowledge the fact that this is what they really are – have been spectacular. Young Xerxes and Stateira have fielded many questions and concerns both during our visits and even when I am not there. Pompeia Paulina – even in the last week – has sent more than one wisdom speaker at the door on their way with the admonition that I needed my time as well.

I am grateful for all of this, Lucilius. I find myself barely able to think, let alone plan. And planning, it strikes me, is the one thing I a “leader” (still in quotes; I find ridiculous I am considered one) should be about.

There is an old saying that states that one should never offer leadership to someone that craves it. The fact that it is true is no comfort to me as I sit here, staring at another flurry of snow with the remnants of an after dinner tea in my hand in the gathering darkness that is all too early.

At least Mad Max had a V8 Interceptor.

Your Obedient Servant, Seneca

2025 Switzerland/Germany: Elisabethenkirche

 The Elisabethenkirche (Church of St. Elizabeth) was built in the mid-1800s (A.D. 1848-1857).  It is interesting in that it was the first church built in Basel since the Protestant Reformation.

The church is considered a model of the Swiss Gothic Revival style.

Dietrich Bonhoffer.  I was a little surprised at this.

2025 Switzerland/Germany: Basel Town Hall

The Basel Town Hall (German:  Rathause Basel) was built more than 500 years ago. It served - and continues to serve - as the seat of the Basel government and council.

This tower was not original to the building, but added in A.D. 1900.

The paintings and statuary, to my mind, recall the Landsknechts, the mercenary soldiers used from the 15th Century to early 17th Century A.D.

This carving originally was mounted on the building.

I have no idea what it says, but it is a very impressive door.

Of Plaques And Gentle Mysteries

 

While continuing the general packing up and relocation of items at the Ranch, I came across this plaque which I had set aside in our initial cleaning.

This plaque originally hung in our kitchen, just to the right of the door space that led to the entry to the house.  As far as I know it belonged to my mother (I can surely not visualize TB The Elder having this).  The name - "Flavia" listed above the quote matches a sticker on the back.  The date there is 1969.  It hung there as long as my parents were in the house I grew up in and then moved with them when they moved to The Ranch, where it hung next to my parents' bed until I took it down.

My mother was one to collect certain things - sheep for example, or bears - but she seldom if ever collected this sorts of things.  Which makes me wonder of course:  What is the history behind this?  

She was a teacher, even then.  Was this a gift from a student?  Was this something from a teaching friend?  Or something she purchased for herself, a reminder of the impact that a teacher can have?  And why did this stay with her 50 or more years?

I have brought the plaque back home to be with us now, one of the  few definitive things I can place as being in the house I grew up in as a child and, perhaps obviously, associated with my mother.  It will hang here - or wherever the next "here" is - as a reminder of home, my mother, and the gentle sorts of mysteries that can permeate our normal lives.

(Editors Note:  A bit of research finds Flavia Art Studios, in existence since 1961.  The dates and location seem to match.)

A Year Of Humility (XXIII): Humility And Judging Ourselves

 

Sometimes in a world where we hear so much messaging, and especially in a world where so much of the messaging can seem to mimic God, it can become difficult to pick out the actual things we should be listening to.  

Feofil gets it right.

If it leads us to becoming more humble and judging ourselves rightly, it is of God.  If it encourages us to be proud or boastful or great in our own minds and leads us to not judging ourselves, likely it is not of God.

Funnily enough, I know the difference if I think about it for a moment.  The problem is I too often rush forward without stopping to consider the immediate outcome.  And the outcome can be illusory as well:  we believe we are doing "good" when really we are self serving or pointing out "an issue" when in fact we have the same issue or something of equally bad value that we ourselves practice.  

If I need to practice anything, it is to ask those two questions:

1)  Does this help me become more humble?

2)  Does this help me to judge myself?

On Writing

This past week I completed a 20+odd year journey by finishing The Trivium:

Originally written in A.D. 1937 by Sister Miriam Joseph C.S.C, Ph.D., it contains within its 280-odd pages a complete introduction to a classical education, the sort of education that 150 years ago was likely de rigeur for the student but which now is reserved for post-secondary education and even then only for a very small group of majors.  It has a complete introduction to the concepts of Logic, Grammar and Rhetoric as had been practiced since Classical Greek times until the mid-20th Century.  Perhaps not surprisingly, I cannot recommend it enough.

I can hear what you are thinking:  "TB, you read anywhere between 80 and 120 books a year.  How is it that it took you two decades to finish a book - and how do you know that it took that long?"

The answer to the second question is simply I remember this book because this was the first online order that I and my mother did together, to show her how easy it was to make an online order.  The answer to the first is that between the nature of the material (which I did not want to rush) and the reverence for this particular book because of its history, it was always something I was going to do "someday".  Until someday arrived in the form of a move halfway across the country.

---

In the very last chapter of the book the authoress discuss "Composition and Reading".  The "Composition" portion consists mostly information about poetry and metrical rhyme (much of which I had forgotten; we are far poorer for an educational system that is only STEM and "modern day" based) with a very small section at the end about all other kinds of writing.  Within that very small section, she discusses the Essay with this brief introduction:  "An essay can be broadly defined as a short prose work on a single topic."

A light went on for me.  That is what you write, the light said.  You are an essayist.

---

Writing - this blog, journaling, even trying my hand at longer works - has been something which, over time, seems to have developed almost accidentally into how I write.  Longer-term readers may recall a time when I agonized over my "voice" as a writer as the favorite writers I have all have one, something so recognizable that in reading their works, you know that it is "theirs".  I no longer have that particular concern:  I write the way I do now, a combination of practice and repetition and what has become an online presence where I am perhaps in some ways more "myself" than I am in the real world.

One of the goals I set for myself is to be "as honest as I can be".  That may sound like prevarication to some, an easy way out when I do not wish to address a topic. I have never interpreted it that way at all; instead, I write to be as honest as I can be about myself and my life as I cannot speak fully or credibly for the lives of others: those are their stories to tell.  And while I may tell some things I may not tell everything; in this I use the model of Rod Dreher, who steadfastly has refused to write about his divorce by simply saying that he had an online outlet and his ex-wife did not and therefore it was wrong to write about something where the individual was not involved nor had the ability to defend themselves.

It was in this combination of the "Aha" moment and reflecting on my style that the Anais Nin quote struck me.

Writing is, in a sense, "easy" for me.  I have kept a journal for almost forty years; writing about my feelings and thoughts freely is something that I have come to do naturally.  My ability to speak the same is not nearly so well developed.  Call it a sense of self consciousness, call it embarrassment, call it a reluctance to confront things in the moment:  I am far more verbose on the page than I ever am in real life.

Can I speak?  Certainly?  Do I have the talent of being the proverbial Raconteur, spinning a yarn that entertains and educates?  I do, and have often used it to effect in my career.  But it is not my preferred communication tool.  That is performing; writing is communication.

---

Writing over the past few months has been a challenge, compounded by a new schedule and settling in to a new location (still) and in a way, finding things to write about.  My life is in flux in a way that I had not anticipated and to be frank, sometimes I find my writing to be far more dead than I would like it to be or repetitious in form and scope.  Some of that is how I have chosen to structure this blog in terms of days; some of that is simply the period I find myself in.

But realizing that I have a both a voice/style and a preferred presentation of writing - an essay - has been a relieving factor.  One, it simply confirms that which I have come to do and in that sense - in my own mind - makes it "acceptable"; there is not necessarily a need to "find" a new or novel thing to try except as a writing experiment.  Two, it means that within that form, the fact that I write as I do - "as honest as I can be" - comports with the idea that a writer writes less those things that they can say rather than the things they cannot say.

It makes me laugh - a bit - it took me over twenty years to find that single line in a book I owned all that time. On the other hand, it makes me smile to realize that, probably to my mother, she has a smile on her face now knowing that the book she bought for me had that line.

Essentialism (XXI): Eliminate: Uncommit

"Half of the troubles of this life can be traced to saying yes too quickly and not saying no soon enough." - Josh Billings

Those of a certain era - myself included - may recall the miracle of the Concorde jet, a passenger plane which made the trip from London to New York in a little under 3 hours, less than half the time of the traditional plane flights.  It was an aeronautical marvel.

It was also a financial failure.

In four decades of service, the project consistently lost money - yet every time it went over budget, the national governments of France and the United Kingdom continued to pour money in.  They did the consciously, knowing that it would never turn a profit (final total was over 16 Billion Pounds Sterling).

Why did this do this? Beyond just what was likely the face saving nature of not discontinuing a national project, it was sunk cost bias, that tendency of humans to continue to invest time, energy and money into something that we know is not going to succeed because we have already invested time, energy and money which cannot be recovered.

A sunk cost bias, suggests McKeown, is the mark of a Non-Esssentialist:  realizing that they are continuing to devote time and energy to something which they clearly realize has no chance of achieving what they had hoped and indeed may be a dead end (Teenage and early-20's TB, your dating life is calling), they continue to plod on, not able to simply admit things are not working and stop.

But, McKeown points out, this is not the only sort of Commitment trap that lies in this area:

1)  The Endowment Effect:  In this trap, we tend to undervalue things that are not our and overvalue the things that are ours - thus insuring we never get rid of them.  This applies to things (any collector always believes their items are top of the market, when the market says otherwise) or activities (that project or committee we cannot let go of because we believe that we are critical to it).

The Solution?  Pretend that you do not yet own it.  Instead of asking "How much do I value this item?", ask "If I did not own this item, how much would I pay to obtain it?"  Likewise for opportunities:  instead of "How will feel if I miss out on this opportunity?", ask "If I did not have this opportunity, how much would I be willing to sacrifice to obtain it?"

2)  Get Over the Fear of Waste - As adults, per Hal Arkes (professor of psychology, The Ohio State University), we are more vulnerable to the sunk cost bias than children because we have had a lifetime of exposure to the "Do not waste" rule.  As a result, anytime we abandon something we feel that we have wasted it, something we are told to avoid.  

An example:  If a person had purchased two trips, one more expensive but less enjoyable and one less expensive but more enjoyable, they will tend to do the more expensive trip even though they will enjoy it less. Why?  Because they will have "wasted" the money on the more expensive trip if they do not take it.

The Solution?  Admit failure to begin success.  The classic example of this, says McKeown, is driving around endlessly instead of asking for directions.  Realizing we made a mistake in committing to something and simply letting it go releases the power it has in our lives.  Or to use the old adage, "First rule to getting out of a hole:  Stop digging".

3)  Stop Trying to Force a Fit:  McKeown uses the example of Dustin Hoffman's character in the film Tootsie.  Every time Hoffman auditions, he is told he is too young, too old, too tall...just different.  Like Hoffman, we often try very hard to become something we are not.

The Solution?  Get a second opinion.  Certainly just because it seems we are a mismatch something is no reason not to try - but often we are too close to see this.  We can benefit a great deal from a neutral third party who has no emotional investment in the situation and has no vested interest in the outcome. They can give us the "permission" to stop something that is clearly not working out.

McKeown here gives an example from his own life, spending months trying to force a project that was not moving forward.  He was unwilling to give it up - "I can make it work" - until he shared his frustration with a friend, who listened and then responded "You're not married to this".  This allowed McKeown the emotional space to stop.

4)  Be Aware of the Status Quo:  Sometimes we do something because we have always done something.  Anyone that has worked at a business that has a system that has long been outgrown by the company has seen this in practice; it is known as the "status quo bias".  

The Solution?  Apply Zero-Based Budgeting.  Like an accountant starting a new budget, use zero as a baseline and begin to justify every expense from scratch.  This does several things:  It allocates resources based on needs rather than history, it detects exaggerated budgets, draws attention to obsolete operations, and encourages people to be clear in their purpose and how expenses align to their needs.

Assume the same, McKeown suggests, to our own endeavors.  Instead of trying to budget our time we simply assume that all previous commitments are gone.  Then, starting from scratch, we ask ourselves what we would add to our schedule now: "Every use of time, energy, or resources has to justify itself anew.  If it no longer fits, eliminate it altogether."

5)  Stop Making Casual Commitments:  Some people have the habit of making soft commitments, things they have unintentionally agreed to in casual conversations or a comment.  We are chatting with someone about something and suddenly we find we are going to a restaurant or have a hike this coming Saturday.

The Solution?  From now on, Pause before you Speak:  McKeown suggests a simple enough solution: Pause five seconds before you respond to anything.  In that five seconds, ask yourself "Is this essential?"  And if you have made a casual commitment that is not essential? Humbly apologize and say that you did not fully realize what you were committing to.

6)  Get Over The Fear Of Missing Out:  This is a plague on modern society.  We fear on missing out on something, so we commit to everything.

The Solution?  To fight this fear, Run a Reverse Pilot:  In business one often hears the idea of a prototype or pilot program, a small scale model representing a larger idea or system.  In a reverse of this idea, McKeown suggests testing if removing something from one's life has any negative consequence.

In this model, one chooses a thing - a report at work for example, or a commitment to someone that you assumed always made a big difference to them - and you scale back.  If something happens or it is noticed, it indicates it is important.  If it does not cause any impact, perhaps its value is only in our own mind.

McKeown notes that this can be hard for us, because when we uncommit we may feel like we are saying no to someone or abandoning something.  This may feel true.  But the Essentialist, suggests McKeown, has the larger view of their most important things in view.

---

Application:

So rather unexpectedly, last year I got to apply this in an unexpected way: I moved.

All of a sudden, every activity I did in New Home 2.0 was effectively eliminated.  All I had a New Home 3.0 was my stuff, my rabbits, and a dojo in my sword style.  

This was, in a way, a combination of a great many of the recommendations that McKeown has above.  Suddenly I was faced with a blank slate and the question "What do I want to do?"

Some things I kept.  Some things I was doing I have not done since I moved.  Other things I continued to do, but have asked the question from time to time "Is this still something I want or need to do?"

It was not the way I anticipated it working out, but I can say that it has done a pruning I was not likely to do of my own accord.

On A First Dojo

(Thanks for your patience over the past weekend with my absence and my sincere apologies for the delay in responses - as I have learned, trying to answer anything from beyond the basics on The Computer In My Pocket (TCIMP) is little more than an exercise in mis-spellings and short, bland responses.)

I have often read and seen portrayed in films and books the concept of returning to the dojo that one started at.  The best scene I have seen is, perhaps, from the remake of Thirteen Assassins in 2010, where one of the characters returns to the dojo of his master.  The scene portrays him there, practicing in silence, noticed but not interrupted by his master and teacher, until after training his master enters and asks if he would like a match.  The moment is profound, the student returning after years away implementing the training that he had undertaken there.

That is fiction of course, and fiction can portray whatever it would like without a basis in fact.  What I did not anticipate about returning for this seminar is that I, too, would be confronted by the same sort of reverential feelings.

Oh, I had been back since my move in May, once for last year's seminar and once for a single class when I was back for other reasons.  But those seemed more like continuations of class, not the hard break that had happened with a full move. 

The dojo itself had not really physically changed since my last visit - oh, certainly, a few things had moved around and there were more weapons than before, but the core of it remained the same as the day we moved there (this is the third "location" that the dojo has been in but that is irrelevant; the dojo is where the sensei is and training happens, not a single physical space).   The people, too, had changed:  old faces I recognized, new faces I had met online but not in person.  Suddenly one realizes that one has now become "that student" that is referred to in dojo stories.

But - surprisingly to me - the sense of coming home was palpable.

In the fifteen years I had trained there, I cannot count the hours that I spent in that space training.  It is a meaningless number of course:  even if I could give you a number that does not portray the fullness of what happened there, the hours and hours of repeating and repeating the same actions, the learning of new things, the correction of techniques and overcoming of bad habits.  It does not account for the friendships that developed and the friends that moved on, either to other arts or simply stopping training.

It does not account for the personal learnings that happened there, learnings that continue to serve me to this day.  And it does not account for the personal struggles, the triumphs and repeated failures and occasional overcoming of those failures.

The hours and the place do not account for the fact that the first dojo really is like either the place one grew up all one's life or that one location in a series of locations that sticks out to one as home.

I train here now at a dojo in New Home 3.0.  This is my home dojo, to whose sensei I am bound and where I meet the same challenges, learnings, and (occasional) victories.  And there is an argument that a different dojo and different sensei challenges one in new ways, much as any change can do.  I have no reason or expectation that I will not continue to grow and mature here or that I will not spend many fruitful years here perfecting my art.

And yet - perhaps much like the first place that we have a particular experience or our first love - it will somehow always be different, even thought perhaps only in my emotions.  Because I suspect that, like a first love, one never forgets one's first dojo.

2025 Switzerland/Germany: Church of St. Gallus and Othmar

 The Church of St. Gallus and Othmar in Kaiseraugust Switzerland.  You know, your average 125+ year old church you just stumble upon when taking a walk. Happens every day...

2025 Switzerland/Germany: Early Morning

In order to get to the Augusta Raurica Museum, I needed to take a train and a bus - which lead to me getting up early on a Saturday morning.

Basel, Saturday Morning, around 0700:

Crossing the Rhine:

From the train: