Tuesday, April 22, 2025

2025 Japan: Sengakuji (I)

As with last year, this year I visited the Sengakuji (Sengaku Temple) located in the Takanawa neighbourhood of Minato-ku, Tokyo.  Built in A.D. 1612 at a different location, it was destroyed by fire in A.D. 1641.  The reigning Shogun of the time, Tokugawa Iemitsu, ordered five clans to rebuild it at its current location.  It was considered one of the three major temples of the Sōtō sect of Buddhism.

The Chumon, the Middle Gate and second of three historical gates (the Outer Gate, the Somon, has since been destroyed).


The calligraphy above the Chumon Gate reads "Banshozan" and means "Mountain of Many Pines", the mountain name of Sengakuji.


The Sanmon, or Maing Gate.  The kanji reads "Sengakuji".




The statue of Oishi Kuranosuke, the leader of the 47 Ronin (more on him tomorrow).




The main temple:


Ash from burning incense:



Looking back towards the Sanmon:


A memorial to the 20th Century priest Sawaki Kodo Roshi:



This bell tower was a late addition, constructed in A.D. 1913:

Monday, April 21, 2025

Of A Comment, An Orchard, and Changing Things

Last week in a post at FOTB's (Friend Of This Blog) blog Eaton Rapids Joe, a commenter made a response which made me stop in my mental tracks (reformatted for purposes of review):

"I just turned 66, went to a new Dr for a checkup.  He asked about my daily activities.

I explained I start at 0800, water at least one orchard, weed, replant, do maintenance etc.  The next day another orchard.  I have 300 fruit and nut trees planted and 800 in pots.

He told me hand watering was wasteful of my time.  I thought about the old saying, 'the best fertilizer is the footprint of the orchardist."

I told him that I had already spent my life trying to change people and the world and now I just wanted to grow food trees and in my book it certainly isn't a waste. (Ed. note:  Emphasis mine.)

He stayed quiet after that."

It made me stop in my mental tracks because the bold section was a thought that I had been struggling with and not able to give voice to.

If I am honest with myself, this has been the way things have been running together over the last few months - really, the last year more or less since our relocation.  Partially it manifested itself simply in the fact that with the change in location came a change in how I spent my time.  Partially it manifested itself - well, maybe a lot of manifesting following the recent election - by a greater and greater withdrawal from social media first and then most news and now blogs that generally dwell on  - as the commenter noted above - "trying to change people and change the world".

Combine that with what has been becoming clearer and clearer in terms of the fact that really my career is God's "calling" on my life and the focus I am finding on an ever decreasing list of activities to focus on (largely driven by the book Essentialism and improved by making myself blog about it to understand it), and suddenly my life seems very little about the "greater things" of the age.

One of the books I picked up recently at the recommendation in a book which I cannot now recall (Cal Newport?  Rod Dreher?) is the book The Intellectual Life:  Its Spirit, Conditions, Methods by A.G. Sertillanges, O.P.. It is a dense book and I am slowly reading through it, but one of the ideas he writes of is that God calls us to solitude, but not isolation:  "As lifegiving as is solitude, so paralyzing and sterilizing is isolation". 

I am largely a introvert - at least by how I recharge my energy, if not by how I seem to engage people - and have always had buried in me that someday I would just "get away" from it all.  But that is not the point, suggests Sertillanges:  yes, we need solitude, but solitude within the larger context of being in people.

I realize as I write this these seem to be two entirely different streams of thought - one on doing things that matter even to one's self and not "worrying" about changing people or the world, the other on the idea solitude versus isolation - but I think they have a common item.  And that perhaps is simply doing the things that we are given to do (by God in my case) outside of any greater social or civilizational context.

Another FOTB and the blog's resident optimist Ed from Riverbend Journal has made the comment more than once that for he, and I, and likely most of the readers of our blogs, the ability to impact "the world" is beyond us at this point.  The torch of decisional destiny has largely passed to the younger generations; we are in a different stage of life.  And it had struck me - before the comment at the start of this post - how relatively freeing a statement that is.  

The blogs I follow - they are all listed over there to the right, with one or two exceptions that post enough on political views that while I enjoy them, they are outside the bounds here - are almost completely consumed with people who are living lives which, by the world's standards, would be considered "small".  They are generally folks that are small homesteaders or retired folks (or both) that are simply living their lives and doing the things they feel important:  gardening, raising livestock, woodworking and carpentry, weaving, creating a comfortable home, posting pictures of flowers, writing fiction and writing about history and writing ponderings on life.   But if I think about such blogs, I realize that they have one thing that binds them:  they do (and write about what they do) from and for a love of the things that they do.

Not one of them writes about changing people or changing the world - but  they have come to change at least one person and one person's world:  my own as I have read them and come to know them over the years.

The commenter on ERJ's blog remains, sadly, anonymous.  But I remain grateful to them for helping to push me to a clarity that I have been struggling through but never arrived at: simply by doing that to which we feel called we can both change people and change the world through the solitude of those actions in a world that does not seem to see them.

And by doing so - whether in leaving an orchard or trees or works that pass to others or simply by the example of our lives - we leave people and the world a better place.

Sunday, April 20, 2025

Easter 2025

 

The Resurrection of Christ - James Tissot, 1890 (Source)

Now after the Sabbath, as the first day of the week began to dawn, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary came to see the tomb. And behold, there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and came and rolled back the stone from the door, and sat on it. His countenance was like lightning, and his clothing as white as snow. And the guards shook for fear of him, and became like dead men.

But the angel answered and said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for He is risen, as He said. Come, see the place where the Lord lay. And go quickly and tell His disciples that He is risen from the dead, and indeed He is going before you into Galilee; there you will see Him. Behold, I have told you.”

So they went out quickly from the tomb with fear and great joy, and ran to bring His disciples word.

And as they went to tell His disciples, behold, Jesus met them, saying, “Rejoice!” So they came and held Him by the feet and worshiped Him. Then Jesus said to them, “Do not be afraid. Go and tell My brethren to go to Galilee, and there they will see Me.”

- Matthew 28: 1-10, NKJV






Saturday, April 19, 2025

An Amusing InterWeb Search

Periodically I perform an InterWeb search of myself, both person and as an author of this blog.  One reason I did this recently was the fact that I had read and heard that Google was quite clamping down on search results to keep people within the Google Internet Sphere (turns out for a basic search, it is true. I do not show up anywhere).

Brave and its AI function, however, were a different story:

"Toirdhealbheach Beucail is a blogger who has been active since 2005 and writes about various topics including personal reflections, travel, and cultural observations. He is known for his blog "The Forty-Five," where he shares posts about his life and interests, such as his recent experiences in Japan and his thoughts on his career in the biopharmaceutical and medical devices industry.

Toirdhealbheach Beucail, whose name means "booming or roaring" in Old Irish Gaelic, has lived in several places throughout his life, moving from his hometown to different locations due to work and personal circumstances. He has also written a primer about himself, providing insights into his background and career journey."

I asked it a follow up question, "How does Toirdhealbheach Beucail write?":

"Toirdhealbheach Beucail is known for his detailed and reflective writing style. Here are some key characteristics of his writing:

  1. Personal Reflections: He often shares personal stories and reflections, providing insights into his life, thoughts, and experiences. This makes his writing relatable and engaging.

  2. Cultural Observations: Toirdhealbheach frequently writes about his travels and the cultures he encounters. His observations are thoughtful and often include historical and social context, enriching the reader's understanding.

  3. Professional Insights: Given his background in the biopharmaceutical and medical devices industry, he sometimes delves into professional topics, offering informed and insightful commentary.

  4. Descriptive Language: His writing is rich in descriptive language, painting vivid pictures of the places he visits and the people he meets. This helps readers visualize and connect with his narratives.

  5. Humor and Wit: Toirdhealbheach often infuses his writing with humor and wit, making his posts enjoyable and light-hearted, even when discussing serious topics.

  6. Structured and Organized: His posts are typically well-structured, with a clear introduction, body, and conclusion. This makes his writing easy to follow and understand.

  7. Authenticity: He is known for his authenticity and honesty, sharing both the highs and lows of his experiences. This transparency builds trust with his readers.

  8. Educational Elements: He often includes educational elements in his posts, providing readers with new information and perspectives on various topics.

Overall, Toirdhealbheach Beucail's writing is characterized by its personal touch, cultural depth, and engaging style, making his blog a valuable and enjoyable read."

One highly amusing sentence from a more in depth report:  "He has been blogging for 20 years as of July 2025, making him a seasoned and respected figure in the blogging community."

Seasoned, maybe?  Respected? And do we have anything as formalized as a "blogging community"?

I am not sure any of it is true and I did get a good chuckle out of it, but I suppose it is nice that at least Brave AI has a good opinion of me.

Friday, April 18, 2025

Good Friday 2025

I am not really sure if it is "okay" to have a favorite hymn for Good Friday as it is such a somber day.  But were I to, this is one of the best.

Go To Dark Gethsemane  

Go to dark Gethsemane,
You who feel the tempter's pow'r;
Your Redeemer's conflict see;
Watch with Him one bitter hour;
Turn not from His griefs away;
Learn of Jesus Christ to pray.

Follow to the judgment hall;
View the Lord of life arraigned;
O the worm-wood and the gall!
O the pangs His soul sustained!
Shun not suff'ring, shame, or loss;
Learn of Him to bear the cross.

Calv'ry's mournful mountain climb
There' adoring at His feet,
Mark the miracle of time,
God's own sacrifice complete:
"It is finished!" Hear the cry;
Learn of Jesus Christ to die.

Early hasten to the tomb
Where they laid his breathless clay;
All is solitude and gloom;
Who hath taken Him away?
Christ is ris'n! He meets our eyes:
Savior, teach us so to rise.

- James Montgomery (1771-1854), 1825


Thursday, April 17, 2025

The Collapse CLXXXVIII: Walking And Talking

 31 October 20XX+1

My Dear Lucilius

My sincerest of apologies for what became a six day delay in responding. I have been far more busy and distracted than I had anticipated. This should not have curtailed my conversation with you, but it has. I am thankful that Pompeia Paulina reached out to you (figuratively of course; I have no idea that you will ever see the correspondences) – although as before, I resolutely refuse to read what she wrote. Conversations have a right to be private between parties.

What have I been up to? Walking and talking, dear Lucilius, walking and talking.

Birch, as you might recall from your visit here, lies almost the end of the Gemstone Valley, a small valley with a Northwest/Southeast axis wedged between Gemstone Mountain and Sandstone Mountain, perhaps 25 miles deep and 3 miles wide. The state highway that leads from Highwayville heads Southeast enters Birch at about 20 miles, where it takes a hard East turn towards Kentucky City. “Behind” Birch is the remaining five miles and a county road, which leads up to a pass with a reservoir (Yes, I know. A dam with a flood plain. Not much I can do about that.)

The point of recounting this geography with you is help you understand what has been in my mind for the past week. One of course, is simply supplies. The second is defensible space and the most likely areas of potential attack.

To answer both of these questions, I needed to do a lot of walking and talking.

I have, by my estimate, visited every house that more or less “falls” within the greater Birch Area. There are, more or less, 50 such dwellings, of which perhaps 35 remain inhabited with others being vacation homes or homes of those that have moved away.

I stopped at every house.

Of those houses, around twnenty-five are what I would call “well disposed” to the idea of having something a bit more firm that what we have now. Those people come in a variety of ages, conditions, and units, from the Alcmaeonid clan with 9 members (parents, six children of various ages, and a mother-in-law) to the Widow Sappho, a 90+ year old veteran of life here with a mind as sharp as a tack. Between these two extremes are singles, couples, small families, retired folk.

The other ten houses...perhaps simplest to say that my decision in the trial was not well received by Terentia and her family and friends and they had no problem informing me of the fact. There were no weapons drawn specifically, but they were clearly in evidence. Pompeia Paulina sent Young Xerxes along with me to shepherd me through this sort of thing.

I detest animosity, Lucilius. But I can at least say that I did all I could to reach out.

One of the points of discussion was simply to find out if – and that was big if – people were interested in this proposed grand experiment (which, for the record, other than the rather unfortunate encounters above, everyone was). The second was to assess how folks were “set up”, as the saying goes.

Interesting facts about performing such an exercise:

1) Perhaps to no-one’s surprise, people here that live hear year round are generally better prepared than what I suspect most are, the climate and conditions being what they are.

2) People are generally quite happy to discuss their armaments.

3) Food was an unspoken issue (except for the Widow Sappho of course, who assured me she had “enough in her root cellar to outlast this Great Depression just like her parents did the last one”).

The last point reflects how much uncertainty and fear there is. People are genuinely concerned about what comes next.

Which leads me to my description of our area above: geography. Or perhaps more precisely, geography, likely threats, and defenses.

The reality is – given what I have just described above – any threats are likely to come one of four ways. The first one – from the Northwest of Highwayville -is the most likely, but also the one we would know of the earliest. And coming from the road the other way – from Kentuckyville – while much closer, would likely also be with sufficient warning. To our Southwest, Gemstone peak is likely high enough to prevent all but the most determined and energetic from making an attack (and I suspect we have few modern Hannibal’s in our modern world).

Which leaves the road to the reservoir behind us and the much lower range to our north, over which lies the wilds between Little City and McAdams – concerning in that someone could come over them largely without encountering anyone else except us.

This letter has gone on too long already, Lucilius, so I will leave you with this question for the next one, a question that has been on my mind ever since I started these walks: How do we make a defensible space when the very nature of where we are is not defensible?

Sometimes life comes down to playing the hand we are dealt.


Your Obedient Servant, Seneca

Wednesday, April 16, 2025

2025 Japan: Kurumamachi Inari Shrine

 If you were to exit the train station at Sengakuji Station, Tanagawas district, Minato-ku, Tokyo, come out, walk down the street and cross it on your way to Sengakuji (Sengku Temple), you would pass a concrete building that at first would look very much like just another modern building.  Then you would take a second look and realize it was a Shinto temple.


The temple is the Kurumachi Inari Shrine, a shrine which enshrines Inari Okami, the deity associated with foxes, rice, household wellbeing, financial prosperity, and general prosperity.


Fountain for ceremonial cleaning.  Tradition dictates washing one's hands and rinsing one's mouth out.


The main sanctuary.  The Deity is enshrined behind the door.




Side view of the sanctuary.





Tuesday, April 15, 2025

2025 Japan: Tayasu Mon

 The Tayasu Mon (Tayasu Gate) is one of the remaining portions of Edo Castle (now the Imperial Residence).   Originally built in 1607, the gate that we see today was built in 1636.


Tayasu mon in relationship to The Imperial Palace.  This all would have been part of Edo Castle under the Tokugawa Shogunate.

(Source:  Google Maps)





Looking towards the Nippon Budokan.


The remaining moat and earthen walls of what was Edo Castle.



Monday, April 14, 2025

Mid-April 2025 Grab-Bag

I have to start this posting out with the kindest of comments.

One of the more recent posts to which I have had a surprising reaction is my recent post on the Mazda5.  I thought it was good enough to send to my friend of 20 years Rainbow, an actual writer.  She sent back the following comment:  "The people who leave comments on your blog...wow...you've created quite a lovely community."

To be clear, I did not create the community; at best I curate it.  Thank you all for being stellar human beings. If anything, my friend's comment encapsulates precisely what I had hoped to create.

---

Spring is springing in the slow manner it seems to here in New Home 3.0, a bitter struggle where Winter seems quite reluctant to give up its grip until leaves, clawing and gripping the whole way.  Having now been here for over a year, I begin to get the sense of the season:  it is not so much that Winter disappears as it is that is slowly fades away. 

We are not quite there yet, but the 10 day forecast now has more sun than rain and days about above 60 F/15 C than below it.  And we have already surpassed 12 hours of daylight a day (one of the blessings of being much farther North).

I am looking forward to the Spring/Summer/Autumn here, now that I have my relocation sea legs under me.

---
Last week, my tax package arrived.

As part of my relocation package, I got a year of having my taxes done by someone else - a big someone else, of all things.  Which is fantastic this year, because of the relocation.  Final damage is that we have to pay this year - more than I like, but less than I have to.  And for an added bonus, we now have state tax to account for.  

Usually I prefer to have a refund rather than to pay; on the agenda after this tax season ends is to find a local tax professional.  Sadly, I fear I have reached the end of my ability to easily do my taxes.

I also spent part of the weekend doing the taxes for my mother-in-law.  It is something I have done for both her and my father-in-law for years.  Their taxes are very straightforward, so it consumes a rather small part of one afternoon and a small part of another to check my entries.

There was a bit of a panic when I realized that two of the documents were made out not to my father-in-law but to their trust, which sparked a rushed online to find out one has to do in that situation.  Turns out that there is a whole different form for trusts (Form 1041, if you were curious).  After pawing through the IRS website (never a solid idea on a weekend), it emerged that they fell below the threshold for reporting this year.  Panic averted.  That said, likely I have reached the end of my ability to do their taxes as well.

Looking at the tax forms and tax language on the official IRS website, I think we are far beyond the point of "simplifying" the tax code anymore than one can "simplify" any other extremely complex system.
---
This weekend, after a two year hiatus, I officially joined an actual gym.

It was almost to the month two years ago that, due to Hammerfall 2.0, I had end my membership at the gym I was training at.  The last two years have been maintenance at best or managing a decline at worst through a variety of my local HOA gym, hotel gyms, or the small gym at our new apartment complex - all serviceable enough, but not of a nature to sustain or maintain the progress that I had been making.

The membership is indirectly through my work (another one of the fine benefits of my job) and the monthly fee is less than if I just enrolled there. And it is conveniently a scant mile away from work on my way home, so there is no excuse for me to not stop there every day after work.  And they have all the things.

I have communicated this to my coach The Beserker.  He seems genuinely pleased to start punishing me....er, programming me with the Olympic lifts (Squats, Deadlifts, Bench Press).

I went and worked out there on Saturday. I cannot tell you how good it feels following a real workout.

---
Long time readers here know that I am a big fan of Rod Dreher (yes, I know, I still owe a review of his most recent book Living in Wonder:  Finding Mystery and Meaning in a Secular Age).  He writes regularly on Substack now (to which I do not have a subscription, but might end of getting one - I enjoy him that much).  His reflection on Palm Sunday yesterday entitled "Seeing and Not Seeing" is well worth your time and is a free view.

(My reviews of his books:  The Benedict Option and Live Not By Lies.  I will note that Live Not By Lies has now been turned into a 4 part series on Angel TV.)

---

This weekend, having some russet potatoes that I had bought some time ago and still had a fair remainder, I did something I have not done in 30 years and made Potato Farls.  It is also (apparently) known as Irish Potato bread, and is considered a staple of the Ulster Fry from the North of Ireland.


The recipe I used is from A Little Irish Cookbook.

Ingredients: 

2lbs/1kg/1 cup mashed potatoes
4 oz/25 g/1 cup plain flour
2 tbsp butter
Salt

Boil the potatoes and mash them (ideally these are freshly boiled and mashed; even better is to push them through a food mill).

Melt the butter and add into the potatoes with the salt.

Work in to flour quickly but thoroughly and knead lightly.

Divide into two and roll out each half on a floured board to form a circle about the size of a large dinner plate.  

Cut into quarters (farls) and cook for about three minutes on each side in a heavy frying pan in a little bacon grease.

TB Notes:  I had no food mill, I reversed the butter/flour/salt additions and probably added too much flour to boot,  I had no rolling pin to roll them out so I just patted them out, and I lightly fried them in olive oil.  That said, they are pretty delicious none the less.  They made a great meal paired with a Caesar salad and the beverage below:


Sunday, April 13, 2025

A Year Of Humility (XV): Accepting God's Will

 

As long time readers know, I have struggled for most of my life - certainly the life of this blog - with my, and I put this quotes, "calling".

If you were to ask me what I really wanted to do, I likely could not define it for you.  At one time I thought I had different callings - teacher, entertainer, pastor, writer, businessman, even agriculturalist - but each and every one of these failed to pan out for different reasons.  Some of them became the hobbies that they were likely ever going to be, others faded away into the background of "jobs I have held".

The one more or less constant for the almost of my post-college employment history has been the industry I am currently in, biopharmaceutical/medical devices.

This was not the industry I ever intended to be in - in school I was mediocre math and science student at best and in college I took the least amount of course I needed to in these fields to get my degree. Yet for every other things I thought I was meant to do, it is only this industry that has provided me with steady employment and a more than generous salary and benefits.

Then an odd thing happened to me in my recent application for a new position in my department:  I suddenly felt like this was my "calling".

That may not sound like game changing thought that it is, at least for me.

Literally all of my life I have somehow had the belief that I was meant to do "something important or noble" (and yes, that feeling was just as undefined as it sounds).  Likely that was a combination of an inflated feeling of self importance as well as the fact that certain things came pretty easily to me; thus, was I not destined for greatness?  And yet, that "greatness" somehow always eluded me, and I found myself "slogging" away at a career that felt was just a pit stop on my way to my actual calling.

Mind you, it was a very good career in the sense it was financially rewarding and allowed us to make decisions like The Ravishing Mrs. TB being able to stay home when Na Clann were young and even when they got older, to work a part time job to be able to stay involved in their school and activities.  It allowed us to buy a house (more than once) and travel and get out of debt and pay cash for things instead of financing them.

But always in the back of my mind was the idea that this was "not it", that the Great Thing lay out there and I was somehow always on the precipice of finding it.  

If only, I thought, I could just get out of this career.

And yet when I wrote my letter to go along with CV for the recent application, I found my attitude had completely changed.

For the first time that I can remember, I was not applying for a position merely because I needed one or that I wanted make a change to a higher level or better pay.  I applied because I truly thought that I could make a difference in my workplace - not a scientific difference of course (no sane person wants me in a laboratory or manufacturing space), but a difference in the way work, in the way we communicated, in the way the site does the business that it does.

Somehow, almost accidentally after 25 plus years, I had found my calling.  Perhaps even more ironically (but just like every major romantic or life change Hallmark-style movie), it was under my nose the whole time.   I just had to humble myself to realize that "Greatness" and "Great Importance" were not something I had been called to; making things better and being a better servant of others was.  A far humbler task, to be sure, but apparently the one that actually needed to be done.

Sometimes humbling ourselves before God means ignoring what we think we are called to do and asking "What would You have me do?"  And sometimes in that answer, the obstacles that previously beset us may be moved aside - not that they allow us to go our own way, but rather that they allow us to go in the way He always desired for us.

Saturday, April 12, 2025

Moving On Up

 You may recall approximately two months ago I had applied for a managerial position at my current place of employ:  same department, some of the same duties, same people.  The process took a bit longer than I think anyone had anticipated, partially complicated by the fact that I had hauled off and gone out of the country for two weeks.

I received a job offer last week.

The offer is for a manager level position; I would be primarily responsible for a certain subsection of the activities that we do - although still doing a lot of things; we are too small a department for true specialization.  I would be "managing" five of my current peers - I say "managing" as they all know far more than I do of the operations and the history behind them. Beyond the potential increase in bonus and stock option structure, a somewhat nice thing is that due to my "years of managerial experience" (or less delicately put, I am old) they were able to increase the amount of increase between levels.  As a result, combined with my annual raise it is almost a 23% increase in the little over a year since I started here.

While I am pretty pleased with the outcome - from one of the interviewers, a friend (I actually knew and had worked with every single interviewer I had), the other candidates were credible so it was not just a slam dunk - it did strike me as a little odd.  After all, most people do not go from individual contributor to managerial level in a year. I checked with my "new" reports about how they felt about everything, mostly because I was once assigned to a former coworker when they got promoted rather hurriedly and it was not a great experience (in fact, I ended up leaving that position about six months later).  No-one seemed particularly concerned about that aspect, hopefully because they know me now well enough that a change in level is not of any concern (I remain, as I tell them, exactly as you know me now:  What You See Is What You Get).

I have to confess I feel the tiniest bit of satisfaction at this news - not just because of the promotion, but because I feel that it validates my strategy of taking the position originally:  rather than apply for a managerial position that I might or might not make the initial intake scan because of my background and lack of a scientific degree in a science field, I applied for an individual contributor role,  hoping that I could demonstrate my value and eventually things would change.

In that sense, my strategy worked out better than I had hoped.

My official new role starts next Wednesday (beginning of the pay period).  Nothing really changes in practice, other than the fact that I will have even more e-mails and more meetings (the sign of "rising in the modern corporate world).  But I do enjoy my job and my coworkers.

And for the first time in a very long time, I neither have to drive to a new place nor learn new systems (or move to new locations!) to start a new role.  All in all, not a bad way to "start" a new position.

Friday, April 11, 2025

Essentialism (XIV): Essence of the Essentialist: Explore: Play

 Anyone of a certain age will remember the ending of the Disney movie "Mary Poppins" where the father of the household, George Banks - a rather gruff figure who is the paragon of a British Banker in the early t20th Century - has been disgraced and his career cashiered, suddenly realizes the joy that he has missed for so many years.  At the end of the movie find him, bowler hat with a hole in it, flying a kite joyfully with his children (cue "Let's Go Fly a Kite" here), having restored joy not just to himself, but to his household.

A fictional story, writes McKeown, but based in an idea that play can restore a great many things - joy, camaraderie, delight - to our lives.

One never has to teach a child to play; they seem to figure it out on their own.  Their imaginations take over, spinning tales and activities in their mind.  It becomes as spontaneous and free form - and it is not just us as humans:  young animals love to play as well.  Go to any shelter or barnyard or zoo and one will find young animals - and older ones - engaging in activities that make no sense except that they are...well, playful.

But something happens to us humans over time as we grow up: "We are introduced to the idea that play is trivial, that it is a waste of time.  Play is unnecessary.  Play is childish.  Unfortunately, many of these negative messages come from the very place where imaginative play should most encouraged."  Schools, posits McKeown, are a large contributor.  Based on the work of Sir Ken Robinson, a researcher of creativity, he notes "We have sold ourselves into a fast-food model of education and it's impoverishing our spirit and our energies as much as fast food is depleting our physical bodies...Imagination is the source of every form of human achievement.  And it's the one thing I believe we are systematically jeopardizing in the way we educate our children and ourselves."

Nor, McKeown notes, is the workplace any better: companies tend not only to not foster the concept of play and creativity, but actively undermine it.  Not surprising, he suggests, based on the fact that modern corporations are a product of the Industrial Revolution which focused on efficiency in the mass production of goods and used the military of its day as a model for organizational purposes.

"Play", as McKeown defines it, is "...anything we do simply for the joy of doing it rather as a means to an end." Play matters, he suggests, as studies show adults who engage in some form of play see results in anything ranging from "personal health to relationships to education to organization's ability to innovate."  Play, he states is critical to firing up the brain.

So how do Essentialists handle this?  How does play provide inputs to the pursuit of the vital few in the midst of the trivial many?  In three ways, suggests McKeown.

1)  The first way is that it broadens the range of options to us.  By playing - doing something for the sheer joy of doing it - many things can happen.  We see possibilities we might not have otherwise seen, we broaden our perspectives, we make connections, we learn new things.  Albert Einstein valued play:  "When I examine myself and my methods of thought, I come to the conclusion that the gift of fantasy has meant more to me than my talent for absorbing knowledge."

2)  The second way is that play acts as a antidote to stress.  One way is fairly obvious: we move our mind to something we enjoy.  The second is that the more stressed we become, the more the creative and innovative functions of our brain shut down and our thinking narrows (apparently during stress, the emotional part of the brain, the amygdala, gets stimulated while the cognitive part of the brain, the hippocampus, is suppressed).

3)  The third way is that play has a positive effect on the executive functions of the brain - planning, prioritizing, scheduling, anticipating, delegating, and analyzing.  Play stimulated both the careful logical reasoning side and the carefree exploration sides of the brain.  As result, quoting psychiatrist Edward M. Hallowell, key breakthroughs in thinking come through in times of play: 

"Columbus was at play when it dawned on him the world was round.  Newton was at play in his mind when he saw the apple tree and suddenly conceived of the force of gravity.  Watson and Crick were playing with possible shapes of the DNA molecule when they stumbled upon the double helix.  Shakespeare played with iambic pentameter his whole life.  Mozart barely lived a waking moment when he was not at play.  Einstein's thought experiments are brilliant examples of the mind invited to play."

How does the Essentialist do this? Mostly it is on their own initiative:  companies (on the whole) do not encourage play or the concept of play as important; if anything, they tend to emphasize The Non-essentialist's view that play is trivial.  Which is a bit odd in that companies often deeply desire the creativity and innovation that moves the world (and profit) forward.

How do we start this process for ourselves?  McKeown suggests we start in our own past to mine our own memories:  What did you do as a child that excited you?  How can you re-create that?

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Application

I have to admit that of the four items to explore, this one was the most counterintuitive and odd to me.

Do I agree with his premises, that play is valuable and that it is pushed away by institutions and well-meaning people as we grow up?  I do.  My mind goes back to the quote I posted earlier this week  "One day, you and your friends went out to play for the last time".   It happens, almost imperceptibly at first, until we find ourselves mired in a job and a home and a life that seems too often to do everything it can to remove those opportunities. "Play" becomes something we do for two hours on the weekends or thirty minutes on a evening and often has ulterior motives: the workout that is only ever in a gym, the sport that masquerades as a social event, the reading that only takes place because it is required.

Do schools also insure this?  It is obviously long since I have been in school so I do not know if I can fully address that.  But business?  Business is the play killer:  Serious stuff we are about here, no fun allowed.  This can be as wide ranging as the modern open business office where no-one has space and thus no ability to display personality or fun to the groups and meetings which are only, ever slow descents into the madness of the endless discussion.

In other words, if we are going to be about play and the benefits it offers, it is up to the individual.  No-one and no institution will encourage this for you.

Oddly enough, I think this is one place that I may actually be doing okay.

I tend to be whimsical at work.  I hum to myself as I walk along.  I happily present bad Dad jokes.  My rule of thumb is "If your phone ringer is on and loud, I will dance.  Even in a meeting."  I have known to skip in the hall.

I try activities at home that are mostly useless in the modern world, or at least not at all profitable but bring joy to me.  I collect random historical facts about specific times and periodically present them for no good reason.  I continue to try to make "International Speak Like A Pirate Day" an actual thing at work.

I undoubtedly cause my managers some grief (although not of the Human Resources kind).  I am reasonable sure there are those that consider me a somewhat unserious person.  But I have to admit that I am usually pretty happy and can bring a smile to almost anyone I meet.

I may not be able to play as much as I used to, but I try to gamify the corporate work experience and life outside of work.  Am I more creative?  Hard to say.  But I do tend to be on the happy side more often than not.


Thursday, April 10, 2025

The Collapse CLXXXVII: A Wife's Lament

 October 28, 20XX+1

Dear Lucilius:

Seneca has always said it was fine to write to you whenever I felt like it. He offered to let me read the letters he has “sent” you and will sometimes read part of them out loud tome. I typically do not read them without him as someone’s mail is their business and I like to respect people’s privacy. And sometimes I think he shares things with you he cannot share with anyone else here.

But I am worried about him.

I am sure he wrote to you that people here have asked him to help… I am not sure the word I would use here. It is not really lead, as he has firmly rejected the idea every time it comes up. It is not really advice, because from what he talks about to me and to Young Xerxes when he is here, it is more than strong suggestions.

He has used the word “caretaker”. I am not really sure why he chose that one, but it is the one that he keeps using.

Every since that meeting, he has been distracted and not home. I have to count on Young Xerxes or my daughter to tell me these things, because he even when he is home, he is not really home.

From Young Xerxes, I know that he has been walking – walking up and down the state highway that cuts through the town, walking around the edges of the town, walking down the handful of roads and streets that constitute the town. And then he comes back and draws at night on scrap paper. I have looked over his shoulder and it looks to be a map of the town that he has been drawing, with lines and squares and arrows written on them. He has at least a half dozen on the table.

I also know from Young Xerxes that he has now visited almost everyone in town. I think there are not more than 20 houses now that have someone living in them, and some of those are the people that think less of him after the trial. But Young Xerxes is sure he has been to every one of them, looking around, talking, asking questions.

He seems so tired and distracted when he gets home that I have to forcefully remind him to eat and drink – and even when he does that, it is less than he would usually do. When I ask him about his day, it takes him a moment to almost “come back” from some other location. He is somewhere at the moment that no-one else seems to be.

I having been giving him shoulder rubs in the evening. The tension is so much there and he seems so unaware of it. And I know he is not sleeping well, that he rises in the middle of the night so as to not wake me (he always does, of course; I don’t have the heart to tell him that as it will add just one more thing to his load) and comes out and sits in the very dim light of the fire. I don’t hear any noise when he is out there; I think he is just staring into the flames.

I love my husband, Lucilius. I just wish sometimes he had less of a sense of responsibility for others.

Your friend, Pompeia Paulina

Wednesday, April 09, 2025

2025 Japan: Small Snapshots Of Tokyo

 The latter half of our training was in Tokyo.


From my hotel room at night, overlooking Shinagawa:


The same view at sunrise:





Street arcades in Asakusa:





Asakusa Shrine:



Walking in Tokyo at night to and from training: