Grace: A Quick Sunday Morning Thought.

What is it to embody grace, to be gracious in word and deed? 

It's positioning ourselves alongside the highest and best of what is. It's joy. It's love. And it's our greatest opportunity. There is no ungracious path to real happiness or true success. Grace touches deep in the soul and elevates us in a unique way. It means acting beyond the calculus of merit, with forgiveness and transformative power, demonstrating both nobility and humility in equal measure each day. It's the spirit of living well and abundantly in all good things. It's our calling and chief dignity in the world.

Some Random Thoughts

Courage. It's necessary for all the best things we might do, have, or become. It somehow matters every day.

"Courage is the only soil in which our talents can grow and be used well." Ali, in The Stone of Giza, soon to be published.

Speaking the truth in love. That's one of my favorite phrases in the Bible. And it's a great ideal to aspire to. Both parts are important.

Don't fear being contradicted. Fear only being too incurious to see what's true. Keep your guard down and your mind open to learn well.

Discernment and logical care are vital components of what we call wisdom.

Whatever your work or life might be, a sense of nobility and humility kept in balance will allow a level of greatness otherwise impossible.

The Double Power Principle: Anything with great power for good has equal and opposite power for ill. It's normally up to us how we use it.

The Dual Significance Principle: Any job productive of good can be given a trivial or noble description. Ultimate motivation needs nobility.

When people use a holy book or scriptural quotation to condemn and divide, it makes me sad. There is one Judge, and none of us is that one.

Your inner thoughts can enrich or corrupt you. Nothing else has that power without engaging your thoughts. That means you can choose.

When you have the deepest understanding of life, you come to realize that we're here to help and not harm those around us. Compassion rules.

Good people can make bad mistakes. Let others back into your heart when they learn and recover. You'll need them to do the same for you.

Difficulty and Heroic Success

I flew to Austin, Texas recently, after talking to 100 doctors here in town, to speak to 300 bankers and software experts about success in changing times. On the four planes to get there and back, I read the amazing new book, Shoe Dog, by Phil Knight, about the founding of Nike, the great shoe and sports apparel company. Phil experienced more troubles, difficulties, bad surprises, terrible developments and unexpected shocks along the way than I've ever heard about in any business or work story. I told my wife that in every chapter it's almost like being chased by a rabid dog and escaping at the last second only to be hit by a car, having the EMTs come to get you and, on your way to the hospital, the ambulance gets swept away into a raging stream. When you finally get airlifted out of the river and make it to the ER, the building catches on fire around you. That would almost be one of Knight's good days in trying to start his company. And yet he kept plugging away. And he intuitively used a lot of ancient wisdom in his quest.
 
In case you don't know my 7 Cs of Success, or do and yet would benefit from having them in front of you for a moment, here they are.

In any challenge, with any worthy goal, we need:

C1: A clear CONCEPTION of what we want, a goal vividly imagined

C2: A strong CONFIDENCE that we can attain the goal

C3: A focused CONCENTRATION on what it will take to get there

C4: A stubborn CONSISTENCY in pursuing our vision

C5: An emotional COMMITMENT to the importance of what we're doing

C6: A good CHARACTER to guide us and keep us on a proper course

C7: A CAPACITY TO ENJOY the process along the way.

You can see all 7 Cs of Success at play in Phil Knight's heroic responses to awful situations, again and again. For years, he made almost no money and it constantly looked like his fledgling enterprise would go under and he'd lose his home and everything he'd worked for. Then, after fighting more battles than you can imagine, he was able to take the company public. By the end of the book, he was able to change sports in America and even our overall culture in many ways. Plus, he winds up with a personal financial worth of over 10 billion dollars—a result he hadn't even sought.
 
Well, we don't all get that pay-day, for sure, but Phil gives us an amazing example of how to persist and perform, day-to-day, even when things are so challenging that others can't imagine how we continue. It has to come from a strong belief and conviction that we're doing something vital and important, something meaningful that makes a difference. When your talents are matched up with a great quest, incredible things can happen. So be of good cheer, and keep hope alive, as you use the wisdom of the ages to power yourself forward!

Patriotic Citizenship at its Best

A few years ago, after 9-11, when everyone was debating patriotism and what it is, I wrote a little essay called “The Everyday Patriot: How to be a Great American Now” and privately printed it for friends and clients. One of the main themes was that patriotism isn’t about nationalism or xenophobic jingoism. It’s not an us-versus-them mentality. It’s not essentially a polarized form of thinking and feeling at all. Not at its best. It’s rather a matter of cultivating the garden we’re in, for the greater good of all. And it’s about voting every day—with our time, attention, energy, and thoughtfulness. That allows us to vote better when the ballot box is available.

Citizenship isn’t the remote, airy abstraction that it’s come to be for most of us. It’s an essentially participatory role. We’re not supposed to be on the sidelines, appraising those on the field and either cheering in support or booing. We’re supposed to be on the field of action ourselves, engaged in the big game.

Consider what’s going on in Charlotte right now. Patriots don’t riot against their neighbors. Engaged citizens find a way to make their voices heard without ripping up their own gardens and destroying their communities. But we’ve forgotten our civic duties. If we think of government at all, it’s either as a big drain on our resources, almost a necessary evil, or else an institution we can call on for help. But in a democracy, we all are the government at its most fundamental level. That’s the most basic truth of self-government. That’s why I pick up litter when I’m out on a walk. The little things add up. It’s also why I write a representative when I think action needs to be taken. And I don’t do nearly enough. Most of us don’t. We need to cultivate the garden more.

So today, perhaps let yourself dwell on that image. Our garden needs tending. Just remember the old adage: Great gardeners live in beautiful places because they make them so. And go vote every day.

Our Blindness

We're all blind to something. This election year proves it anew, in case you ever doubted it. But what we're blind to varies, all over the map. We're each self deceived in some way, and we're all vulnerable to the deceptions of others in a related manner. But it all starts within. We're masters of tricking ourselves through the subtle diverting of attention, that easy assumption, a longstanding resentment, an unexpressed hope, or the righteous indignation toward others that often masks our true need to rectify and reform ourselves.

The most self deceived person of all is the one who sees deception only in the lives of others, and never in his or her own heart and mind. To be blind to your own blindness is a most dangerous state indeed.

Our inability to see damages our relationships, our families, and our work. It fractures our communities and threatens our nation, as well as our world. The insight and empathy so desperately needed for a situation just may not be available when something deep occludes your vision.

But our blindness can be healed. And in every case, it's at least at bottom, a spiritual matter. Spirituality is all about depth and connectedness. It's liberated from the superficial or the alienated. It has counterfeits, of course, that are just in the thrall of other things. But true spirituality is free from such blockage, free from the worst forms of blindness, and therefore free for attaining healthy forms of unity. It's connected with others through kindness, compassion, love, and understanding. Jesus taught its necessity. And so have many other great individuals whose lives we most admire.

Plato urged us to leave the dark cave of delusions and dim appearances to journey in search of the light we need. And so did Pascal. In our time, we need their wisdom more than ever.

Amen?

The Peace of Mind From Living Deeply

Here’s a short conversation I want to share because of its relevance in our current political season. It’s a sneak preview from page 106 in my next book, The Stone of Giza, that’s due out soon, in November. The setting is 1934 in Cairo, Egypt. Thirteen year old Walid and his best friend, the younger but precocious Mafulla, are having breakfast together and talking. You may or may not yet know these characters from the previous books, The Oasis Within and The Golden Palace.

The boys have been talking about the Greek philosophers and their insights about life. The topic of superficiality has come up, and by contrast, what it’s like to live more deeply than just skimming the surface of life.

Walid is in mid-thought when he says:

“I had a talk with Uncle Ali once when he said that maybe life is toughest on the surface and much less difficult for those who live more deeply. It’s like what people say about the ocean.”

“What?”

“That there can be huge waves and churning on the surface, but deep down it’s calm.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. The storms happen on the surface, but not far down below.”

“Oh, yeah. Ok. I see what you’re saying. Maybe people who live more deeply feel the troubles of life less and so have less need for trivial relaxations.”

“Yep. That’s what I’m thinking.”

“So it’s living superficially that wears people out because that’s where all the turbulence is.”

“Yeah.”

“And whenever the surface dwellers do confront anything hard or challenging and try to understand it, however little time they end up spending on that philosophical quest, they just don’t do it right—they don’t know how to because they’re out of their depth—and even a little bit of that sort of thought wears them out completely. And then they go running to something really trivial or superficial for rest.”

Walid pondered this for a moment. “I think you’re right. People who don’t ordinarily live life deeply can get all worked up about the least thing when they’re talking religion or politics or philosophy or life. They get all stressed and emotionally wear themselves out for no good reason. It’s like they think they have to protect themselves by either pushing away the issues or else really defending their opinions, whatever they might be. They get all resistant and hostile, and that’s always exhausting.”

Mafulla nodded and said, “It can get emotional pretty fast.”

Walid continued, “People who act that way just don’t realize that you sometimes have to relax into the search for truth, open your mind, and be ready to embrace a new sense of reality.”

“Good point.”

“There’s no reason to be afraid of new perspectives and new truth. Living in the truth is the best protection of all, the safest thing there is. And anyone who can help me do that, maybe by opening my eyes, or helping me change and correct wrong beliefs or attitudes—that person does me a great favor. And I can’t benefit from others in this way unless I relax a little and listen and really open my mind.”

Mafulla replied, “Yeah, it’s a bit like what Masoon says about judo and using energy in a fight.”

“What do you mean?”

“When someone comes at you, sometimes the best move is to relax and lie back and let the blow develop—don’t resist it, don’t meet it with more force, but let it play out, and then see what’s next. People often debate deep issues in religion and philosophy like they’re fighting for their lives and they’ve got to be tense and forceful, or they just get mad and walk away.”

“That’s true.”

“The strange thing is that it would often be best for them not to do any of that at all, but to be open and allow the new ideas to come, and let them develop and play out and then see what’s next.”

“Yeah. And there’s another thing about the Greeks and us.”

“What?”

“Lots of people, at least as adults, just seem to have no genuine curiosity about the world. The ancient Greeks were wide-open curious about everything.”

“You got that right, my very curious friend and fellow philosopher.”

“Thanks. If people would just let us, we could set them all straight real quick.” Walid looked serious and then grinned.

Flannery O’Connor and The Limits of Political Reasoning

In the early 1940s, a young southern writer by the name of Flannery O’Connor spun a tale about an extremist politician and his base that resonates deeply today.

An election campaign is on for the governorship of a southern state. Every time the mild mannered college teacher Rayber goes to get a shave or a haircut, the men who work in the local barbershop are talking and laughing about their favorite candidate, the wildly racist strongman, Mr. Hawkson, known as “Hawk,” and they often repeat with enthusiasm something outrageous he’s just said at a public rally.

Hawk’s campaign is all bluster and insults. He’s got pet-names for his opponents, diminishing “effeminate” epithets that his followers relish and love to repeat. The head barber at one point says that all his talks are “killeroos,” as he recounts to the roomful of chortling and celebrating men some of their candidate’s most recent racist statements. Rayber is shocked that they’re speaking so crudely while quiet George, a young African American man, sweeps the floor of the shop toward the back. The professor has to speak up.

“A great many people,” Rayber said, “consider Hawk a demagogue.” He wondered if George knew what demagogue meant. He should have said “lying politician.”

“Demagogue!” The barber slapped his knee and whooped. “That’s what Hawk said!” he howled. “Ain’t that a shot! ‘Folks,’ he says, ‘them Mother Hubbards says I’m a demagogue.’ Then he rears back and says sort of soft-like, ‘Am I a demagogue, you people?’ And they yells, ’Naw, Hawk, you ain’t no demagogue!’ And he comes forward shouting, ‘Oh yeah I am, I’m the best damn demagogue in this state!” And you should hear them people roar! Whew!”

Rayber is stunned. He doesn’t know what to say. There are so many issues at stake in this election. There are too many obvious things deeply wrong about this man, Hawk. The progressive but timid college teacher can’t figure out where to start. He wishes the barber would read some things. The man says he doesn’t have to read nothing. All he has to do is think, using horse sense. No big words are going to make any difference. Doesn’t Rayber know that Hawk is gonna keep those other people in their place and make sure everybody like him and the teacher make more money if he’s elected? Rayber tries to point out that a little extra money isn’t going to mean anything if the state collapses under the weight of Hawk’s total incompetence and crazy beliefs. So he vows to defend his own sensible candidate some time soon in the barbershop and enlighten all of them. The barbers laugh more and say that he just can’t use the phrase ‘goodgovermint.’ That’s not allowed, they snicker.

Rayber goes home and writes a two page statement about the vast differences between the candidates. At first, it’s hard. The real issues are so obvious. Where should he begin? How do these men not see such things already? He laboriously writes out what’s wrong with Hawk and what’s right about the clearly better candidate, the reasonable and progressive Darmon. He then takes this little two page speech to a friend, the philosophy professor Jacobs, explains what’s going on, and reads it aloud to practice and get some feedback. The philosopher says, simply, “I never argue.” Rayber insists: But what if you’re right? “I never argue,” Jacobs repeats, knowing the futility of what his friend is attempting.

Our hero goes back to the barbershop and reads his treatise aloud, hoping to refute and reform these men, using the real issues and clear reason. They laugh and laugh and laugh. In the end, he punches the barber and runs out of the shop.

The seventeenth century French scientist Blaise Pascal, as well as the prominent eighteenth century British philosopher David Hume, both understood that, for most people, reason is the servant of passion and can rarely undermine or overturn its commitments. Emotion trumps all. So when a political candidate appeals to the basest and most fundamental fears, resentments, and sources of personal bitterness, no amount or quality of reasoning can possibly make a difference. You either walk away, or someone throws a punch.

It’s a sad commentary on the human condition. And in this classic story, “The Barber,” Flannery O’Connor anticipated well what’s going on in our current presidential election. She captures in the character of Rayber the total confidence of progressives in being right, the accompanying astonishment that anyone could possibly support someone like Hawk, and our often Quixotic approach to any attempt at explaining what’s what and turning things around.

Aristotle believed that politics is about how best to live well together. As such, in principle, political discussion should be among the most ennobling forms of discourse. When I recently suggested this during a breakfast in New York City at a table of corporate leaders overlooking the Statue of Liberty, everyone laughed so suddenly and loudly I thought a few might choke on their eggs. There can clearly be a huge gap between theory and practice. And it's one we're all experiencing quite vividly right now. And yet, despite Rayber’s ratiocinative failure in the story, and my own experience of strict limits in similar efforts throughout the current campaign, I remain stubbornly convinced that cool and sensible reason has a role to play. Or else, our democracy is doomed. And if you happen to disagree, please don’t tell me. I’d hate for somebody to have to get punched.

Anger in Our Time

What's the Number One emotion or attitude right now around the world? If we can trust at least a modicum of what we see and hear across all media these days, it just might be anger, followed at some distance by anxiety. Frustration is common. Disillusionment is widespread, but it's anger that seems to reign supreme in certain geographic areas of the globe, and closer to home in our own political climate. This emotion isn't a fount of hope, a typical building block of success or happiness. And yet, it's everywhere. And it seems that those who harbor it want to inflame it in others. Why?

First, I should acknowledge that there's nothing intrinsically wrong with anger. As Aristotle told us long ago, its rationality is all about such questions as "toward whom, for what reason, in what measure, for how long, and to what end?" Righteous indignation is proper toward the harming of the innocent. I can't imagine a persuasive moral tradition that reserves all judgment and urges us to accept even the worst, most vicious conduct. But, as Aristotle's questions suggest, in order to be reasonable, productive, and even healthy, anger needs to be the temporary reaction to a particular situation that goads us into solving the problem ingredient in that situation, and thus improving things for the better, overall.

Anger that's ongoing is corrosive and destructive. It's a poison. And yet, if a current sampling of Twitter and Facebook provides any reliable indication, there are many people who actually seem to embrace it and relish it in their lives.

C.S. Lewis had this wonderful little story in a book called The Great Divorce, where people in hell are given a bus trip to heaven, where they can look around as tourists. The surprise is that, if they like what they see, they're invited to relocate. The only condition is that they have to give up whatever "sin" or moral flaw kept them out of heaven in the first place. If it was bitterness, or resentment, they have to let it go and put it away for good. If it's greed, or unbridled ambition, they'd have to say goodbye to that. And if it's old fashioned anger as a way of life, they'd simply have to renounce it, cease to fan its flames, and turn away from it as their mode of existence. The surprise is that many people can't manage to accept the offer, however much they seem to value it. Their besetting sins have just become too important to them. They've said, in effect, "Evil, be thou my good." They've grown accustomed to some counterfeit of happiness, and can't let it go, even when faced with the real thing.

How could this be? I've known people of whom it was true. You may have, as well. It's hard for us to experience such negative emotions as disappointment, frustration, despondency, and discouragement. Such emotions can be a swamp, a bog for the soul. When our hopes seem to have been dashed, we often can't stand to endure those victim emotions, feelings that just seem to make our plight worse. So we transform the disappointment or discouragement into anger. We lash out at someone or something outside ourselves as the source of our problems, the cause. We're good. They're bad. And directing our ire outwardly is cathartic. We release all that pent-up energy, throwing it toward someone else. And when we can do so as a group endeavor, it's even better. Misery loves company the most when the crowd all joins together in confirming and reinforcing the anger that's substituted for all those other, harder, emotions. The irate growl together, almost as a sporting crowd would cheer together. And they're actually cheering their own substitution state for those more difficult emotions, or for the yet harder work that actually addressing the challenging situation might require.

The great philosophers join together in recommending that we not do this. Moreover, many suggest that we have compassion for those around us who are choosing this false path. They are taking themselves down a road that doesn't lead to heaven, but to a very different place instead. And they're cultivating a comfort with counterfeits that may one day rob them of their true capacity to love and live in a fulfilled, successful, and even happy way.

So as we see so many fanning the flames of fury around us, we are wise to refuse that road ourselves, and instead work to rectify the sources of the problems that we can, eventually, solve.

The Unconscious Mind: From The Golden Palace

In my new book, The Golden Palace, Chapter 16, there's a discussion of the unconscious mind that's been revolutionary for my own recent thinking and work. I'd like to share it here. The setting is a beautiful sitting room in the royal palace in Cairo, Egypt. The year is 1934. King Ali Shabeezar is speaking to his nephew, Walid, and Walid's best friend, Mafulla.

Ali leaned back on the sofa cushion. He said, “Something just occurred to me. Have you boys ever heard of the unconscious mind?”

“Not really,” Mafulla said, “I mean, I know my mind’s unconscious when I sleep, and sometimes in class.”

“Maybe I’ve heard the expression once,” Walid said, as he smiled at his friend.

“Well, there are many things stored in our minds, like information learned in the past, of which we’re not at this moment consciously aware. It’s in our minds for retrieval, but is not now conscious. There are also habits and dispositions that exist in the mind beyond our introspective self-awareness. You can consciously gaze within and not see them. And this is true of many other things that we take in about the world around us but that remain beneath the sweep of full awareness. We have huge resources in the unconscious mind that are not always quickly or easily available to consciousness.”

“I hadn’t thought about it like that, but this makes sense,” Walid said.

“What’s most important to realize is the perhaps initially surprising truth that the unconscious mind represents the vast majority of our mental possessions and abilities. Our conscious experience is like the very top few stones of the Great Pyramid. The rest of our mental ability is like the remainder of that huge structure, except that, in reality, the difference in the size and scope of those mental areas is much, much bigger.”

“I’d never really thought about that, Your Majesty,” Mafulla said. The king nodded and continued.

“Many things go on in our minds that we never consciously realize. There are patterns and indications picked up by deep processes of recognition within us that may or may not enter our explicit thoughts. But we can train ourselves to be more open to this deeper part of our mental activity. We can get to a point where we allow those otherwise hidden thoughts and hints to flow upward. That way, we become aware of much more than most people ever realize. Inventors do this. So do all great explorers and artists and scholars, and athletes. The most innovative scientists are very good at it. The best warriors like Masoon rely on it. Creativity in any walk of life requires it.”

Walid spoke up. “That’s connected to what we were talking about so much in the desert—the power of our minds.”

“Correct. And, Mafulla, in case you and Walid haven’t spoken of this, he and I talked much about the mind on our trip across the desert. Most people live in a terribly constricted and reduced circle of being. They’re in self-imposed exile from the best that life has for them. They can’t make the right decisions or even see the true possibilities that our world offers unless they access this deeper level of the mind. Exiles from their own greatness, they choose unhealthy relationships, pursue the wrong paths, and generally end up living in various levels of either misery, or emotional deadness. They exist on the most basic level as human beings, but they’re not fully alive.”

The king went on, as he looked over at Walid. “I’ve talked with you a great deal about the power of the mind. But it’s not just that our normal conscious awareness can be powerful. In fact, if it’s cut off from the deeper sources of thought and feeling, it will not be powerful at all. Only when we allow the deep parts of our minds and hearts to percolate upward into consciousness, and also directly touch our actions, can we tap into our true power. And only when conscious thought resonates with these deeper resources will it have its proper impact.”

He sat for a moment in silence, then said, “We have to get beyond the superficial chatter of our normal consciousness. We need to access all that’s available to us beneath the clutter, beyond the chattering voices and distractions of normal thought.” The king smiled. “We need to experience what I like to call the thought beyond thought. That’s where the deep power is.”

“How can we do this?” Walid asked.

“We calm our conscious minds. We relax our bodies and release whatever ordinary thoughts or feelings might be impinging on us. We then become open to allow deeper insights to appear. And they’re always near us, available to us, if we’ll just notice them and take them in. We’ll talk more about this in days to come, but for now, learn to listen carefully to any small thoughts that might seem to play about beneath the surface of your normal consciousness. When one appears, invite it to linger and develop in your mind.”

“This is what you do, Your Majesty?” Mafulla asked.

“Yes, it is. All the time. I want you boys to do this as well, to be sensitive to your inklings and feelings about the situations that develop around us. Never just dismiss these hints that sometimes fleetingly appear from the realm of the unconscious mind. Pay attention to them. They’re worthy of your notice. And then tell each other and me. That way, we can work together powerfully to resist and restrain those who have given in to the downward pull of evil. And that way, we can also make some very good and creative things happen.”

“Ok,” Walid said. “This sounds really important.”

“It is.”

“We’ll try to do exactly as you say.”

“Sure thing, Your Majesty,” Mafulla answered.

“As you seek to tap into your deeper potential, you’ll progressively grow in your ability to do so. It’s like any skilled behavior.”

“I’m sure you’re a master at it, Your Majesty,” Mafulla said.

“It’s very natural for me, and has been for many years. Just remember this. What we can know goes far beyond what most people suppose. And what we can do is just as vast.”

Dreams and Unconscious Creativity

The unconscious mind works in strange and sometimes wonderful ways. The other night, I was awakened by a loud thunderstorm passing over the beach. I law awake in the dark room listening to the booms that echoed over us. Then I fell back asleep and dreamed.

In the dream my old friend Norman Lear was taping some segments for a TV show. He asked me on camera, "Why are so many classic fairy tales so violent?" It was a question I had never been asked, and had never really contemplated. But as a philosopher, you can ask me anything and I'll start thinking about it—even in a dream.

In my most confident dream demeanor, I spontaneously answered that the classic fairy tales, like the grim fables of the Brothers Grimm, and also like many ancient myths and modern superhero stories, serve to prepare young people as well as the rest of us for a world that's challenging, sometimes scary, and always uncertain. These stories are like flight simulators for pilots, who are exposed virtually to every emergency situation imaginable so that in real life, if ever confronted with one, they can respond more calmly and with prior practice as to how to act and what to do. Now, it's not as if we're likely to come across an old lady in the woods who bakes little kids into pies for her oven, or a frightening wolf that's just eaten a grandmother, or a fire breathing dragon. But we will have scares and difficulties and unanticipated challenges in our lives, and we need to be ready to meet and overcome them.

Many old stories prepare us for this. And some give us the assurance or inspiration that we can stand up to danger and prevail, even against terrible odds and awful scenarios.

I woke up from this dream and my answers to the camera amazed at how my unconscious mind had knit together a variety of disparate experiences I had gone through over the previous weeks. My wife and I had been watching a Food Network competition show called Food Network Star, where the contestants trying to get their own television show were often asked to explain something for the first time in front of a camera. Ah. I had also recently been in touch with my old friend Norman Lear, the great television producer and creator. And my wife and I had just watched, back-to-back the movies "Joy" and "The Martian" where individuals are challenged in scary and daunting ways and, against overwhelming odds, manage to prevail. I had just been invited to help out on camera for a television special on superheroes in American history. And I had also been asked to speak to a large group of physicians about dealing with the career stress that results from all the challenges and uncertainties of modern medical practice. And all these unrelated things managed to bring elements into my dream.

That's one of the powers of the unconscious mind—it can knit together apparently unrelated things into insights and ideas we can use right away. It's a great cauldron of creativity. But we have to give it time to work, and then a way to bring its treasures into our conscious minds. Sometimes sitting meditation is just the thing. Sometimes, a mindful walk down the street is all it takes. Getting beyond the chatter and beneath the clutter of our everyday thoughts, moving them aside, turning down the volume, allows the great inventions or discoveries of our unconscious mind to bubble up into consciousness in a way that can often offer great guidance.

Open the door to your unconscious mind, and you may find that you have treasures of wisdom that surprise you.

Art and Social Responsibility

My wife and I were sitting at home and watching a bit of television. I think we had just flipped the channel and there was suddenly an ad for a forthcoming movie, soon showing in your local theater, called Suicide Squad. The new live action DC Comics thriller is about a group of supervillains who are set free from prison to save the world from some major threat. The Joker of Batman fame may be the tame one. But the ad just shows a bunch of people done up as anarchist freaks, heavily armed with an outrageous arsenal of weapons, and jumping over a police car on a city street in the dark of night, on their way to commit some form of mayhem.

I thought, "Really?" Then, "This week? With what's going on in our country right now and around the world?" Do we actually need wild images of crazy people threatening and shooting other people against a great rock sound track and with vibrant colors and heavy attitudes? And Will Smith plays one of them? Our Will Smith? I did a little Googling and saw a trailer that features a scene of Will Smith in prison being beaten viciously by police, or prison guards. Really? That's a good image for our day?

As soon as the commercial was over, and I was sitting there, mouth open at the sheer absurd inappropriateness of what I had just seen, given our current situation in the nation and the world, when a second ad came on, this time for a good old fashioned horror flick, where people are terrorized and killed in normal ways, by ordinary horror film bad guys, and with the standard gore to match. My evening was complete.

Sometimes, I understand why Plato wanted to ban creative artists from the good society. Some of them just seem to have no sense of social responsibility whatsoever.

I once lived next door to a pretty famous architect - Harvard, Berlin, and Bauhaus trained - a minimalist in aesthetics and a true intellectual. He designed some beautiful private homes in his day, if you like concrete and glass. But one day when we were talking, he went on a rant about modern architects and social responsibility. He said, "Have you ever really looked at the Art and Architecture Building at Yale, downtown in New Haven?"

I said, "Yeah, I went to look at it the other day and couldn't find the front door."

He laughed. "That's the problem. Paul Rudolph hated the world and the universe around us the year he designed that building. He specified porous concrete for the surface so that all the dirt and soot of New Haven would collect on the thing and it would look ugly and hideous, reflecting his view of the cosmos around us. They have to sandblast it every few years or it's a mess. And the door is placed to confuse you, like life, he thought."

I was shocked. He continued, "If you're a painter, and buy your own materials, paint what you like. It's up to you. But if your art is in public, like a building, and it's funded by other people, then you have a social responsibility as an artist—and most artists don't get that in the least."

I see all the time what my neighbor meant. Most new novels these days are described as "dark" and "grim" and "bleak" and "disturbing." I think: "THAT'S what we need now? REALLY?"

Don't we need hope and inspiration and wisdom and guidance? What's wrong with those things as the focus of art? Why can't more books and films and television shows give us that and still have high credibility as art?

As I write this, the two most recent news headlines this hour are:

Driver plows through Black Lives Matter Protestors in Illinois

Three Dead in Shooting at Michigan Courthouse

And the American city photo of the hour is this:

We live in a time when we're knee deep in emotional gasoline. We don't need artists running around lighting matches, tossing them down, and laughing at the results, while hoping for the rest of us to keep them in luxury homes far from the fray.

I know. I sound like an old fart. But I had the same belief when I was young. Boycott the bad. Insist on something good. Free speech is great, vital, and the foundation of a democracy. But social responsibility is just as important.

On Life, Age, Loss, Joy, and Learning

Oh, my. If you have 7 minutes and 44 seconds—and who doesn't, unless you happen to be on the wrong side of a firing squad right now, and if that's true, then get off this blog for crying out loud—and if you want a major blessing today—and who doesn't, including anyone facing that firing squad, especially given the fact that it could delay the dreaded action by 7 minutes and 44 seconds, PLEASE watch this short video on my old buddy Norman Lear, where you'll learn how dancing naked in front of a mirror at age 93 just might be the secret to longevity, you'll be delighted, and entertained, and made to think about television today, and age, and loss, and learning.

Click this: http://nyti.ms/29xbgRt And then come back here if you'd like.

I first met Norman when I was 39 and he was 69. I was just beginning to do philosophy beyond the classrooms of Notre Dame, out in the broader world, and we had made contact by telephone. Can you imagine what it was like for a kid who grew up watching All in the Family and debating the issues it raised around the living room to come back to my office one day after a class and press the answering machine and hear, "Tom! This is Norman Lear! Here's my home phone number. Give me a call!" I was just astonished.

Shortly after a bunch of great phone calls, he sent me plane tickets to come visit him at his beautiful vacation house in Vermont, an old home once owned by Robert Frost, then by the abstract artist Kenneth Noland. Its grounds are adjacent to a state forest and are as peaceful as you can imagine. I spent most of a day sitting on the big front porch with Norman and the Dean of the Harvard Divinity School and his wife, and with the co-founders of Tom's of Maine, one of the most ethically and environmentally sensitive consumer products companies of our time. We philosophized all day, and through a great lunch. Mid afternoon, Norman asked me to talk a short walk with him. We ended up lying in the grass on his spacious front lawn, pondering life and creativity. And we laughed a lot.

Then, a short time later, he brought a bunch of television producers to see me speak in front of my first audience of over 5,000 people—all convenience store owners at their national meeting in Las Vegas. We had lunch afterwards and since I was going to speak the next day to the top leadership of Merrill Lynch at a retreat in Santa Barbara, Norman invited me to fly to California with him on his plane, where the conversation continued. He got off in LA and let me have the G4 for the rest of the ride to my destination, and then came up the next day to hear that talk as well, on a different topic. I was due to go to LA for a third presentation the following day, so he offered to take me back with him. We talked and napped and talked more in the back of his limo. Then, after a visit at his amazing home in Brentwood, his driver took me to my next speaking event.

Norman played a big role in my life during those days, with his cheerful encouragement and belief in what I was starting to do as a public philosopher. He helped give me the confidence to leave university life and launch out on an adventure that was in its inception, and even now, nearly unprecedented for an academically trained philosopher in our time. Whenever I was with him, his assistants were taking calls constantly, and Fed Ex was delivering packages every few minutes, it seemed. But I never felt like I had only a fleeting sliver of his attention. His gift to me included full presence, full focus, and uninterrupted conversation of the liveliest and most probing sort. I try to remember that whenever a young person just starting his or her own adventure wants to talk—for advice, wisdom, or just encouragement.

We've kept in touch over the years, in fits and starts. He's called me several times about possibly getting involved in something he was doing. He's made me think, and made me laugh. I just love hearing his voice. Norman turns 94 on July 27. And he's still creating. He has a new show upcoming on Netflix, as well as a documentary of his life about to come out. Happy Birthday, old friend. Continue to learn and dance and create!

The Tree, The Fruit, and The Ladder

Here's a thought that came to me a few days ago and I've pondered it since then.

Imagine for a moment that we can represent true spirituality and even the purpose of our existence in this world as a tall tree. High up in the tree is the fruit that we're here to pick and enjoy. It's life changing. It's meant for us and is the true nourishment we need. But it's beyond our normal reach. So we find or build long, tall ladders we can climb to get to the fruit.

Imagine a positive religion as a ladder, or a life philosophy as one. Any enterprise, any structured activity or array of human activities could be conceptualized as a ladder propped up against that high tree. Some of the ladders may be rickety and dangerous or too short, but some are great and even truly inspired. Perhaps, many are. And you may properly believe that you're on the best one of all, a great ladder that's been explicitly designed for reaching the highest fruit of all. You've been taught how to climb the ladder. And suppose you've learned well. So you climb high. And you've not just mastered the techniques of ascent, you've learned lots of other things along the way because of what you've experienced and seen as you've climbed.

But here's the problem. Many people who climb in search of the ultimate fruit tend to cling tightly to their ladder with both hands. And they won't let go. Ladder climbing has been turned from a means into an end. And that's a problem. When people keep a firm grip on their ladder, some fearfully and with white knuckles, they can't actually reach out for the fruit that awaits them and take it and eat it, and share it with others.

Only those who are willing to let go of the ladder can reach for the fruit. They can still keep their feet firmly planted on its rungs, but they have to reach out beyond its structure with an open hand to get the real treasure they've sought.

And the tragedy, it seems to me, is that many people who have good ladders just become ladder experts, ladder specialists and aficionados. They work on their ladders a lot, and paint them, and polish them, and keep them in good repair. They may even gild them with gold and show them proudly to others. But when they climb, they simply cling and don't reach out for what's really the purpose of the climb.

The moral of this little metaphor is, of course, simple. Find a great ladder and climb high. But then learn to let go enough to reach for the fruit that's the real point of the climb. Life, after all, isn't about the ladder, but ultimately the fruit.

Democracy and Education

When I was a first year graduate student at Yale, I once sat at a picnic table somewhere in New Haven, Connecticut, by myself, and worried about American democracy. I had just read the famous book by C. P. Snow, The Two Cultures. In it, he talks about the fact that, at the time, most elected British politicians were trained in the humanities, and yet most of the compelling issues of the day involved science. He wondered how people unprepared to understand the intricacies of science could possibly make the right decisions regarding research funding and policy, and the laws that ought to govern the development and use of technology.

As I sat at that small table outdoors, it suddenly struck me that a representative democracy like ours essentially depends on education. People can’t vote well for the right governmental representatives to decide issues of great complexity and import unless they understand those issues. At the time, in 1974, there were more and more reports of the decline of education in American. I remember the moment it occurred to me: Our national founders created a system that depends on an educated electorate. Without a broad and liberal education, we can never be well positioned to make wise decisions on fraught and complex matters, and we inevitably will be extremely vulnerable to shyster politicians who say what they need to say to get into a position where they can do what they secretly want to do.

We need to be extremely careful in this election cycle, because, as philosopher Bertrand Russell once said, in a democracy, we get the leaders we deserve. He added that the stupider the leaders are, the stupider yet the people were to elect them.

We need to take note.

What Moves Us Deeply?

I'm a fairly emotional person, but I've never teared up over a great business deal. I've smiled. I've laughed with pleasure. I may have gotten all tingly. But in such a setting, I've never had to rub my eyes or reach for a hanky. No tear has ever trickled down my cheek from the successful negotiation of a great contract or a big sale. And yet, I often get misty-eyed when I see other forms of human excellence. Why is this?

Just the other night on America's Got Talent, a show I haven't followed over the seasons, but that I happened to linger on while flipping channels, I had such an experience. A thirteen-year-old girl walked tentatively onto the stage and then amazed us all with her voice. Laura Bretan was cute, sweet, and humble in every way. And she looked so very young on that big platform. But her vocal abilities instantly took the audience to a new place. Everyone rose to their feet.  It was almost a spiritual experience. Simon Cowell said that in all his years, he had never seen anything quite like it.

In case you missed the performance, it's well worth a few minutes on YouTube. And make sure the Kleenex is nearby, if you're at all like me.

Maybe I'm just an emotional mess. But, almost like Robert DeNiro's character in Analyze This, I tend to get weepy at certain things. I don't sob and honk my nose, but I feel the tear ducts awaken, and sense a moistness around my eyes. I may even get a little choked up. It's a bit harder to speak for few moments. I think my sensibilities are much more selective than DeNiro's were in the famous film. But they still range over many things. I get misty when I see real courage in action, and wonderful acts of kindness. I tear up at exceptional displays of human excellence when they rise above expectations and somehow capture elusive aspects of beauty or goodness. An example of self-giving love that's shown in extraordinary ways can get to me and move me deeply.

What touches us in such situations? It may be something that's deeply of the soul, or at the core of the human spirit—even something of virtue, in the classical sense. The Greek word ARETE (Aratay), which can be translated as excellence or as virtue, may come close to capturing at least part of it.

It's especially moving when ordinary people rise above our common experience and in their actions reflect something that's both high and deep, something truly inspiring that hints at perhaps why we're here, and what we're all supposed to be living in our own ways and with our own opportunities. It's as if these moments remind us of the special wonders and mysteries of life that the daily grind can hide from us. And thus, they speak to us. Yes, that's why we're here. Yes, there's real beauty. Yes, there's genuine love. Yes, there's much more out there, or in here, in our souls, for us to embrace and live and enjoy.

So the next time you see something that moves you and you reach for the Kleenex, remember that it can also be a moment to reach for the stars, and aim high in your own life, with your own talents and opportunities, and in your own potential impact on those around you. Let the moment reconnect you to something great and reinforce the best that's in you.

Philosophy's Bad Rap and a Slightly Better One

Philosophy has a bad reputation as remote from the world—arcane, esoteric and impractical. And you can certainly philosophize in that way. But I don't recommend it. In my view, the best philosophy searches out and embraces the deepest wisdom for living and working in the world.

My new philosophy friend Ryan Stelzer, co-founder of the Boston based philosophical consulting firm Strategy of Mind, just posted a nice piece on LinkedIn about how the top fashion designer Brunello Cucinelli uses philosophy and great literature to enhance the life of his business, by sparking the lives of his associates. Cucinelli started his firm with an investment equal to about $550 US dollars and now has a personal wealth of over a billion. And he does things the right way. His success displays the wisdom of good philosophy, well applied. In fact, he often cites the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius as among his favorite philosophy books.

In a fun reply to Stelzer's nice essay, I did a quick rap recommending philosophy. And just now, I augmented my silliness to make it clear that I'm not puffing just any philosophy, but only the good stuff. I've blogged poems, essays, book reviews, quotes and tweets before. So here's my first rap. Do this in the voice of Wyclif Jean or your favorite kindred performer, for full effect. So Ok then. Turn up the speakers, and go:

Cucinelli style philosophy is, you know, a part of me, even more than luxury, a necessity in complexity if you see the humanity of a wisdom trip, better than a cool sip of bubbly Moet down in hot San Tropez, live another day with the insights of the ages and the thoughts of all the sages, if you look in the book that has the right hook you can throw out the crook who might have shook you and be shocking you and blocking you with his big Mercedes—go and tell the ladies that the tonic is Platonic and you can please with Socrates every day that you play with philosophy to make the rules and leave the fools who think it’s all just numbers don’t you ever wonder what kind of thunder will come from going deep with thoughts that keep coming at us all these years, overcoming fears, wiping tears, and making for careers—whatever you’re selling, whether grape jelly or Brunello Cucinelli.

Word. When I plug philosophy it’s the best and not the rest I use to feather up my nest but it’s sad how the bad sometime gets prime whether you’re a penny or a dime and takes the heart outa you and what you do since it got a wrong start with old Descartes who put that horse before the cart and laid it all on me, but with him it was he, the ego don’t you know that cogito where it then ergo starts to blow the whole thing up, and ‘sup with that, I smell a rat and take it to the mat cause that ego ain’t no amigo, just be free go back to Plato and a full throttle OG my man Aristotle—you got to bottle that stuff and be tough with true blue virtue and I’ll just geek and give the Greek, ARATAY is the word for the day and that’s how you say it, live it, give it, play it for Rene and we can see a better way and you know, hey, ditch the Yugo and gimme dubs I’m a Maserati hero wrapped up in Cucinelli. Yo.

How to Argue Well

With kindness, care, and a smile when possible, knowing the world will still turn if you persuade no one at all.

Listen first. Then listen more. Hear beyond what’s said. Empathize. Then make your case with understanding.

Focus on truth, not ego. Let the light shine through your words to illumine and not blind others.

Tell a story that says it all. Reason works best with imagination's help.

Invite others to see things as you already can. Then accept their invitation to perhaps see more.

Raise your voice only when you're in front of a very large group and are without a microphone.

Suggest. Don't insist.

Respect people, regardless of what you think of their positions.

It should never be about winning, just discovering and sharing.

Seek Truth, Beauty, Goodness and, ultimately, Unity.

Use logic and love in equal measure.

The Lion King in All of Us

I saw the Lion King on Broadway last night. It was, of course, amazing. I first saw it with my wife and children right after it premiered in 1997. Last night, we took our granddaughter. And I thought it was even better as a show, which is testimony to a rare grip on the processes needed for extraordinary results over time.

In addition to the costumes, sets, lighting, music, and great acting and dance, the storyline was gripping in its simplicity. A young lion experiences tragedy, goes away, finds new friends, grows, learns, and then confronts a challenge of self knowledge. Who is he, really? What does he want? He discovers that he needs to return to his homeland and face a big challenge to reclaim his proper place in the world. This of course is the arc of the hero's journey. Leaving, learning, and leveraging that new knowledge for heroic results.

We should ask ourselves: Where am I in that adventure? Where am I in that arc? What new knowledge do I need, what new growth, what new challenge? How can a sense of self and even destiny play its proper role in my next steps? 

Each of us has our own way to roar.

The Power of What You Wear

When I was a graduate student at Yale and got my first part time job teaching at the nearby University of New Haven, I was really nervous about commanding a classroom by myself. I had no track record as a teacher. I had no evidence I could be great at this. It's one thing to be a top learner, and another to pass it on, although as I was later to learn, the two are deeply connected. We never really master something at the deepest level until we've taught it to others. But that's another blog.

At the time I was an avid runner. I did about six miles a day through the woods of Connecticut. And it made me feel great. After hours of intellectual work in the morning, I'd lace up my New Balance running shoes and go out on the road where I'd often experience the first exhilaration of the day. After ten or fifteen minutes, I'd be inwardly flying, in total flow, and expanding my consciousness. It was great. My enjoyment of those runs was such that even lacing up my shoes beforehand gave me a confident tingle of anticipation forthe great stuff that was soon to come.

I don't know how I decided to do it, but it occurred to me one day that I had this great pair of light tan tall leather hiking boots. I decided I'd wear them to teach, and that each day, as I laced them up and tied them on, I'd visualize a great class, smiling students, laughs, intellectual revelations, and a great experience had by all. It got to the point where just putting on those boots gave me a sense of power and confidence. They became my superhero boots.

Years later, I was a professor at Notre Dame. Like most of my colleagues, I taught in wrinkled khakis and tennis shirts, wearing whatever shoes the weather demanded. But one semester while I was on leave of absence, which was a coveted opportunity to focus on creative work, I was supposed to write a couple of books. And it wasn't happening. I'd sit down and draw a blank. And this went on day after day. My mother had modeled some in her youth, and often bought me suits I'd never wear, except when it was really necessary. One day, it came to me out of the blue that maybe if I dressed up in a suit and tie before showing up to write, I'd be taking myself more seriously as a writer. So I did. And the wildest thing happeed. Ideas poured forth. The muse liked what I had on. So I continued the practice.

Then when I returned to the classroom, I decided that I'd show my students special respect by dressing up for them. Their presence became the special occasion. And they loved it. At the time, it was very different for a professor my age to show up in a suite and tie, or s sport coat and bright bow tie. I then brought into the classroom the new power I had discovered in the study while writing. When I dressed like it was an important occasion, it became one. And I found new power for the challenge.

Does this always work? Some new psychological studies seem to indicate there may be more to it than we might suppose. There's been a recent claim that wearing a suit may even help you think in a more formal and abstract way, transcending the details of what you confront and reaching out creatively to new insights.

Of course, I'm telling you this as I sit at my desk in a crazy tie-dyed T shirt and khaki shorts. So, don't get carried away. But still, consider that how you dress may send signals, not only to others, but also to your own subconscious. And perhaps you can set up the signals as I've done a few times in my life. Then, when you're entering an uncertain or challenging situation, those shoes, or that suit, or that lucky tie may just give you a boost.

So, maybe I need to go change.

Dan Lyons, "Disrupted," and Startup Culture

I just read Dan Lyons' new book Disrupted: My Misadventures in the Startup Bubble. The first half of the book had me laughing out loud, again and again. The second half had me worrying about current dangers to rational business culture, and our overall economy.

Dan was a senior tech editor and writer at Newsweek, following a stint at Forbes. He had interviewed and met many of the main players in the tech world over the years, and pretty much thought he had a good feel for what was going on in the realm of tech startups. Young people were creating companies with sometimes crazy ideas, making serious money in the early funding stages, and finally real fortunes in taking those companies public, whether they ever made a profit or not. When Dan's job was terminated at Newsweek, he decided to enter into this world where big money could be made. He was hired by a Boston company called HubSpot. And the book is about his surprising time there.

When I first read the great novel Don Quixote, I remember thinking that some people would see the title character as the paradigm of a creative visionary, seeing things that others could never even dream or imagine. They would become Sancho Panzas of the Don, excited loyal followers hoping to get their own little island of fantasy rewards from faithfully following along on the journey. Others, of course, would view Senior Quixote right away as an unhinged madman, a delusional character who will easily ruin the life of anyone crazy or gullible enough to follow him.

Lyons' new book raises some interesting questions about the errant knight-founders of the current technology world. Who is a true visionary and who's just a madman? And, oh yeah, who might be simply an ordinary charlatan, but now with extraordinary tools of deceit? No one is riding an old horse or a small donkey, and "tilting at windmills." They're all riding the wave of the future, and many are getting crazy rich off the gullibility, hopes, and ambitions of others.

What struck me about Lyons' experiences is that he was exposed to grandiosity, silliness, incompetence, petty nastiness, cluelessness, craziness, well disguised cynicism, and even perhaps a real depth of psychopathic and sociopathic evil in the workplace. And it all, rolled together, makes some people rich.

We live in an unusual time, where magical thinking, new age superstition, hyperbole, and good old fashioned cheer-leading mixed in with a cultural expectation on the part of many younger people that everything should be entertaining and fun, all conspire together to allow our current Don Quixotes to become Pied Pipers on a massive scale. And of course, we see the Dons in contemporary politics as well as business, on every level.

The current snake oil salesmen don't work out of the backs of wagons or old trucks preaching the virtues of their elixirs to rubes on the street. They start companies, find VC funding, and create fun places to work where all their carefully selected Sancho Panzas can toil in hopes of "changing the world," or enriching themselves along the way.

I've been writing about the opposite way of running a business since the mid-nineties, in books such as True Success,  If Aristotle Ran General Motors and If Harry Potter Ran General Electric. And I happen to like fun, even silly fun every now and then. But I like even more business cultures that are built on the ancient transcendent ideals of Truth, Beauty, Goodness, and Unity - not as slogans, but as realities of day to day work. I believe in the Aristotelian virtues, the deepest elements of the Tao, and the Christian core concept, nearly lost today, of the power in humility.

I believe in real wisdom. And I see the slick criminals and grandiose madmen of our time as using faux wisdom, the counterfeits of real insights, and a deceptive rhetoric wrapped around genuine human needs to forward their own agendas and line their own pockets. As a philosopher who has been fighting for the right approaches for decades now, I urge younger thinkers to join me in providing the true knowledge and authentic insight that's needed by modern business, as we swim a sea now of not only sharks, but poisonous conceptual pollution as well.

Dan Lyons' book is an entertaining and eye-opening wake up call to anyone who cares about the deeply positive role that good business can play in the modern world. When you run into a modern Don Quixote recruiting your work, or soliciting your investment, or appealing for your business with sky-high rhetoric, you would be best off running in the opposite direction. Don't be misled.