It’s tempting to want something so bad that you believe you can will it to happen. Instead of examining risks and continually examining and reducing them, projects just forge ahead. This happens at work all the time. But most interestingly, there are some things that humans want so bad, like peace, that we also think that our prayers might make this happen, even when complete peace is impossible.
Category: Life Lessons
London, April 27, 2024, 7 PM
At first, I thought I was stepping into a world of high culture, of high tea, which many of us think of as posh and elite. But in reality, high tea is a working-class meal, hearty and robust, eaten at the end of the workday. It turns out I was going for afternoon tea. Afternoon tea is the high culture one. It’s all about elegance and light bites—think scones and tiny sandwiches, eaten in the late afternoon.
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Human Universals at Stonehenge
London, April 26, 2024, 7 PM
I enjoyed Stonehenge far more than I expected. When I first glimpsed it from the highway, it didn’t strike me as anything special—just a cluster of old stones set against the vast, open landscape of Salisbury Plain. But as I walked closer, my perspective shifted dramatically. The site wasn’t just a collection of rocks; it was a portal to a deep and ancient world.
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A Meditation on Skiing
We just got back from a skiing vacation. Skiing is a bit of a non-intuitive vacation. Why would a person want to spend their hard-earned money and vacation time in a cold, physically punishing environment? For the challenge. The challenge in skiing is commonly thought to be pushing your body to its limits in harsh conditions, but the real challenge is to ignore all of the distractions and mindfully focus on the mountain.
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The Angel, the Devil, and the Siren
I was reading the news and noticed that two types of drugs are in short supply these days: ADHD drugs (Ritalin and Adderall) and weight loss drugs (Ozempic). I realized that both of these drugs have something in common. They quiet the Sirens in people’s heads.
When I’m watching television, I see two characters trying to pull people in different directions. The Angel is on one shoulder and the Devil on the other. One urging us to do good and the other with more nefarious intentions. But in real life, there’s often someone else peeking about. This voice isn’t seeking pleasure (like the Devil) or doing good (like the Angel) but about an incessant pull towards something else.
I’ll call this voice the Siren after the mythological creature from Greek mythology. Like its namesake, this Siren voice in our heads is seductive and alluring, often leading us away from our true goals and intentions. Unlike the clear moral dichotomy presented by the Angel and Devil, the Siren operates in a more ambiguous realm. It represents the part of us that seeks distraction, comfort, and immediate gratification, regardless of the long-term consequences.
I’ve always been impressed by professionals who can transform light into art. Think of photographers turning car tail lights into long, beautiful streaks, or laser shows that make simple lines look captivating. These always seemed like expert skills, far from my everyday life. But recently, I stumbled upon a way to experience something similar, using nothing but my eyes during a car ride at night.
Last night, as I settled into the passenger seat for a brief nap, I found myself witnessing a magical light show. The headlights and taillights on the highway, which usually pass by unnoticed, began to transform before my eyes. It was like a scene from Fantasia or a planetarium’s laser show. The lights danced and morphed into stunning shapes against the dark backdrop of the night. They resembled beautiful, ever-changing sine curves, weaving an intricate dance on an invisible stage.
One of my favorite quotes if from Arron Sorkin’s “Sports Night”:
Dan: The distance is always 100 miles between first place and second place. You know, Jackie Robinson had a brother, and he ran the 200 meters. At the Olympics, he ran it faster than anyone had ever run it before, and he still came in second.
ABBY: I didn’t know Jackie Robinson had a brother.
DAN: That’s because it was the 1936 Olympics, and the guy who came in first was Jesse Owens.
Robinson’s exceptional performance, just a fraction of a second behind Jesse Owens, relegated him to a historical footnote. Because they get so much attention, we assume that the first-place finisher is fundamentally better than the second. This pattern isn’t limited to sports but is prevalent across our culture. Consider, for instance, that pinnacle of invention. The most brilliant inventor, Thomas Edison, and his most famous invention, the light bulb.
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Improvising a Great Conversation
Navigating conversations can often be a bit of a tightrope walk for me. Sometimes, despite my best efforts, they don’t always go as smoothly as I’d like. Like a few weeks ago, I found myself deep in a chat with a new acquittance over lunch. We how public schools to tailor their teaching to individual students. It’s a topic I’m quite passionate about. Yet, somehow, right in the midst of this important discussion, things took an unexpected turn.
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The Secret Blind Guy
In the book The Work Ahead office workers save the world with their knowledge of optimization and 80’s trivia. The protagonist happens to be blind. His blindness is only mentioned once in the book. To sighted readers like me, he seems just like you and me. It’s written by my friend Sameer Doshi. Sameer is an executive at Microsoft. During his interview, he forgot to tell anyone that he was blind and no one picked up on that fact. This made me think, “If he could tell a story where the protagonist was secretly blind, and he could interview for a job and no one noticed that he was blind, where else are there ‘secret blind guys’?” Amy Schumer has a joke about this in her Netflix special Emergency Contact:
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When Zaid Came to Visit
Before he died, Richard Feynman said, “By the time people die, a lot of what is good about them has rubbed off on other people. So although they are dead, they won’t be completely gone.” My Zaid died a decade ago on December 20, 2012. After I had an accident skiing, Zaid surprised me with a visit.
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