Postcard from Portugal, 2024


I’ve been away for a while. Here is the story of some of what I was doing during that time.

POSTCARD FROM PORTUGAL 2024

Maps present a landscape, but writing about a place re-represents a place as it was experienced, the feel of a place as it registered in one’s muscles and bones. If we experience space as an idea, we experience places through sensory impressions – the seen, heard, smelled, felt, tasted. As I began to write about our journey on the Douro River starting in Porto, Portugal, it struck me that we were back in the country where these travelogues I call “postcards” began more than thirty years ago. Like the blast of a ship’s whistle or the click-click clack of train wheels, travel can be insistent. The minute you leave home it starts demanding that you tell its story. It tugs at your elbows. It becomes a daily pest. For me, at least, travel is more than a series of sights. It is a change that goes on, in the words of St. Augustine, deep and permanent in the ideas of living.

Miki and I both enjoy river cruises for the small ships, easy access to the land, the ability to sleep in the same room for a week, and most important for her, the lack of mal de mer, the dreaded sea sickness. (The irony of a man who loved sailing and skiing choosing a mate who is intolerant of both is not lost on me.) This was my fifth river cruise and the fourth with Emerald, and we were running out of European rivers. Despite having traveled around most of Portugal on prior occasions, we never managed to get to Porto, the country’s second largest city. My son and sister in law had been there, and they had nothing but good things to say about the city. Our own experience substantiates their assessment. We flew in a day before our ship, the Emerald Radiance sailed, giving us a chance to walk about and see some of the city sights. Our hotel located in Ribeira in the center of the old city, just a block from the Douro River and its many cafes and restaurants, gave us easy walking access to many of the nearby attractions. Rightly famous for its 20,000 tiles arranged to depict episodes of local history, the Estacao de Sao Bento is the railway station that is a must stop for anyone in the city. From there, it’s only a short walk to Porto’s Cathedral (Se) sitting on top of the hill. The cathedral itself is not a particularly fetching piece of architecture, built in a heavy Romanesque style. More interesting is the adjacent Gothic cloister with again blue painted tiles depicting scenes from later periods. The obvious strategic advantages of the site led the Romans to build a fort at the spot, and some of the original defensive walls from the middle ages are still standing.

It had been raining in the city since shortly after our arrival, but we came prepared for the weather, so it didn’t dampen our spirits. Rain has a way of bringing out the contours of everything; it throws a colored blanket over previously invisible things; instead of an intermittent and thus fragmented world, the steadily falling rain creates a continuity of acoustic experience. Having walked up from Ribeira, we opted to walk back around the Cathedral to the Ponte Luis I, a bridge over the Douro to Vila Nova de Gaia. The lower tier of the bridge is for cars, but the upper is reserved for street cars and pedestrians. The walk along the top bridge gives a panoramic, almost dizzying view of the old city walls, as well as the boats and river cruise ships, including the one we were about to board the next day. Crossing the river and stopping in Vila Nova gives you the opportunity to take great picture postcard photos of the old city. This is also where most of the wine tasting rooms are located, given this was the spot where the barrels of wine from the nearby vineyards are unloaded and processed, creating the rightly famous Porto wines shipped around the world. There is even a gondola that traverses over this part of the city, affording more aerial views for the tourists. I’m glad we were there in the beginning of April, as later in the year the tourists swamp this relatively small city, and the heat can become oppressive. Most places are not air conditioned!

Still jetlagged from our LAX-Amsterdam-Porto marathon, we opted for an early (by Porto standards) 7:30 dinner at a tiny restaurant we passed on a narrow side street. I have a fairly good nose for food, and if a place smells right, it usually turns out to be wonderful. This was no exception. With only five tables, we managed to get the last one, and accepted the owner’s recommendation for a local cod. It was excellent, washed down with a local bottle of wine at a price lower than we would have paid at a fast food place at home.

We ate an early breakfast at the hotel from the ample spread available. Taking the opportunity that we still had most of the morning to ourselves before the arranged pick up to the ship, we walked about some more to take in the Porto sights. The old city of Porto had been declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and we enjoyed meandering through its somewhat eccentrically laid out network of lanes and alleys reflecting its medieval history. Knowing that this was the spot of departure for many expeditions during Portugal’s Age of Discovery, we walked by the imposing statue Prince Henry the Navigator. We chose to bypass touring inside the Palacio da Bolsa, the new Stock Exchange as well as the Igreja de Sao Francisco. Looking at the photos from inside, one would not guess that this church was dedicated to St. Francis who created the order based on poverty. With the massive profits from the country’s colonial expansion, especially Brazil, as well as the wine trade, the church appears to be a great example of material excess of which we’ve seen enough. I knew we were leaving a great deal of worthwhile attractions left unexplored, but that would have to wait for another visit. I decided, based on the vibe of the people, the food I smelled and sampled, and the physical charms of the city Porto was a place worth a longer visit if opportunity presented itself.

The transfer to the ship went smoothly. Emerald has a basic design they apply to all their ships, so we immediately felt comfortable with our surroundings. A light lunch was being served, allowing us to meet some of our fellow passengers.  We had already met a British couple, Peter and Joan back at our hotel. Now on board, we met yet another British couple of the same names, who in turn we eventually introduced to each other. As the serendipity of discovery continued to unfold, they grew up in close proximity to each other. Furthermore, one couple was celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary while the other the sixtieth! As we found them to be delightful, well-travelled, capable of easy laughter and with interesting backgrounds, we ended up sharing many of our meals together. We would have been happy to do this even if they hadn’t shared their bottles of celebratory champagne with us, though a glass of good bubbly is always a nice lagniappe (derived from the South American Spanish phrase la yapa referring to a free extra item. I became enamored of this word and its concept during my four years living in New Orleans, where it often cropped up in the Creole culture.)

C.S. Lewis, one of my favorite British authors, pointed out that friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art… It has no survival value; rather is one of those things that give value to survival. Anais Nin said it another way, pointing out that each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive. This is one of the main reasons I love travel: it exposes us to new people in a setting removed from the usual pressures of our lives, allowing us to form new bonds, gain new perspectives of looking at the world through experiences and philosophies almost always different from our own. No matter how long we live, we can only see and do so much on our own. When we can share the experience of another who has seen the same vistas, the same situations that we have, but from a different point of view, we gain a dimension of that experience that ads color, granularity and meaning we might never have otherwise known. Access to this prismatic quality of the universe is but one of the many benefits that friendship provides.

Enough philosophy; back to our trip. This cruise turned out to be particularly rich in providing meaningful contact with some of our fellow travelers. David and his wife Caroline were a couple I noticed at breakfast at our hotel before boarded the ship. They were sitting by themselves, exhibiting a certain reserve, yet with a quality that drew my eye. She was informally elegant, wearing a colorful scarf, while he had an air of quiet authority with his grey hair and calm demeanor. When we boarded the ship and we were going through the initial introductions with the crew, the cruise manager asked what countries people were traveling from. Most of our passengers were British, with a smaller contingent of Americans, Canadians and Aussies, but he identified himself as being from Malta. Miki and I visited the island country for a week almost twenty years ago. I was impressed with their complicated, fascinating history, along with their archeology. At some point I approached Caroline to start a conversation about the island. She revealed that she was actually British, a retired operative nurse who met her husband, David, an academic colorectal surgeon while working together, and he was born in Malta, where they now lived. Since I’m a gastroenterologist who was affiliated for some time with one of the big LA universities, we knew many people in common and traded a few war stories relating to our professions. He reminded me, with his self deprecating behavior and knowledge of the old classics, of one of my own mentors whom I much admired. They had both recently lived in Perth, Australia, where David spent almost five years working, while we recently returned from three week visit to Southeast Australia and Tasmania. We had lots to talk about, and not enough time to do it.

Life on ship revolves around meals, and the food on this cruise I found to be very good, occasionally excellent. There are always enough menu choices that it’s almost impossible not to find something you enjoy. I like Emerald because they have an open seating policy, so you’re never stuck at one table with a group of people you might not want to share time with. Breakfasts and lunches are served buffet style, while at dinner you are served at the table. Wine and beer is included without charge at the meals. Since we were in Portugal, we had a selection of different local wines with every meal. However, if you liked one particular bottle that was served at a previous time, you could always request it and they were happy to provide it. My own favorite was Planalto, a dry white Douro 2022 Reserva wine that I would recommend for anyone to try. As you might imagine Portugal has excellent seafood dishes, as well as a selection of local sausages, ham and roast beef often provided as Franchesma to be found at local restaurants. I also developed a fondness for a local dessert, Pastel de Nata, an egg custard delicacy for which our on-board chef provided a demonstration of its preparation. You can get this in Porto year round, but especially during Easter, which was the time of our visit. The only problem with all this culinary indulgence is that my cholesterol will likely to be high, a small pouch of newborn fat is flapping below my navel, and my liver is seeking asylum with the Canadian authorities.

The original cruise itinerary involved sailing back and forth on the navigable 130 miles of the Douro River, with stops along the way at small towns, visits at numerous wineries, as well as a visit to Salamanca in Spain via bus. Being another UNESCO World Heritage Site as well as the home of one of the oldest universities in Europe, plus never having been there, this was an outing I was especially anticipating. Unfortunately for me and my cruise companions, Nature was not cooperating. Unlike on one of our previous Danube cruises from Budapest to Bucharest, where water levels were low and the passengers and luggage had to be offloaded to buses for a short segment to allow the ship to pass without scraping the bottom, our problem was too much water. It had been raining for over a week, and the high water levels created an unsafe condition for the ship to go through the necessary locks. In a way, we were lucky. We left Porto at 6 AM, just before sunrise. I was one of the few people up in the lounge to watch our departure, as we sailed under Porto’s five bridges leaving the city behind. I was rewarded with the slow illumination of the surrounding landscape by the gradual brightening sky, while lights of buildings slowly dimmed in a pleasant mixture of pastels. A few patches of morning fog added a trace of mystery to the peaceful scene. We reach Carrapatelo Dam and the deepest lock in Europe. The ship traverses a height of 35 meters from the bottom to the top of the river, making for an impressive experience. We were able to sail from Porto as far as Pinhao, which we reached on the second day of the journey. Pinhao is a small town of about 700 people, established originally as a railway station, as well as a port from which to send the boats with its barrels of wine to the big city. Now, all these small towns are shrinking, as young people no longer see a future for themselves there, and migrate to the big cities or out of the country. This out-migration in turn leads to predictable labor shortages, threatening the viability of the Douro wineries with their heavy requirement for manual labor, especially at harvest time.  During our trip, we visited a number of wineries and sampled their products.

I have a penchant for minutia, so I won’t bore you with all the tidbits I learned on this trip. However, here are a few things that stuck out. Did you know why the grapes are crushed by stomping of the feet rather than by mechanical presses? It’s because it keeps the seeds from being injured in the process so they can be then removed without adding bitter taste to the juice. There are five main grape varieties for making red Douro Valley wines(Touriga Franca most common) and three for whites (Malvasia the most common.) Not all the Douro wines are made into Port, which is a blended, fortified wine using as many as 80 grape varieties. An important feature of port wine is that fermentation is topped as soon as 48 hours by the addition of grape spirit (77% proof). The earlier this is done, the sweeter the wine. (Most ports have an alcohol content of 19 to 22% proof.) There are a number of different types of Port, including Ruby, Tawny, Vintage, etc.. Like anything else, let your palate decide what you like the best. One thing I will say – you never suffered a hangover like the one from drinking too much port!

Once the announcement was made that we would not be able to navigate the river as planned, the ships cruise director Natalia Santos was faced with significant challenges: how to convey the news to the passengers without inciting mutiny, how to entertain us with limited resources available, and how to make the remainder of the trip as positive as possible. Having chaperoned adult tour groups in Europe as a kind of hobby, I could sympathize with her plight, and offered the only assistance I could. I happened to have with me a USB drive with a number of my lectures, including one on the subject of happiness. I offered her the opportunity to make a presentation on the topic to anyone who wanted to hear it. She was at first understandably reluctant, not knowing me or exactly what my talk contained. However, after I gave her the presentation to review, and assuring her that I in fact ended up doing this lecture on another Emerald cruise, she was happy to fill the dead space on her schedule. From the feedback I got, including from her and her staff who came to listen, it all went well. I felt badly for Rute, the activities director on board, as a number of events she scheduled involving the use of the outside top deck had to be cancelled due to rain and heavy winds. Any experienced traveler knows that weather and travel plans cannot be guaranteed, and you have to make the best of the situation. As the old Jimmy Buffet song goes, “We do it for the stories we can tell.”

Any cruise you wish to take always has disclaimers regarding weather and water levels, which can prevent the company from providing the experience you were promised. You would think anyone who signs up already knows this. You would be wrong. Though they were a minority, some of the passengers were quite vocal about their displeasure about having to make due with less than what they expected. Some people you just can’t make happy. They come that way or they don’t. This is likely why I never chose travel guide as a full time occupation.

Besides doing tours of wineries, some of which had beautiful gardens and buildings associated with them, we did manage to get to Lamego and the Shrine of Our Lady of Remedies. This provided us the opportunity to stretch our legs and gets some exercise, despite the lack of less than ideal weather. The church lies about 600 meters above the rest of the town of 26,000. It has a monumental staircase with 686 steps linking nine terraces, containing ornamental urns and blue and white pictures using tiles (azulejos).  The main purpose of the stairs is to provide the setting for a series of sculptures depicting the Fourteen Stations of the Cross. I was impressed with our friends David and Caroline who hoofed its whole length despite the persistent drizzle.

Since our regular tour was cancelled, we had the opportunity to visit Mateus Palace, previously offered as an extra-cost option. The Palace is familiar to any of us who grew up in the sixties being featured on the label of the iconic shaped bottle of Mateus Rose wines. The Baroque palace offers a demonstration of wealth and splendor balanced with a sense of playfulness and lack of pomposity. The descendant of its builder still resides here, though much of it is open to the public. The large pool outside provides a wonderful mirror of the building and its spires to the millions of photographers who have trooped through here over the ages.

Another previously extra-cost option we now got to see gratis was the amazing property of Quinta da Aveleda. A mixture of romantic architecture and botanical gardens well worth the visit,  we had the added bonus of seeing all the cherry blossoms in bloom. Who needs to go to Japan? The place has a quality to it that makes you expect to see a knight or a mythical creature as you round the corner of its winding paths. I would have been sorry to have missed this had we been on the regular tour.

And who can forget the outsize personality of Maria, the woman whose winery tour was a last minute addition? A combination of Zsa Zsa Gabor and telemarketer, her story of riches to rags and back to riches captivated the crowd, and entertained all but the most jaded. The tiny local sandwich food she provided was excellent, an assessment confirmed by our tour director Natalia. Besides hustling her winery, she also managed to sell a number of her custom designed scarves to many of the ladies on the tour.

Though we never had a chance to visit Salamanca, I have to say the tradeoff was worth it. We knew going in that the Douro would not provide the sights or variety offered on the Rhine or the Danube. What we experienced, however, exceeded my expectations. In addition to the couples I already mentioned, we met a number of other delightful people on the ship. I enjoyed my conversations with John, the British psychologist who particularly seemed to appreciate my views of happiness. John Emm and his wife kept us entertained during a dinner, and I was taken by his ability to overcome some not insignificant disability caused by a recent illness.  Nadeen, the Atlanta attorney who reached out to me following my talk and expressed interest in my involvement with the Partnership Scholar Program was an interesting woman who I suspect I would have enjoyed knowing more had the opportunity presented itself. I remain grateful to Brenda and her husband Ian for sharing her chocolate rabbit with me so I would have enough to bring to the grandkids in Paris.

I’ve always felt that strangers are just friends waiting to happen. Friends are the most important ingredient in this recipe of life. I’ve had an absolutely wonderful holiday in Portugal, most importantly because I had a chance to begin to know some wonderful people like you. I know this Postcard is long, but at least you were spared my discourse on cork. I do hope you will stay in touch periodically, and until our roads cross again, may your troubles be less, your blessings be more, and nothing but happiness come through your door.

Best wishes to you all

Posted in Beauty, friendship, Happiness, Thoughts & Musings, Travel | Tagged , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Humor for the Less Sophisticated


Some people consider puns to be the lowest form of humor. I happen not to be one of them. For those of you who share dad jokes or other less sophisticated stories, here are a couple to add to your collection. By the way, this site will be on hiatus for a month, I hope to return to you before the end of April and fill you in in what I’ve been doing. Be well, stay healthy.

   Never marry a tennis player.

   Love means nothing to them.

I think I might have scoliosis. How do I know?
Let’s just say, I have a hunch.

I just heard there’s a nudist’s convention next week.
I might go if I’ve got nothing on.

Do you think oranges become juice willingly?
Or are they getting pressured into it?

I have a phobia of speed bumps, but I’m slowly getting over it.

Seriously, what are Roman numerals actually good IV?

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SELF IMPROVEMENT WORKSHOPS


Given all that is happening in the world today, I want to take a short pause and attempt to inject a small dose of humor into our conversation. With the proliferation of the self-help movement, you can find workshops on almost any topic. Please choose your favorites from the following list, or offer up any of your own. Make your choices soon to receive our early-bird discount.

SELF IMPROVEMENT WORKSHOPS

Creative Suffering

Overcoming Peace of Mind

You and Your Birthmark

Guilt Without Sex

The Primal Shrug

Ego Gratification Through Violence

Holding Your Child’s Attention Through Guilt and Fear

Whine Your Way to Alienation

How To Overcome Self Doubt Through Pretense and Ostentation

HEALTH AND FITNESS WORKSHOPS

The Joys of Hypochondria

Creative Tooth Decay

High Fiber Sex

Suicide and Your Health

Understanding Nudity

Tap Dance Your Way to Social Ridicule

Sinus Drainage at Home

CRAFT WORKSHOPS

Self-Actualization Through Macramé

Needlecraft for Junkies

Gifts for the Senile

Bonsai Your Pet

How to Draw Dirty Pictures

How to Convert a Wheelchair into a Dune Buggy

Basic Kitchen Taxidermy

The Repair and Maintenance of Your Virginity

Burglar-Proof your Home with Concrete

Posted in America, Health and wellness, Humor, Mental Health, Thoughts & Musings | Tagged , , , | 3 Comments

Homeless


Life is never easy. For the homeless, it’s more challenging than most of us can appreciate. We inure ourselves to plight of those we pass by on a regular basis because it’s to inconvenient for us to acknowledge their suffering, recognize their humanity. After reading the following poem, maybe you’ll be moved to offer some act of mercy.

Homeless in DC

His rotted back slumped against the slim stones,

a festering dank wall, the cellar entry nearby,

viscous liquid in empty trashcans, nothing solid to rummage through,

greasy clothes, grime under his broken tobacco-stained nails,

oral cancer, visible cankers, a painful rectal abscess, he had

collapsed into his urine and stool. The smell blocked all sympathy.

No shoes, his bare feet and ankles blackened on cold, dead varicose limbs,

a large swollen belly from scrounged wormy scratches, foul eructations,

his vision blurred by cataracts adorned with tears,

tarry lungs perfused a failing dysrhythmic, thankful heart

for the broken steam pipe under the up-heaved sidewalk. Winter

overhead. Above his tattered beret festooned with lice and fleas,

a bright sky, blue with white ocean clouds, cruel in their reflection

contrasting his miserable estate. He shivered in bursts, quiet exhaustion

between. Death wanted his life, but he could not cry out easily,

so he listened.

No Samaritan with donkey or coin, no heels clicking, no coins jingling,

yet, inside, among the dark intestinal smells a small spark of life

glimmered, hopeful for the next yesterday to dream of.

His face was dispassionate, enduring…

His vigil outside Union Station.

  • Samuel Wallace Bender
Posted in America, Ethics, Grief, Loneliness, Medicine, Mental Health, News and politics, Poetry, Thoughts & Musings | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments

Socialism and Grade Inflation


The Socialism of Grades

“The inherent vice of capitalism is the unequal sharing of the blessings. The inherent blessing of socialism is the equal sharing of miseries.” –Winston Churchill

Socialism is a terrific idea in theory. Who would not want everyone in society to have a house with a white fence, the job of their dreams, 2.5 kids and a dog? But plain vanilla socialism has failed every single time it has been implemented, and it turned each of those countries into a totalitarian state: Cuba, the Soviet Union, Yugoslavia, Venezuela — the list goes on.

In a socialist state, success is pushed down, and failure is elevated — this is how equality of outcome is created. In the Soviet Union’s version of plain vanilla socialism, we were taught to hate the wealthy and empathize with the poor. This empathy was easy for us because everyone (with the exception of the tiny ruling-class bureaucrats) was poor. 

Capitalism does not offer the sexy, utopian promise of socialism, but it works in practice. Capitalism has lifted billions out of poverty; but it is now under threat, ironically, from those who have benefited the most from it — academics. Universities  have been among the biggest beneficiaries of the wealth created by capitalism. 

As I am writing this, I am reminded of Margaret Thatcher’s “Socialism is a great idea until you run out of other people’s money.”

Universities used to be spartan gyms for our minds, places where opposing ideas collided and gave birth to new ones and where our thinking got challenged through healthy debate. This growth came with healthy pain, the type that accompanies and stimulates intellectual growth.

Today, many universities have been turned into day spas, where for $300,000 a student’s mind will be pampered and coddled. Now they are “safe places” from opposing ideas, which are considered as microaggressions. This is where free speech goes to die, unless it calls for the genocidal extermination of Jews; then you can speak your mind.

College administrations are afraid to upset their spa customers (sorry, I meant students). They are not focused on challenging their thinking (the point of education) and producing the brightest but are instead fixated on making students feel better about themselves and giving them their money’s worth. 

I was not surprised to learn that socialism is slowly poisoning our universities, but I was surprised by its new avenue — the socialization of grades. Professors at a local law school are required to grade to a B+. When professors submit their grades, if the average is below a B+, the system will reject it. The university is afraid of making students feel bad about a low, albeit deserved, grade and wants every student to have a high grade-point average upon graduation. 

However, what is inflation for one group is deflation for another. This practice punishes hardworking students, as their work may result in a lower grade than they deserve, compared to classmates who are preoccupied with attending “TikTok University” during lectures. 

Universities are on a quixotic mission to right a wrong — they are fighting against grade inequality. This is what socializing (equalizing) outcomes looks like. In fact, this seemingly innocent practice of equally high grades has the familiar ring of a Karl Marx slogan that I heard endlessly from the Soviet Union: “From each according to his abilities, to each according to his needs.” Law students need a B+, so they get a B+. 

With each graduating class, our capitalistic (equal-opportunity) society is being slowly diluted by equal-outcome dogma (socialism).

Grade inflation is happening in virtually every college across the country, but colleges should not receive all the blame for this, as unfortunately it starts in high schools, which are suffering through super grade inflation — grades have gone up while reading and math skills have fallen (with minorities experiencing the largest grade inflation). 

Bad (deserved) grades are a necessary part of education. How else would you know that you had not learned something as well as you thought you did? I failed English as a freshman in college. I had been in the US for two years. My English was objectively horrible. I’m glad I didn’t receive special (woke) treatment for being “fresh off the boat.” I studied a lot harder, retook the class and passed it my senior year. If I had not, my English would not have improved and I would not have written several books or received national awards for writing.

The beauty of the Declaration of Independence is that you are guaranteed the “pursuit of happiness” — you are given an equal chance to pursue it. You are not guaranteed the outcome, just the opportunity. There is enormous value, and yes even happiness and meaning in the pursuit of happiness. This pursuit will often take you down a harder road, but it will result in the best version of you and bring a sense of pride and accomplishment. 

Posted in America, Children, Communism, Ethics, News and politics, Politics, Russians, School, Thoughts & Musings | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Lost in Translation


Perhaps because English was not my first language (actually, the third) I have always been fascinated by words in another language that express a concept or feeling that requires anything from a sentence to a paragraph to express in English. Sometimes we must turn to other languages to find le mot juste. If any of you had seen the classic movie with Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson set in Japan, you will immediately recognize the inspiration for the title of this piece. Here are a whole bunch of foreign words with no direct English equivalent.

1. Kummerspeck (German)
Excess weight gained from emotional overeating. Literally, grief bacon.

2. Shemomedjamo (Georgian)
You know when you’re really full, but your meal is just so delicious, you can’t stop eating it? The Georgians feel your pain. This word means, “I accidentally ate the whole thing.”

3. Tartle (Scots)
The nearly onomatopoeic word for that panicky hesitation just before you have to introduce someone whose name you can’t quite remember.

4. Mamihlapinatapai (Yaghan language of Tierra del Fuego)
This word captures that special look shared between two people, when both are wishing that the other would do something that they both want, but neither want to do.

5. Backpfeifengesicht (German)
A face badly in need of a fist.

6. Iktsuarpok (Inuit)
You know that feeling of anticipation when you’re waiting for someone to show up at your house and you keep going outside to see if they’re there yet? This is the word for it.

7. Pelinti (Buli, Ghana)
Your friend bites into a piece of piping hot pizza, then opens his mouth and sort of tilts his head around while making an “aaaarrrahh” noise. The Ghanaians have a word for that. More specifically, it means “to move hot food around in your mouth.”

8. Greng-jai (Thai)
That feeling you get when you don’t want someone to do something for you because it would be a pain for them.

9. Mencolek (Indonesian)
You know that old trick where you tap someone lightly on the opposite shoulder from behind to fool them? The Indonesians have a word for it.

10. Faamiti (Samoan)
To make a squeaking sound by sucking air past the lips in order to gain the attention of a dog or child.

11. Gigil (Filipino)
The urge to pinch or squeeze something that is irresistibly cute.

12. Yuputka (Ulwa)
A word made for walking in the woods at night, it’s the phantom sensation of something crawling on your skin.

13. Zhaghzhagh (Persian)
The chattering of teeth from the cold or from rage.

14. Vybafnout (Czech)
A word tailor-made for annoying older brothers—it means to jump out and say boo.

15. Fremdschämen (German); Myötähäpeä (Finnish)
The kinder, gentler cousins of Schadenfreude, both these words mean something akin to “vicarious embarrassment.”

16. Lagom (Swedish)
Maybe Goldilocks was Swedish? This slippery little word is hard to define, but means something like, “Not too much, and not too little, but juuuuust right.”

17. Pålegg (Norwegian)
Sandwich Artists unite! The Norwegians have a non-specific descriptor for anything – ham, cheese, jam, Nutella, mustard, herring, pickles, Doritos, you name it – you might consider putting into a sandwich.

18. Layogenic (Tagalog)
Remember in Clueless when Cher describes someone as “a full-on Monet … from far away, it’s OK, but up close it’s a big old mess”? That’s exactly what this word means.

19. Bakku-shan (Japanese)
Or there’s this Japanese slang term, which describes the experience of seeing a woman who appears pretty from behind but not from the front.

20. Seigneur-terraces (French)
Coffee shop dwellers who sit at tables a long time but spend little money.

21. Ya’arburnee (Arabic)
This word is the hopeful declaration that you will die before someone you love deeply, because you cannot stand to live without them. Literally, may you bury me.

22. Pana Po’o (Hawaiian)
“Hmm, now where did I leave those keys?” he said, pana po’oing. It means to scratch your head in order to help you remember something you’ve forgotten.

23. Slampadato (Italian)
Addicted to the UV glow of tanning salons? This word describes you.

24. Zeg (Georgian)
It means “the day after tomorrow.” OK, we do have “overmorrow” in English, but when was the last time someone used that?

25. Cafune (Brazilian Portuguese)
Leave it to the Brazilians to come up with a word for “tenderly running your fingers through your lover’s hair.”

26. Koi No Yokan (Japanese)
The sense upon first meeting a person that the two of you are going to fall in love.

27. Kaelling (Danish)
You know that woman who stands on her doorstep (or in line at the supermarket, or at the park, or in a restaurant) cursing at her children? The Danes know her, too.

28. Boketto (Japanese)
It’s nice to know that the Japanese think enough of the act of gazing vacantly into the distance without thinking to give it a name.

29. L’esprit de l’escalier (French)
Literally, stairwell wit—a too-late retort thought of only after departure.

30. Cotisuelto (Caribbean Spanish)
A word that would aptly describe the prevailing fashion trend among American men under 40, it means one who wears the shirt tail outside of his trousers.

31. Packesel (German)
The packesel is the person who’s stuck carrying everyone else’s bags on a trip. Literally, a burro.

32. Hygge (Danish)
Denmark’s mantra, hygge is the pleasant, genial, and intimate feeling associated with sitting around a fire in the winter with close friends.

33. Cavoli Riscaldati (Italian)
The result of attempting to revive an unworkable relationship. Translates to “reheated cabbage.”

34. Bilita Mpash (Bantu)
An amazing dream. Not just a “good” dream; the opposite of a nightmare.

35. Litost (Czech)
Milan Kundera described the emotion as “a state of torment created by the sudden sight of one’s own misery.”

36. Luftmensch (Yiddish)
There are several Yiddish words to describe social misfits. This one is for an impractical dreamer with no business sense.

37 & 38. Schlemiel and schlimazel (Yiddish)
Someone prone to bad luck. Yiddish distinguishes between the schlemiel and schlimazel, whose fates would probably be grouped under those of the klutz in other languages. The schlemiel is the traditional maladroit, who spills his coffee; the schlimazel is the one on whom it’s spilled.

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Hypersanity – Why Do We Need It


We live in a crazy world. This is a phrase I keep hearing with increasing frequency. You may have uttered it yourself recently. So when I came across the following by Neil Burton, I felt it was something worth sharing with you. The big question is what you and I are going to do about it. Feel free to share with me any thoughts you may have. No rush for an answer, but the Doomsday Clock keeps ticking.

The Hypersane Are Among Us, If Only We Are Prepared to Look

Sometimes those who seem a little crazy are the ones who really get it.

‘Hypersanity’ is not a common or accepted term. But neither did I make it up. I first came across the concept while training in psychiatry, in The Politics of Experience and the Bird of Paradise (1967) by R D Laing. In this book, the Scottish psychiatrist presented ‘madness’ as a voyage of discovery that could open out onto a free state of higher consciousness, or hypersanity. For Laing, the descent into madness could lead to a reckoning, to an awakening, to ‘break-through’ rather than ‘breakdown’.

A few months later, I read C G Jung’s autobiography, Memories, Dreams, Reflections (1962), which provided a vivid case in point. In 1913, on the eve of the Great War, Jung broke off his close friendship with Sigmund Freud, and spent the next few years in a troubled state of mind that led him to a ‘confrontation with the unconscious’.

As Europe tore itself apart, Jung gained first-hand experience of psychotic material in which he found ‘the matrix of a mythopoeic imagination which has vanished from our rational age’. Like Gilgamesh, Odysseus, Heracles, Orpheus and Aeneas before him, Jung traveled deep down into an underworld where he conversed with Salome, an attractive young woman, and with Philemon, an old man with a white beard, the wings of a kingfisher and the horns of a bull. Although Salome and Philemon were products of Jung’s unconscious, they had lives of their own and said things that he had not previously thought. In Philemon, Jung had at long last found the father-figure that both Freud and his own father had failed to be. More than that, Philemon was a guru, and prefigured what Jung himself was later to become: the wise old man of Zürich.

As the war burnt out, Jung re-emerged into sanity, and considered that he had found in his madness ‘the primo materia for a lifetime’s work’.

The Laingian concept of hypersanity, though modern, has ancient roots.

 Once, upon being asked to name the most beautiful of all things, Diogenes the Cynic (412-323 BCE) replied parrhesia, which in Ancient Greek means something like ‘uninhibited thought’, ‘free speech’, or ‘full expression’. Diogenes used to stroll around Athens in broad daylight brandishing a lit lamp. Whenever curious people stopped to ask what he was doing, he would reply: ‘I am just looking for a human being’ – thereby insinuating that the people of Athens were not living up to, or even much aware of, their full human potential.

After being exiled from his native Sinope for having defaced its coinage, Diogenes emigrated to Athens, took up the life of a beggar, and made it his mission to deface – metaphorically this time – the coinage of custom and convention that was, he maintained, the false currency of morality. He disdained the need for conventional shelter or any other such ‘dainties’, and elected to live in a tub and survive on a diet of onions. Diogenes proved to the later satisfaction of the Stoics that happiness has nothing whatsoever to do with a person’s material circumstances, and held that human beings had much to learn from studying the simplicity and artlessness of dogs, which, unlike human beings, had not complicated every simple gi􀀃t of the gods.

The term ‘cynic’ derives from the Greek kynikos, which is the adjective of kyon or ‘dog’ Once, upon being challenged for masturbating in the marketplace, Diogenes regretted that it were not as easy to relieve hunger by rubbing an empty stomach. When asked, on another occasion, where he came from, he replied: ‘I am a citizen of the world’ (cosmopolites), a radical claim at the time, and the first recorded use of the term ‘cosmopolitan’. As he approached death, Diogenes asked for his mortal remains to be thrown outside the city walls for wild animals to feast upon. A􀀃ter his death in the city of Corinth, the Corinthians erected to his glory a pillar surmounted by a dog of Parian marble.

Jung and Diogenes came across as insane by the standards of their day. But both men had a depth and acuteness of vision that their contemporaries lacked, and that enabled them to see through their facades of ‘sanity’. Both psychosis and hypersanity place us outside society, making us seem ‘mad’ to the mainstream. Both states attract a heady mixture of fear and fascination. But whereas mental disorder is distressing and disabling, hypersanity is liberating and empowering.

After reading The Politics of Experience, the concept of hypersanity stuck in my mind, not least as something that I might aspire to for myself. But if there is such a thing as hypersanity, the implication is that mere sanity is not all it’s cracked up to be, a state of dormancy and dullness with less vital potential even than madness. This I think is most apparent in people’s frequently suboptimal – if not frankly inappropriate – responses, both verbal and behavioral, to the world around them. As Laing puts it:

The condition of alienation, of being asleep, of being unconscious, of

being out of one’s mind, is the condition of the normal man.

Society highly values its normal man. It educates children to lose

themselves and to become absurd, and thus to be normal.

Normal men have killed perhaps 100,000,000 of their fellow normal men

in the last 50 years.

Many ‘normal’ people suffer from not being hypersane: they have a restricted worldview, confused priorities, and are wracked by stress, anxiety and self-deception. As a result, they sometimes do dangerous things, and become fanatics or fascists or otherwise destructive (or not constructive) people. In contrast, hypersane people are calm, contained and constructive. It is not just that the ‘sane’ are irrational but that they lack scope and range, as though they’ve grown into the prisoners of their arbitrary lives, locked up in their own dark and narrow subjectivity. Unable to take leave of their selves, they hardly look around them, barely see beauty and possibility, rarely contemplate the bigger picture – and all, ultimately, for fear of losing their selves, of breaking down, of going mad, using one form of extreme subjectivity to defend against another, as life – mysterious, magical life – slips through their fingers.

We could all go mad, in a way we already are, minus the promise. But what if there were another route to hypersanity, one that, compared with madness, was less fearsome, less dangerous, and less damaging? What if, as well as a backdoor way, there were also a royal road strewn with sweet-scented petals? A􀀃ter all, Diogenes did not exactly go mad.

Neither did other hypersane people such as Socrates and Confucius, although the Buddha did suffer, in the beginning, with what might today be classed as depression.

Besides Jung, are there any modern examples of hypersanity? Those who escaped from Plato’s cave of shadows were reluctant to crawl back down and involve themselves in the affairs of men, and most hypersane people, rather than courting the limelight, might prefer to hide out in their back gardens. But a few do rise to prominence for the difference that they felt compelled to make, people such as Nelson Mandela and Temple Grandin. And the hypersane are still among us: from the Dalai Lama to Jane Goodall, there are many candidates. While they might seem to be living in a world of their own, this is only because they have delved more deeply into the way things are than those ‘sane’ people around them.

Neel Burton is a psychiatrist and philosopher. He is a fellow of Green Templeton College at the University of Oxford, and his most recent book is Hypersanity: Thinking Beyond Thinking (2019).

Posted in America, Cold War, History, Hope, News and politics, Politics, Relatioships, Religion, Revolution, Science, Thoughts & Musings, Vietnam War, World War II | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

The Power of Silence


We as a society are too connected to our phones, entertainment, our music. Many of us have lost the desire and ability to unplug from this world, and to allow silence and reflection to enter back into our lives. The following article describes the technique and the benefits of allowing yourself to enter the Sphere of Silence. I hope you enjoy it – in silence.

Don’t Underestimate the Power of Silence

by Vijay Eswaran

July 22, 2021

Last year, the world went into lockdown and our lives changed

dramatically. “I’m so tired” was already a status symbol, but

burnout and it’s long-lasting impact on our health, has increased.

The lines between work and play have blurred.

This may be most true for the youngest generations.

Students have not been back in a physical classroom for more

than a year, new graduates are stepping into an economic

downturn, and the workforce itself is changing. Even as some

regions slowly open up, the pall of uncertainty reigns.

I work closely with many young people as a part of my personal

mission to guide the next generation of leaders, who I believe

have the potential to shape a better world for the future. Over 50%

of my company’s workforce compromises millennials, and in the

pre-Covid world, we offered an ongoing in-person mentoring

program. Over the last year, many of my colleagues and mentees

have reached out to me expressing feelings of frustration and

angst.

My advice to them always begins with reassurance. Though many

of us think we are alone in our feelings, they are not unusual or

uncommon. To get through a difficult phase over which we have

no control, we can focus on something over which we do have

control.

You have probably heard these “words of wisdom” before. But do

you know how to apply them?

For over 30 years, I’ve started my day with a 60-minute routine to

help me stay grounded, focused, and most importantly, remain

hopeful when my mind wants to spiral. I call it the Sphere of

Silence.

The Sphere of Silence

When I was a child, my grandfather lived with me and my family.

Every morning he would wake up at the crack of dawn and sit in

complete silence for an hour. Even as the rest of the household

stirred awake and the various morning rituals unfolded around

him, he stayed still and quiet. Nothing could detract him during

that time. He referred to it as the Mouna Vratham, a ritual of

meditative silence long practiced in Indian Hindu tradition. He

believed that abstaining from speaking for a set period each day

brought him inner peace and made him a better listener.

Over the years, as I traveled to different parts of the world,

initially for education and then later for work, I discovered that a

ritual practice of silence is not unique to any religion or culture.

Christianity, Judaism, and Islam have all advocated the practice

of silence in one form or another.

Though my grandfather taught me the practice at a young age, it

was many years before I truly learned to appreciate it. After

completing my university education in London, I took a gap year

to travel through Europe and spent some time in Italy where I

stayed at a Franciscan friary for some time. I arrived just before

Lent and discovered that the Brothers at the friary would spend

the entire 40-day period in silence.

I was encouraged to follow the practice. It was one of the hardest

things I have ever experienced. When you are forced to be silent

you have to find other ways to communicate, which means you

have to keep your message very simple. This forces you to

declutter your thought process. It was during these weeks that I

learned that silence is not just for prayer.

Being silent allows us to channel our energies. It gives us the

clarity we need to calmly face challenges and uncertainty. The

hour of silence I practice each morning, and encourage you to

practice as well, can be a time for collecting our thoughts, training

our minds, and deciding how we want to enter into the day.

The Routine

The Sphere of Silence is broken into three segments of 30

minutes, 20 minutes, and 10 minutes each. If you are just starting

out, you can try a shortened version by slicing time off each of the

segments, but I highly recommend working your way up to the

complete 60 minutes for optimal benefits.

Your aim should be to complete a 21-day cycle without any breaks.

When you start, you will think it is easy. Then the initial

inspiration will fade and reality will set in. Fight through this

phase and stick to the routine. Forming a habit takes time, but

eventually, it will become second nature.

When I first began practicing the Sphere of Silence regularly,

some of the earliest changes I noticed within myself came around

that 21-day mark.

The Prep

The ground rule, as the name indicates, is to keep complete

silence. The entire 60-minute practice must be done with no

distractions from the outside world, so switch off all your devices

and find a quiet spot away from others. Have a journal and a pen

ready. Also, pick up a book you’ve been meaning to read for a

while and set it near you.

While you don’t necessarily have to practice the Sphere of Silence

in the morning, I’ve found that doing so gives me a boost of

productivity and calm that helps me combat the stresses of the

day.

The First 30 Minutes: Goal Setting

My experiences at the friary inspired the process for this first

segment of the practice, which is also the most important. I’ve

broken it down into three 10-minute sets.

Pick up your journal and spend the first 10 minutes writing your

short-term, medium-term, and long-term goals. Then, dedicate

the next 10-minute set to assessing your progress on the goals you

set the previous day.

When you write your goals down, you are forced to be very clear

about what you want to accomplish. When you do this every

morning, you are waking up to those goals, asking questions

about your progress, and recalibrating your plans if needed. This

will motivate you to focus on moving forward and complete the

tasks necessary for achieving whatever success looks like to you.

Use the final 10 minutes to take note of any unmet goals

(especially short-term or daily goals) and assess the reasons why

you have not achieved them. The events of tomorrow develop

from what you do today, so understanding yesterday is the key to

shaping tomorrow.

The Next 20 Minutes: Learning and Growth

This is when you pick up that book you bought many moons ago

but never got around to reading. The ground rule for this segment

is to choose a book that teaches you new things and enriches your

mind.

When you make reading a part of your morning routine — when

your mind is rested and fresh and ready to absorb new ideas —

you begin your day filed with motivation as opposed to fear of the

unknown. This part of the process was adapted from my time at the

Ramakrishna Mission in Singapore, where I stayed after

completing high school. The Mission is a prominent global

welfare and spiritual organization that is involved in charitable

activities around the world. As a part of my duties as an

apprentice, I had to read a set of books and summarize them for

the library’s catalogue. If I had questions, I had to note them

down and discuss them during mealtimes with the Elders.

This is where I developed the habit of reading in complete silence

and taking down notes as I read. I found that by writing down my

learnings and insights, I was able to come up with action points to

implement into my own life based on the ideas in the book.

So, spend the first 10 minutes of this step reading a chapter of

your book. Then, use the remaining 10 minutes to write down a

summary of what you just read, by hand.

By the time you finish the book, you will have engaged in an extra

layer of processing, allowing for deeper retention and analyses,

and strengthening your short-term memory.

The Final 10 Minutes: Mindfulness

This final segment is an important grounding process, like a cooldown

after a good workout. Use these last 10 minutes for selfreflection

and, if you believe in a higher power, for communicating with God, the Universe, your spirituality, or whatever you prefer.

My grandfather inspired this final process. For him, that hour of

silence each morning held a spiritual dimension that led up to his

daily morning prayers.

The approach is entirely up to you, but the objective of this

segment is to be present and pay attention to your feelings. The

added benefit of silence is it acts as a natural filter to your

thoughts. It gives you time to think about what you are feeling

and what those feelings mean to you. I have realized that this part of the practice is also a powerful way to deal with anger. It allows you to harness your calm during stressful situations and mindfully choose to stay out of negativity.

The Result

When you practice the Sphere of Silence without a break for 21

days, you will likely notice immediate changes in how you

perceive the world around you, begin to acquire an intense

insight into everything you do, and find a greater sense of

balance.

Many of us have forgotten (or even fear) quiet. We live in a world

full of noise and chatter. A world wherein our daily routines are

inundated with distractions and responsibilities. This practice is

an investment in yourself. It is a way to take control of the

remaining 23 hours of your day.

Projecting the day in your mind before it begins, making

decisions, and watching them manifest — all these things have a

deeper purpose than simply taking control. When you see your

vision come to life, this ultimately gives you confidence and a

deeper understanding of who you are. You learn to trust yourself,

are able to count on your decisions, and feel more secure amid the

noise and uncertainties around you.

Vijay Eswaran is an entrepreneur, motivational speaker, philanthropist and the

author of the best-selling book In the Sphere of Silence. An economist by training, he is the

founder of a multi-million-dollar global business. A well-known thought leader in Asia,

he has written and spoken extensively about business, leadership, personal development,

and life management.

Posted in America, Health and wellness, Relatioships, The Internet, Thoughts & Musings | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Robots Are Here


I posted a piece recently about AI and its impact on our future. I also have been a long-time fan if Isaac Asimov and his books about robots and robotics. So when I came across the following by Ray Zwerin, I felt compelled to share it with you.

THE ROBOTS AMONG US

I am a magazine addict. I find some of the most unusual, freshest, far-reaching information in these slick offerings, which monthly descend upon me as a sort of friendly plague. I find magazines to be not only well-written and beautifully designed, they are also reflective of the latest challenges, problems, and possibilities which confront us.

This summer, the overwhelming winner as feature topic of every monthly issue was the robot. It’s just not possible to ignore some 15 articles on robotics. Whether we like it or not, the robots are among us.

In this age of anagrams, the word robot is refreshing. It is a real word with old roots. It comes from the Czechoslovakian word “robata,” meaning compulsory service. It also has its origin in the old Slavic term “arabeit” meaning toil or trouble. Of course, with little philological imagination “arabeit” becomes “arbeit,” the German for work – a word infamous in Jewish history for its location on the gate into Auschwitz, “Arbeit Mach Frei.”

“What is a robot and what can it do?” I asked that question of all these magazine articles. The answers are astounding and, frankly, overwhelming. In industry they can do any repetitive act from cutting to welding, pounding, pushing, sorting, aligning, counting, stirring, mashing, lifting, etc. Any mass muscle movement can be replicated and robotized. There are robots at work in every facet of industry from drugs to dresses to disc drives, from transportation to telecommunication to tennis training.

Robots can also be used in fine motor areas – to assist in delicate surgical procedures, to manipulate high radiation rods in nuclear research labs and in power reactors. Today there are robotic devices that simulate singing and dancing entertainers, that serve as office building mail carriers, mechanical houseboy martini makers for the affluent, and untiring sewer sweeps for the effluent. Via robotic devises a paraplegic inherits a functioning voice-activated arm, our president inherits an automatic autographing machine that can sign his name to thousands of pieces of mail per hour. Indeed, robotics have come a long way since a little old Swiss watchmaker first employed the principle in one of his cuckoo clocks 400 years ago.

There are some 6800 robots at work in the U.S. today; about a third as many as are to be found in Japan. But the optimists at Carnegie-Mellon University or M.I.T. and similar such robotics labs predict a veritable robot explosion just as soon as they can develop in them a greater sense of touch, an ability to see objects as we see, and a modicum of artificial intelligence. All who work on robots say they are close to a breakthrough in all these areas. In fact, the NASA people are already dreaming of the day when robots will reproduce their likeness in a robot factory made entirely by robots out of moon dust or Mars dust. These devices would then search their foreign space-home, analyze its environment, and prepare the way for human habitation in robot built homes along robot dredged canals, containing a robot created nutrient brew. As one put it – “They only need the sight of a fruit fly, the touch and mobility of an octopus, and the brains of a mouse, and then look out world.” So much for the positive.

There is a negative side to all this advancement in technology. The truth be known, robots began with a negative image. From the moment that Baron Frankenstein and Igor attached kite string to Mary Shelley’s creature in the making, artificial man was to be born evil. Early sci-fi movies employed mechanical monsters that destroyed with impunity. Typical of the genre is the movie The Day the Earth Stood Still wherein a robot shoots laser-like beams and brings the entire U.S. Army to its knees. Great monster, horrible movie.

One of the many fears elicited by the advent of the robot is captured in this wonderful story about Henry Ford and Union leader Walter Reuther who are walking through the car assembly plant one day. “Walter,” Ford said, “look at all these robots. They work for pennies an hour, they never complain, and they won’t go on strike.” “Yep, Henry,” Reuther replied, “but they won’t buy any of your cars either.”

There is a real fear in the marketplace that robots will put people out of work and ultimately cause the well of consumers to run dry. Others insist to the contrary that robotics will create new industries and services leading to millions of new jobs in the future. Robots will also turn today’s laborers into workers. A laborer is one who must earn a living at a job that is of no interest. A worker is one who enjoys a job and grows through it. Robots will become the laborers of tomorrow, the optimists proclaim. Hence, the etymology of its name is both accurate and prescient “arabeit,” “robota” – toiler, laborer.

All this has been by way of introduction – the robot from early Czechoslovakian literature to R2D2, captures our imagination. Whether just mechanical or potentially brutal, of simple intelligence or simply automatic in its actions – robots are now among us.

Yes, robots are among us. And are we not also among them, watching them, mimicking them, learning from them? How much of us has become robotic? In what ways have we become robot-like in our concerns, our actions, and our thoughts?

Robots have no adaptive ability. They have no emotional impulse. They have no means of synthesizing knowledge; no deductive reasoning power.

There are times when we personally become our own worst robot. Especially is this so when we forget, that, after all, we are only human! Robots can’t slow down. They are programmed to operate day after day at one specific pace. Robots don’t get a holy day of rest. Robots don’t know how to relax, to stop to smell the flowers. Robots see everything they do as the most important task on earth. Tunnel vision is their only possible perspective. The perfect robot never varies in its approach to task; it is always good at what it does … or else it would be scrapped. When we constantly ask “how good did I do?” or “was this or that all right?” – when the only self-validation we know comes always from others, we make ourselves a robot.

A robot finds no joy in life. Do you?

A robot takes no pleasure in seeing the end result of its efforts. Do you?

A robot cannot hug and kiss or say “I love you” to a spouse, a parent, a child, or a friend. Do you?

A robot has no fears. Do you admit yours and share them?

A robot cannot celebrate life, or cry, or plead with God for time or healing; it cannot sing from the heart or share in any meaningful way. Do you?

A robot has no anxiety about the conditions of life, has no compassion for others, has no curiosity about the unknown, has no sense of shame or guilt. Pity. It doesn’t know what it’s missing. What would we be without our neuroses? Why … robots, of course.

A robot does not know the difference between true and false, right and wrong, good and evil. Neither do far too many of us.

And a robot cannot err. It cannot fail and try again, fall and rise up again. It cannot make amends or repent. A robot cannot pray to be a better robot.

We have often acted like robots in the year now past. Help us in the days ahead to get us a heart of flesh. Make us vulnerable and human … truly human, only human in the days to come.

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The Ever Shifting Sands of Time


As we get less young, we get more focused on time. Here are some thoughts written by others on this subject. Feel free to share your own.

We are horrible with our time. Our initial reaction is to blame it on Netflix and Facebook. I get it – but at the same time, I don’t.

Seneca lived almost 2,000 years ago. Then, pictures of friends were carved in stone, not posted to Instagram. History was written in real time in the Roman Colosseum so it could later be dramatized on Netflix. But even then, according to Seneca’s first letter in the book Moral Letters, “The largest portion of our life passes while we are doing ill, a goodly share while we are doing nothing, and the whole while we are doing that which is not to the purpose.”

Even then, Seneca was really upset about how people wasted their time: “What man can you show me who places any value on his time, who reckons the worth of each day, who understands that he is dying daily? For we are mistaken when we look forward to death; the major portion of death has already passed. Whatever years lie behind us are in death’s hands.”

His advice: “Hold every hour in your grasp. Lay hold of today’s task, and you will not need to depend so much upon tomorrow’s. While we are postponing, life speeds by.”

Think about this when you waste your next hour on cat videos on Facebook: “Nothing is ours, except time. We were entrusted by nature with the ownership of this single thing, so fleeting and slippery that anyone who can will oust us from possession.”

Seneca struggled with managing his time, too, and he admits it: “I cannot boast that I waste nothing, but I can at least tell you what I am wasting, and the cause and manner of the loss…”

And this is the part I really want my kids to read. Seneca writes:

“I advise you, however, to keep what is really yours; and you cannot begin too early.”

After reading Seneca, it is impossible not to want to retake control of the most important, irreplaceable gift you are given as a birthright – time. But how do you do this? I borrowed my practical solution from Seneca: “Begin at once to live and count each separate day as a separate life.”

“Each separate day as a separate life.” What a brilliant idea. A life bookended by sunrise and sunset. A day is a perfect, meaningful measuring unit. I can look at each day and evaluate how I spent it. If I achieve mostly perfect days, then they’ll spill into a perfect life.

Every January most of us set New Year’s resolutions. Though we don’t think about it that way, we really treat each year as Seneca’s separate life. Except that a year is so long that we forget about our New Year’s resolutions by March.

Each day as a separate life has many advantages. Every single day you have feedback that allows you to make micro course corrections. It focuses you on process versus outcome. If you want to lose weight, instead of setting a New Year’s resolution to lose 30 pounds, set daily resolutions – eat so many calories per day, exercise so many minutes per day, etc. (I can see that setting a goal to exercise so many days a week may be better, and that is okay.) None of us knows how long we have been given on this Earth. But I am certain we will be given more days than years.

The perfect day doesn’t depend on stoplights turning green on my way to work, or a rental car company giving me the car I ordered, or great weather, or the people I come in contact with bending to my will. Epictetus provides great guidance here: “Don’t hope that events will turn out the way you want; welcome events in whichever way they happen: this is the path to peace.”

This gives you an opportunity to live this day as if it was your last (and one day it will be). Imagine if this day was your last day. What would you pay more attention to (your loved ones) and what would you pay less attention to (a rental car mix-up)?

The goal is not to change our activities but to change our state of mind as we carry out those activities. You don’t want to stop thinking about or planning for tomorrow; instead, as you think about tomorrow, remember to appreciate today. Or as Seneca puts it, “Hurry up and live”.

At the end of each day, as the sun sets, I evaluate the day.

Did I spend my time wisely on good problems? When I was with my family and friends, was I present; did I pay attention to them? Was I kind? Did I leave the world better than I found it? If life presented Stoic quizzes (red stoplights, rental car problems etc.), did I pass them? How close did I come to practicing tranquility in motion? (I’ll discuss this in a bit.) Did I interrupt any habits I am establishing? Did I incur any new bad habits? (I am looking for a pattern here. Ordering nachos twice in a row could be the beginning of a new bad habit.)

This brings me to the daily journal. We can examine our “separate life” at the end of each day.

Here is what Seneca wrote: “When the light has been removed and my wife has fallen silent, aware of this habit that’s now mine, I examine my entire day and go back over what I’ve done and said.”

He took this opportunity to reexamine that day’s life, see if he made mistakes, forgive himself for these mistakes, and prescribe himself a corrective course of action. “I conceal nothing from myself, I pass nothing by. I have nothing to fear from my errors when I can say: ‘See that you do not do this anymore. For the moment, I excuse you.’”

Reviewing your day presents an opportunity to learn from your mistakes and correct them. For instance, today I debated politics with a friend for an hour. As I look at that hour, the time was completely wasted, and I won’t get it back. Neither of us changed the mind of the other. In fact, we got a little bit annoyed with each other. The next time the topic of politics comes up, I should let my friend speak his mind and not offer a rebuttal, hoping that the conversation will take a better turn. If it doesn’t, I’ll let him know that I don’t talk politics.

Daily journaling – in the morning, evening, or both – can be a life-changing habit. In addition to being a record of your day and thus your life, the journal provides a canvas for self-reflection and self-examination. I promise you it is a lot cheaper than a therapist. It is a safe place for you to be honest with yourself. Just like meditation, it allows you to identify and address thoughts that are spinning around in your subconscious.

This has another benefit: If you do this before you go to sleep, you’ll sleep better (it worked for me).

Seneca was not the only Stoic who kept a diary. Most of what we know about Marcus came from a personal diary he wrote to himself, which he called Meditations. This was a safe place for Marcus to have a conversation with himself – being an emperor is a very hazardous occupation.

How much to write? Do your best. If you struggle, one sentence may be enough. Just as in creating any new habit, consistency is more important than quantity or even quality.

You can also use your daily journal to time travel. Penn Jillette of Penn & Teller started keeping a journal when he was 30, and at the time he felt that it was already too late to start. He has kept the journal for 35 years without skipping a day. Every day he writes about important conversations he’s had, and reviews books he’s read and movies he’s watched. He writes about things that happened that day. But most importantly, he looks at what he wrote a year, ten years, and 20 years ago on that day.

As Socrates said, “The unexamined life is not worth living.”

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