Category: Life

“Ignorant men raise questions that wise men answered a thousand years ago.”

– Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

In 1999, there was a string of movies revolving around the theme of the disenfranchised middle-aged man, coming to terms with the monotony of life. Consider films like Fight Club or American Beauty. Of course, the characters in the movie clearly had their issues, but it presented an alternate escape route from this feeling that it’s all worth nothing.

Fast-forward to today and I see the same theme play out, albeit with a younger demographic. Except instead of movies that tell us to be alive by beating the hell out of each other, we have combat sports and echo chambers on the Internet to affirm this feeling. 

However, the danger this time around is instead of taking the difficult task of actually exploring this and working through it, those fallen to this feeling are blaming parts of society. Whether that be government, women, or the systems in place that they have decided only specifically targets them because, as you learn quickly in Theology, when you look for demons, you will find them wherever you’d like… as long as it suits your narrative.

If only these guys could pick up a damn philosophy book and discover this feeling isn’t new. There is an entire history of philosophers, from the absurdism of Albert Camus, the eternal recurrence of Nietzsche, the wisdom of Marcus Aurelius, all the way back to Socrates, that were obsessed with this very idea. 

It. Isn’t. New.

Life is the toughest, most beautiful and longest experience you will have. It’s going to challenge you in ways that are always new and just when you think you’ve hit a plateau, something new comes around the corner. Yesterday’s crisis will seem silly in light of today’s understanding and through it all, you will never feel like you have it all together.

This feeling of insecurity, anger and general existential dread isn’t a new moment in the human experience. It’s the same moment, played out over thousands of years by anyone who stopped to consider their own existence. How you work through it is the real work of life.

We are at another pivotal moment in human history where the very purpose of humanity is in question in light advances in technology—specifically AI. It isn’t the time to gather in corners of the world and worship any voice who offers a new target to blame. A cursory glance in the history of human thought will show you this moment, this feeling, isn’t special.

The problem isn’t new, the answer is old and a renaissance in philosophy is on the horizon. Focus your energies appropriately.

I’ve noticed in the emailing of my posts, some end up in the Junk folder while others cleanly arrive in the Inbox. I’m sure it has something to do with the titles and keywords within, but I find it frustrating an algorithm gets to decide what is junk instead of the reader.

Artists, if they’re not full of hubris, know they don’t get to dictate what people will like. They often experiment and create for their own satisfaction, giving a bit of their soul into every project they tackle. Often, they’re usually surprised at what resonates with people and sometimes, they get overwhelmed at the response and shy away from having to explain their process (e.g. J.D. Salinger).

But yet,

“The algorithm is good at recommending…”
“May we suggest…”
“The people who liked what you’re listening to also listened to to…”

My younger self would often spend hours in the library, wandering around the stacks and pulling random books to see what was inside. It was this serendiptiious discovery that led me to a Monopoly game guide, which had me thinking about statistics in a whole new way. Or, in any way for that matter. However, while sitting in the aisle and reading through the pages, getting ready to borrow the book, I also noticed a section of books that would become my life for a few decades: magic.

Sure, I had seen David Copperfield specials on TV and had an interest in learning, but I couldn’t know that taking one of those books out would lead to a career out of it over a decade later.

Another time, a random conversation with a stranger led me to Terry Goodkind, which then led me to Robert Jordan and my love of the fantasy genre.

A conversation with a friend led me to music I still listen to today. As did conversations with students at the beginning of my teaching career.

Some recommendations of “massively popular” art (books, movies, music, etc.) were not my cup of tea. I didn’t see the appeal and would never recommend them to others. Some of my absolute favourites are too specific and niche to recommend to anyone, but the specific people I know would love them, do.

The issues of the previous generations were breaking into the mainstream media, who dictated popularity. If it was on the radio, or on television, it was ordained. While the Internet was meant to break us free from that funnel, we are right back to where we started.

Except this time, we can ignore what’s offered and decide for ourselves and we should never forget that.

The wise learn much, see much, know much, but disturb little.

When a ship is going out to sea, all it takes is a slight nudge to change its course. A little disturbance after learning, seeing and knowing is all that’s needed.

Slight touches over long periods, provided, of course, the ship keeps moving. 

We live in a world right now that makes it easier than ever before to access anything, which presents the double-edged sword of making it easier than ever before to be distracted by anything. Even within focused tunnels, the opportunity to get off-track is remarkably simple.

Take, for instance, exercise.

You find a great workout program and get going. Then a simple search leads you down a path where an alternate program seems better. That takes you to a new philosophy of exercise, another program, another idea, another philosophy and next thing you know, little progress had been made.

Then things get really interesting because we also live in a world where a dedicated and focused attention towards something will gain the interest of people. When this happens, many requests are made and that also becomes highly distracting because those opportunities seem great, and they probably are, but it takes away from what had you focused in the first place. 

This overwhelming fear of missing out that is ingrained within our psyche is a hard beast to overcome. 

However, being able to have seasons of “no” can overcome this hurdle and bring us closer to what matters. It’s the ability to ignore everything else and the disappointment of others to actually stay focused on what you care about. 

A prime example is the author Brandon Sanderson, who is purposefully setup in a way that allows him to do what he does best: write. His team has specific instructions to let him be and while some of those tasks could easily be handled by him, they take away from what people actually want from him—more books.

As an aside, this should be the purpose of the gains in technology. Not to do more, but to offload more. I mean, it’s still a reality for some that they have to take their clothes to the river and wash them by hand. I’ll keep my washing machine, thanks.

Back on point, saying no for a season (however long that may be) is meant to be a fruitful endeavour. Even saying no to certain groups of people, in favour of focusing on others, can tighten those relationships that may have gone astray. Speaking from experience, when you try to please too many people, you lose touch with everybody.

So, embrace a season of ‘no’ and unshackle the distractions of the world. I promise, your well-being won’t suffer for it.


HT: Alex Hormozi

I was born at a very particular time that had me right in the transition of the technological boom. Raised in the 80s and high school in the 90s, it was just as the Internet was making its way to the public.

This puts me at a time when a new idea permeated our culture: the shortcut to everything.

Prior to this, like any young person, there was an idealistic view that things are going to work out great and the challenges elders tell you about won’t apply to you. You’re always the exception.

But that’s the joy of being young.

However, unlike the con artist artists of antiquity or the scam ads in newspapers and magazines, there was always an understanding of a road ahead. The rebellious nature of youth was to not travel that road, or find a different one that society expects.

The dawn of mass communication shifted the horizon. You could instantly download music, chat with dozens of people at once, and let me tell you, discovering Google and SparkNotes before teachers knew it existed—it was like sneaking a calculator into a mental math competition.

But something happened, culturally.

There was now an expectation that you could find a shortcut to anything. The idea of having to even travel on the road made little sense when there was a possibility of being transported to the end.

Why work hard for something when there was another way if you just knew what to search?

Social media amplified this problem to the stratosphere and I have to shake my head at the number of kids today who think they can get rich investing in crypto (especially when they only have a few hundred dollars to start), or they’re going to buy houses and apartment buildings to rent out (commercial mortgages for everyone!).

While I highlight these particular examples, there are endless more.

Unless one recognizes these for what they are, or accept it’ll take a lot more work than expected, it sets off years of dread as these people wake up in their mid 20s, or 30s… or 40s… and wonder why they aren’t further ahead. When expectation is out of line with reality, we have a cultural issue fuelled by anger, bitterness and dismay. The solution, of course, is to look for even more shortcuts.

This isn’t to take away from how much the world has changed and how difficult it is to meet those benchmarks people desire (e.g. owning a home). It’s simply getting people to ask:

Do I want a shortcut to nowhere or the long road to somewhere?

“The world isn’t driven by greed, but by envy.”

Charlie Munger

I remember my grandmother telling me how she grew up in a small village where people didn’t have much, but everyone was so much happier.

I also recall the many people who say they had no idea they were poor growing up.

This all makes perfect sense because when your world is just what’s around you, there’s nothing to compare yourself to that would make you feel inferior.

People who lament about the golden age of the 50s & 60s in North America are pointing to a time when houses were modest, salaries stretched far and the disparity between classes wasn’t so wide. People were growing up in neighbourhoods where people had the same stuff and everyone accepted that camping, hiking, or the beach was considered vacation time.

What caused envy then?

Intelligence, social connections, recipes, athletic ability—those subjective factors. But hey, grab a glove and head to the sandlot for a game with friends and we’ll forget all about it.

Let’s not paint a completely rosy picture because there were many issues that we made a lot of progress on since then. In addition, we’ve also developed some pretty enviable things:

• central air
• ibuprofen (e.g. Advil)
• being able to video chat with anybody on the planet with a device that is affordable to most and fits in your pocket

Oh, we also have access to such a variety and abundance of food that would make monarchs of that time jealous.

Yet, here we are; miserable with our lack, driven by envy from the constant stream of global comparison through the media.

Even billionaires, who literally have more money than could possibly be used in several hundred lifetimes, get envious of each other.

My proposal: find a way to ensure people’s basic needs are met, motivate them for a desire to do better in their own lives and teach them to envy who that future person will be.

Most importantly, make supporting your neighbour on that journey the highest value to achieve.

“Let it Be” plays in the background. 

My kids are at the table molding things out of clay while I write. I just finished a 5km run in 25 minutes. My wife is knitting a sweater.

The bills are paid, my investments are growing and we’ll soon be meal planning for the week.

While this sounds like a stream of ‘flexing’ (as the kids say today), it should be known:

• an elementary teacher I had said there was no point in challenging our class because we wouldn’t amount to anything more than construction workers or housewives
• I destroyed my knees at sixteen and could never run on them without injury
• a high school teacher I respected told me to stick to computers because writing wasn’t my forte
• a specialist told me that when it came to having kids, I was a hopeless cause

but

• the reason I wanted to write is my grade six teacher, who said he loved reading my stories and hoped I would keep writing them
• one of my high school teachers told me I should teach because I was a natural at it
• my circle of friends have been incredible cheerleaders in my pursuits
• my family has always been in my corner

I’ve ignored one of these groups and listened to the other, however, some days I wish both groups could see me now…

writing away while my kids play with clay.