Reality Laughs

Walking Down Madison, by Kirsty MacColl. It popped in my head this morning.

That’s a reminder to be careful about what you put in your head.

Yeah, true. But hear me out.

The song came to mind as I was thinking of Nassim Taleb’s idea about time as the filter that determines quality. Not time itself, of course, but the passage of time that exposes an idea (typically) to repeated stresses. Survival is an indicator of truth.

An idea that breaks under stresses is a bad idea, and an idea that survives repeated stresses is likely to be a good idea. We can’t know with certainty, because it might break under a future stress.

So the song came to mind. Hah. Because there is no connection between the two thoughts.

From the sharks in the penthouse to the rats in the basement

It’s not that far

Walking Down Madison

A momentary snapshot in time. We see it. We feel it.

But facing the individual exemplar, and what I do about it? That’s the trick.

See you give ’em your nickels, your pennies and dimes

But you can’t give ’em hope in these mercenary times, oh no

And you feel real guilty about the coat on your back

And the sandwich you had, oh no

Maybe it’s time to remember B’s admonition. If you see a bum, the important thing is that you noticed (just like Kirsty MacColl). What you do next matters to you, not to the bum. Give nothing or a quarter or $20. It doesn’t matter except that you did something recognizing what you noticed. “

It doesn’t matter” is an overstatement of course. Your money makes a difference to the person you see.

But the vital thing is that your consciousness saw something. What are you going to do about what your consciousness observed? Is your life important to you?

B would say it’s not your job to give away all your money. It’s not your job to solve the problem of homelessness singlehandedly. Giving some money would, though, be a signal to your mind, acknowledging and interacting with a reality. And that is your job. God put this in front of you for a reason. You saw it. Now what are you going to do?

“If you see a toothpick on the floor, pick it up.”

The sound of kids playing in the neighborhood. Birds. City traffic. Airplanes, both jets and small propeller planes.

The pale winter sun setting behind the big tree in the back yard. The air is cool but comfortable in short sleeves.

Ok.

I have enough.

There is this certain commodity that I have been panic buying. I don’t need a lot, and I have plenty (several months supply) right now. It’s a hobby thing I’m talking about. I’m being vague on purpose.

Yet there is a shortage on the shelf, so anytime I find some, I buy it.

There is a large pile that I ordered online, waiting for me to pick up. I mean a LOT. I got lucky and placed orders that got fulfilled. As a result I would probably come close to doubling my stash.

I have toyed with the thought over the last couple of days . . . pick it up or get a refund?

Hard core hobbyists would say get it. They are speaking from experience.

I’m going to let half of it go and keep half — for a specific and immediate purpose.

Half of the order is a special type of product that I got just because it is available. That’s the easy decision.

The other half I will pick up so I can take some classes and get skillful in this hobby. It is probably 7 – 8 classes worth of supplies plus practicing on my own.

But additional stacking stuff in the closet just to make me feel secure from future uncertainty? No.

I don’t want to feed the fear of What If. There is enough. False Evidence Appearing Real. Take action in the opposite direction of the “real” my brain conjures up.

What’s weird about many a new, scary experience is that I know I can do it. Even before starting, while still trembling and uncommitted, I know this is within my grasp.

Yes there are some things that are self-evidently not within my grasp. Bearing children, for instance.

But others are within my grasp to accomplish. Being wildly fit. That is within my grasp. Yeah, the definition of “wildly fit” might be rubbery, but there is no doubt that I can get to a satisfactory point where I say to myself that I’m wildly fit.

Mental states, too. Being at peace. Again, what does that mean, exactly? Who knows! Not me, but others seem to know. I can get to a point where I feel that state for more than moments.

What holds me back? Living through the suck? No. I have endured the suck before. I know how to do that. Fear of failure? Maybe. That’s what other people think of me, not what I think of myself. I have failed often enough already that I’m kind of immune to it. Sometimes! Other times I take it seriously, even though it is a false god.

I think one of the reasons is knowing that this is within my power. If I try and succeed, then what? Unknown! But change. And if I try and fail, then what? Unknown. But change.

“It worked for them, so it will work for me” was my blind mantra at the start. And it was right. The promises came true. That wasn’t so scary, was it? In fact, I experienced liberation.

Let’s revisit the mantra. Tattoo it to your brain: It worked for them, it will work for me. But work it.

The payoff for those I knew 30+ years ago at the start was different (for those who persisted, and where are they now?) than it was for me. Did they experience a moment of oneness hurtling north on I-15 on a cold winter’s dawn in a fancy new car? Probably not. But have they they experienced a moment of oneness in another way? Almost certainly yes. That’s the payoff.

Even after all of this time I shy away from change. Even after first-hand evidence.

Let’s do this.

It worked for (insert name here), so it will work for me. Take that as a mantra.

And don’t forget Alison’s admonition: when you do that, be willing to take the whole package. You can’t have the so-called benefits without the so-called costs.

I already know I can do this. I am going to apply it in a prosaic (and simultaneously profound) area of life: business. Ian’s example is what I keep in mind.

There are patterns to follow. I can do this.

Real mistakes are mistakes of judgment, of intuition. You thought X was true and acted on it. Turns out, X was false.

Bullshit mistakes are mistakes of second-guessing. You thought X was true and then talked yourself out of it and didn’t act. Turns out, X was true.

The point is: to act and expose your judgment to mistakes. That’s how it gets better.

From Oriah Mountain Dreamer’s The Invitation: an exhortation to make real mistakes. I learned about this book from The Warrior Poet, podcast 54.

I’m about to do something that I’m afraid to do, because of self-consciousness about my physical appearance. Meaning I look in the mirror and wish I looked better.

I’m going to do it anyway.

I’m going to play “whatever date it is, throw away that many things” in January. One thing on the first, two things on the second, etc.

Physical things or unneeded files on my computer.

I started adjusting the post time for everything I write.

Random reasons. Mostly paranoia. Hide where I am.

And yet I keep doing it.

Does this reinforce a state of mind, a thought? Maybe the thought can be profitably discarded.

My fears come from “not enough” ideas in my head. There won’t be enough money to support the family. there won’t be enough time to do X, whatever X is. I’m not like able enough for people to want to hang out with me. I don’t look good enough. I’m not fit enough. I’m not disciplined enough. I don’t work hard enough.

So many not enoughs.

And yet as I type this with my thumbs, if I take a deep breath I feel momentarily ok.

Is that the seed? Is that where enough comes from.

And it’s always been this way.