Worth Dying For? Worth Living For.

Socrates was given a choice: Stop talking philosophy with people, or die. He chose the surprising option. He said, "As long as I live and breathe, I will never stop philosophizing."

Wait. What?

In a broad survey of people today, and given two choices, you would probably find most checking the box that said, "As long as I live and breathe, I will never start philosophizing." How could so many have lost sight of something that, in the opinion of one great and wise person, is worth dying for?

Well, what is philosophy, anyway? The word's etymology, from Greek, simply means, "Love of Wisdom." Philo - Love of; Sophia - Wisdom. And wisdom, in the last analysis, is just insight for living, the deep understanding that alone can guide us well through the adventure we're on.

Think about it for a second. An object of love: When you lack it, you pursue it. When you have it, you embrace it. Philosophy is just the pursuit and embracing of wisdom - insight for life.

How important is it? The book of Proverbs claims its worth is beyond that of gold and jewels. Socrates himself said that the unexamined life - the life without wisdom - is not worth living.

How then do you pursue wisdom? How do you embrace it?

Socrates believed that every day we're given the choice - to philosophize, or to die. If we make the wrong choice, if we're not growing in wisdom, we're not really living, we're just fading away, however active and full our lives may seem. Appearances, as he also taught us, aren't always the best guides to reality.

Choose well, then. Choose philosophy. Pick the life worth living.

Novel Insights: Part Two - The Life of Pi

One more day of insights from the novel, The Life of Pi, before I either donate my copy to the local library or find a more permanent place for it on a shelf here. I'm glad I looked at it before dropping it into a donation box! It's been nice to see my markings and annotations throughout. Let me share just a few more insights from it today.

Pi Patel, as you may know, the narrator, was going through a harrowing experience. He writes:

I would have given up - if a voice hadn't made itself heard in my heart. The voice said, "I will not die. I refuse it. I will make it through this nightmare. I will beat the odds, as great as they are. I have survived so far, miraculously. Now I will turn miracle into a routine. The amazing will be seen every day. I will put in all the hard work necessary ..."

Too often, the voice in our heads give us worries, problems, and obstacles. It's unsure. It's highly anxious. It doubts. But the voice of the heart can be another thing, altogether. The heart is the most ancient metaphor for the inner core we all have, where perception, reason, intuition, and resilience reside. Listen to your heart, and you will often get just the message you need to turn the rare miracle into routine, and see the amazing every day. 

I must say a word about fear. It is life's only true opponent. Only fear can defeat life. It is a clever, treacherous adversary, how well I know. It has no decency, respects no law or convention, shows no mercy. It goes for your weakest spot, which it finds with unerring ease.

Pi then goes on to describe how often fear begins with a small doubt in the mind, which grows into great anxiety in the emotions, and then moves farther into the body, gripping us in all ways. Reason itself is no match for it. He says:

Quickly you make rash decisions. You dismiss your last allies: hope and trust. There, you've defeated yourself. Fear, which is but an impression, has triumphed over you.

What can we do? He doesn't say much, only characterizing fear as, in the end, a wordless darkness, and giving us this advice:

You must fight hard to shine the light of words upon it.

Pop psychologists talk a lot about the power of positive self-talk. It's easy to dismiss this as simplistic hokum. But the deeper we go, the more we understand the power of words, well used, to counter the irrational. Speak to yourself in the quiet of your mind in positive ways, and you can dispel the fog of fear. It's not easy. But it can work.

The book is full of other insights, but these are probably enough for our purposes.

Why do we read? For entertainment, certainly, but also for wisdom. I'm always deeply gratified to find real wisdom in an entertaining book. It's rare enough. But when it comes, we can delight, and we can learn.

The Philosophical Selfie

In our Age of Selfies, the most important kind, not to be overlooked, is the philosophical selfie.

Inscribed in marble at the holiest spot in ancient Greece, the Oracle at Delphi, was the advice: Know Thyself. It's probably the most famous piece of advice ever given, it could be the shortest, and it might even be the hardest. But it's the central key to living well in the world, and becoming the people we're capable of being. It's hard to get where we need to go if we don't know where we are now. And self-knowledge is the starting point for any GPS of the Soul.

Consider your soul, the deep you. Pick one of the options in each of these questions, and say why:

Are you solid, liquid, or gas?

Are you animal, vegetable, or mineral?

Are you straight-lined or curved?

Are you still or moving?

Are you music, painting, sculpture, or lit?

Are you mountains or sea?

Are you heart or mind?

Are you a stormy day, a gentle rain, or a sunny blue sky?

Are you summer, fall, winter, or spring?

Are you forever young, or mature beyond your years?

I've given you these questions, silly on the surface, but deeper as you probe them, almost as an act of stream-of-consciousness on my own part. I could have come up with others. You can, too. But these will do to make my point.

Self-knowledge doesn't just grow like grass, or hair. It's not a naturally occurring phenomenon, or we wouldn't have to be encouraged to make it happen. It requires reflection, examination, contemplation, and that can all take forms that are both serious and silly - as long as you're genuinely trying to dig a bit deeper in your own self-awareness.

You may come up with your own questions, or you can play with these. What do they tell you about you? Any serious answers you arrive at can help with your journey now, and next.

Knowing yourself may not be the easiest thing in the world, but it could be the most productive.

So, take that selfie now.

What is Bling?

Is bling a crude, tawdry exhibition, an aggressive socio-economic and cultural statement, or merely a simple and joyous celebration? Is it ironic? Or aspirational? Is it innocent? Or hostile? Is it playful? Or serious? Immature? Or artistic? Obnoxious? Or Fun?

Is it spiking the ball in the end zone, or could it be singing because you're happy?

How, exactly, is it related to glamour? Where is it situated within the realm of the aesthetic?

Is it a neighborhood within the province of luxury? Or is it on another part of the map?

Is it inherently visual, or could even the blind enjoy some bling?

I've blogged recently about the broad concept of luxury, a couple of times. And it suddenly occurred to me that I should ponder the contemporary phenomenon of bling.

Why not?

So I began today's post with the philosophical question, or set of questions. What exactly is it? Is there one answer? And here's a follow up question: Is it bad, or is it good?

And if it's bad, then how bad? But if, by contrast, it's good - how good?

Can it be either? And if so, depending on what?

What do you think?

And if you're the rare individual who has to go to Bing and type in Bling, then maybe this is just not ... your Thing.

In case you'd like more than questions today, maybe I should venture my own answers to what's already been asked. I'd say, "Yes" to almost all the queries that allow for such an answer, however apparently opposite, and to the options within the questions, and simply explain that it all depends on the individual, the intention, and the context. But then again, that's true of lots more, as well.

This is an interpretive guide to many expressions, actions, and displays: Consider, if you can, the individual, the intention, and the context. That's usually all it takes. The intention is always the toughest to know, and sometimes, even in your own case.

What's your bling? How would you define it for yourself?

My bling is a bright yellow watch on a matching yellow band that I wear to the gym most days. When people say, and it happens often, "Whoa! I like that watch!" I enjoy responding, "Thanks! Four dollars and ninety five cents," and relish seeing the reaction.

It's just my own little transmuted bling with a bang.

When a Sip of Wine is Much More.

Oh! The unexpected depths! The intense aromas! The rich bottomless structure, and yet ethereal smoothness! The mouth feel! The surprise of its all-enveloping engagement of the senses! And: The perfect match for a small burger. Or two.

I opened a bottle of wine this past weekend that practically jumped out of the glass. Or maybe what happened is that it almost pulled me into the glass. We had a mystical experience together, in any case, the two of us - and that's for sure.

I was just cooking hamburgers and wanted something good to go with them. I had no idea.

I really didn't know anything about the Schrader 2006 Beckstoffer To Kalon Vinyard pictured above, except that I'd had it squirreled away for a long time, and basically forgotten about it, but when I happened to come across it, I sort of vaguely remembered having really enjoyed another of their bottles years ago. So I picked it up, carried it into the kitchen, and popped it while the bacon was still sizzling in the old black, cast iron skillet, prepping the surface for the burgers.

Oh, man.

Have you ever had a well-made Napa Cab that you almost didn't have to drink? The nose enough was sufficient to engage you down to your soul, not to mention your toes? You just breathe deeply and say, "Oh, My! Oh Gee!" Or some more colorful linguistic equivalent thereof. And then you go running across the room or down the hall to share it:

"Hey! Take a Whiff of This! Can you believe it? Yeah! Take a Taste! Go ahead!"

And then you delight in the look of ecstasy on the face of your spouse, friend, neighbor, or whomever you handed the glass to.

Down the rabbit hole, through the looking glass, behind the wardrobe and into Narnia. Mr. Tumnus! You make an incredible cab!

Quality counts. Passion, care, and world-class expertise pay off.

When something stands apart in an immensely crowded field, you take notice. It evokes a rare sort of respect, and genuine admiration.

Whenever I come across anything of such excellence, it makes me redouble my own commitment to quality. It reminds me of the difference that makes. And it makes me grateful once more to share the planet with some other people who care about what they do.

I can be inspired by almost anything that displays excellence of the highest caliber. In fact, I was inspired by the first moment of aromas wafting forth from the glass. Not even the bacon in the pan could mask the magic that leapt up to my nose and reeled me in like a fish on a line.

Inspiration.

What, recently, has inspired you?

For those who are reading this here at my website, rather than on LinkedIn, I have an extra word or two. This Schrader was like a recent Futo and my first really great cab, a 2001 Shaeffer Hillside Select. Also in this category are a Colgin I had a while back, and a few Herb Lamb Cabs. Tell me what you like! In Vino, Veritas.

What Is It To Exist?

Today, let's just get wild. Let's be spooky. Let's dig deep.

I just got this email, which I quote with a big blush, since it's so nice, but it asks a very deep question, and asks it well. It will also give you an idea of the sort of emails I get that don't fit into the "how to run a company, build an exceptional career, or deal with daily life" genres, but that can keep someone awake at night.

Dear Dr. Morris.

I am a joyous follower and admirer of you and your work, both philosophical and otherwise. I think you are a wonderful human being, and a great philosopher and writer. As such, I am led to ask you a very deep and pressing question, and share with you a problem I've encountered dealing with it.

Questions: What exactly does it mean for something to exist? What is existence itself?

I asked thus because yesterday I was in a conversation with a friend, and he proposed that the only things that actually exist are those that meet these criteria:

1. Occupy space and time,

2. Be detectable by natural means,

3. Have some energy signature of sorts.

I tried thinking of objections to those criteria but was blank. The only such I offered was God, and abstract entities, which he said were the only things his criteria ruled out. (He's an atheist). So the question is, should existence be limited to things that meet those criteria, and if not, why not? And can you please provide a substantiative working definition of the term.

Thanks for sparing your time. Regards,

Shawn Wilson

MY ANSWER, PART ONE:

Hi Shawn! Thanks for your kind words! Let me get back to you later today.

But a quick initial consideration: My first thought is that your friend seems certainly adamant that, among the realities of the world, among the things that exist and with which we have to do are his own Three Criteria for Existence - for, surely, if they didn't exist, we wouldn't have to worry about them! But then, for them to exist, in accordance with their own demands, they must:

1. Occupy space and time,

2. Be detectable by natural means,

3. Have some energy signature of sorts.

Oops. There's an obvious problem here. Understanding that we're dealing with criteria, or requirements, which are intellectual things, rather than ink on paper, words in the air, or pixels on a screen, they seem to fail their own requirements for existing. And that's quite odd, isn't it? It's what philosophers call self-defeating, and therefore not possibly true.

More later! Tom

SECOND REPLY, HOURS LATER:

Hi again, Shawn.

One definition, from a theistic perspective would be this:

(A) To exist is to be an absolute creator or a creation.

Simple. But of course, your friend won't like that. Yet, that's no criticism of the definition itself, is it?

A more abstract philosophical conception would be this:

(B) To exist is to participate in causal or other metaphysical relationships.

An even more abstract definition could be this:

(C) To exist is to be differentiated in some way from nothingness, where that differentiation consists in something more than a mere contingent and fanciful conceptual configuration (ruling out such things as magic blue dragons in my backyard and kiddie-story unicorns  existing in the same sense as cars and dogs, and just by being conceived).

Clearly, these are tests that even current members of Congress could all pass with flying colors. And none of these definitions confines existence to the ordinary physical entities with which we're familiar, like tables, chairs, cars, dirt, and shoe laces. They don't rule out God, or spiritual beings, or abstract objects like numbers, or qualities, or intellectual conditions like themselves.

The challenge to your friend is to show how his criteria are superior to all of these. And he'll face a simple problem: He can't. Moreover, none of these criteria suffers the self-defeating problem that his three-fold standard confronts. They satisfy their own demands. They are generous and yet not vacuous. They're intuitive, and not prejudicial as to what wonders there might be that we have not yet even imagined. I hope this helps.

I want my ontology, or conception of what exists, to be, in principle, as broad and inclusive as this amazing, surprisingly rich reality in which we live. I want to acknowledge that love exists, and opportunity, and potential, and the soul - not just material things like grass and rocks and atoms. And no one has ever given me a sufficient reason to shrink my philosophy to fit the view that natural science alone gives us the inventory of reality.

Existing ... in your debt for a good question, I am

Your Philosopher,

TVM

The Inner Game of Everything

Imagine two outer actions, which would appear exactly the same to an onlooker. In one case, the act springs from a routine in a job that's long lost its luster. And if we could walk into that office and ask the guy involved in that action, he might tell us that he was excited about his job at first. It was his big break. It was an entry level job, but in a big company. The building was beautiful. His colleagues were smart and ambitious. He seemed to have his foot firmly in the door of greatness. But the culture around him soon became clear. It was all about the sale, all about the money. Profits were the air they breathed. But breathing that air, and only that, every day over time, had taken a toll. He had lost the true excitement of the early days. The enchantment was gone. It had gradually become a matter of pressure, and routine. He now still kept up the pace, and all relevant appearances, and did the work, but it was almost automatic, and without any inner soul.

The other guy, across town, the one performing apparently the same outer action - say, reaching for a phone, or filling out a form, or making an entry into his computer - lives and works each day with a strong sense of purpose, and a real passion for what he's doing. He's with great people who think and feel the same way. They have a camaraderie and a sense of mission for the work they do. They're building something new together. They're making a difference.

I submit that the two identical looking actions of these different individuals are really not the same at all. One of the actions is ennobled by the inner state from which it springs. The other is not. And this is not some flaky mumbo-jumbo mysticism. It's a difference that makes a difference. One action embodies something almost magical, and it will, eventually, if not right away, have seriously different results, on many dimensions, regardless of how small an act it is.

I've come to think that it's the inner that's always definitive of the outer, in everything. When the spirit is right, the enterprise is just different, and vastly more. Plato distinguished clearly between appearance and reality. We should all do so, as well. No matter what the appearances might be, it's what bubbles up inside us, what animates us in our minds and hearts, that makes all the difference.

Inner purpose, real passion, and the sort of commitment that embodies a spark of nobility simply brings something different into the world. Don't you think?

What will animate your actions today?

The Power of Old Books

If you read what everyone else is reading, you'll tend to think what everyone else is thinking, which can lead you to do what everyone else is doing. And that certainly won't set you apart.

We've all noticed the way best selling-books on business or life can change what's on people's minds and their to-do lists. Fads develop and sweep the world of business, until the next one comes along. And at each stage, at some point, you come to realize that what you thought would give you an advantage and make you stand out has been adopted by all your competition, and your new trick has become the standard used by all, leveling the playing field just when you thought you'd be summiting the mountain.

As C. S. Lewis once said, the only way to break out of the thought patterns of the present and get some truly novel ideas would be either to read the books of the future, or the books of the past. The books of the future are, inconveniently enough, not yet available to us. Therefore, we should read books of the past.

In an era where everyone is trying to make the leap from good to great, there are a few who attain the status of legendary. And that never happens by just doing a little better what everyone else is doing. It requires some revolutionary twist. And how does that get sparked? I've found that it's often people who feed their minds on something different, whose own thinking then becomes interestingly different, and, on occasion, even revolutionary.

So, my advice, on this Sunday morning, is to go find a book of the past to read. Some that have meant a lot to me recently are Gilgamesh, the story of a rich, powerful, handsome king in 2700 BCE who went from being an exploitative tyrant to becoming a good leader, building things to last. How? The old epic tale tells the story. Then, there's Beowulf, a great classic cautionary tale about a powerful achiever and slayer of monsters who made one crucial and all too common mistake that cost him everything. You want to avoid it? Read the book. Or try Frankenstein, Mary Shelley's amazing tale of goal setting gone bad. Who knew that Dr Frankenstein, through a turbulent mix of classic hubris, outsized ambition, self-centeredness and fear, could create a nightmare which he tried to solve, not by doing the right things, but by becoming a motivational speaker!

If you have more time, Don Quixote may be the greatest novel of all time. Is he the ultimate paradigm of the ideal visionary now beloved by the tech world and VCs everywhere, or a stark raving madman to be avoided at all costs? Or look at Moby Dick. If you can stomach all the whale blubber, you get a tale of a captain who is supposed to steer the ship to profits for its owners, but takes it over for his own purposes and ruins everything. Short of time to read?  The great Roman stoic Seneca has some of the greatest advice ever in his letters and essays.

Then, there's the Manual of Epictetus, the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius, and Xenophon's captivating and amazing book on leadership, The Education of Cyrus. 

I could go on. But I have to go read something old. Meanwhile, have a great day.

Starting The Day With Nature

My wife invited me to join her outside this morning for breakfast. It was a perfect temperature. The sun was shining brightly, already warming the cloudless, clear blue sky, but we were in refreshingly cool shade. Water bubbled and gurgled nearby. The birds were enjoying their normal chaotic chorus of morning cheer. Our dogs were on a silent hunt for green lizards in the plants and gardens around us.

There's something about the freshness of the morning outdoors. It clears my head and, augmented by a little black coffee, or a lot, prepares me for the day.

Like most people, I spend most of my working hours inside. But philosophers really have no schedule on normal days, so I can take breaks frequently and go outside. And I recommend that heartily. So much of our lives now is spent indoors - for most people, it's an endless cycle with various repetitions from the house to the car to the office to the gym to the office to the car to a store, or maybe a restaurant, and then back home, with only the briefest interludes of fresh air and any contact with nature. One of my favorite things to do is to get into a pool, mid morning, or zen walk in the neighborhood for a couple of miles, right before dinner, just taking it all in. You don't have to be Thoreau to realize the importance of a little nature dip every day.

Nature has this way of awakening creative thoughts. I was once in a pool at a resort in Scottsdale, Arizona, the day before I was to give a talk to a large group of executives, and I had to jump out of the water, run into the spa building nearby, and ask for as much paper as they could give me. Armed with legal pads, I returned to the pool area and sat and wrote three book chapters that had suddenly poured into my head as I relaxed under the desert sky.

One of my favorite things is a walk on the beach nearby, at low tide, on the firmly packed sand. The sounds of the waves and seabirds form a background soundtrack for what almost always becomes either a rush of creative thought, or a refreshing meditative experience.

How do you get a small dose of nature each day?