Failure and Success

 Failure is your best tool to help you navigate through solving interesting problems. They are opportunities that will force you think differently. Every failure is like a springboard to bounce on and leap across obstacles. 

Success on the other hand is not interesting. If you foresee  something, and it happens as you predicted, it becomes instantly boring, there is nothing new you can learn from it. It is the path of least resistance.

Cleanup

 I’ve got to cleanup bookmarks. 

I can’t say I am a tidy person. I have episodes of sporadic cleanup, followed by long periods of “orderly chaos” (which may sound an oxymoron but it is not if you read Chaos book by James Gleick).

Orderliness helps me to plan, that is necessary to allocate slots of time to deal with chaos. I embrace chaotic episodes as time pockets when I can utilise creative energy. Inevitably chaos produces entropy (ie. garbage), which in turn requires cleanup for further planning.  

The balance between tidiness and chaos determines how effective you would be.

Choices of nourishment

How would you prefer to nourish your intellectual curiosity today?

It is Sunday. As I take the first sip from my morning coffee, I think anything is possible, I am full of optimism. 

Then comes the usual torrent of news on your phone, gradually sucking out of my energy, grinding and feeding bit by bit on my livelihood. 

I need delicacies to joyfully satisfy my curiosity, to rejuvenate myself. I don’t want to nibble on peanuts for hours.

Blogging again?

It’s been over a year I didn’t write anything. It could be the covid-19 pandemic, its grinding pace that put our souls to eternal winter sleep.

I knew writing habit has therapeutic quality. Choosing the right words reflected upon ourselves is too a conversation. 

I don’t know if I can regain my writing habit. We’ll see.

A pandemic we had to have

Like the eternal winter in C.S. Lewis classic “The lion, the witch and the wardrobe” we are locked into a never ending hibernation.

In the cosie safety of our homes, we live like beavers, coffee  mug in one hand, iPhone in the other, and a dystopian drama on Netflix.

On the upside, for its survivors Covid-19 gave humanity endless opportunities for reflection.

Suddenly boring suburbia seemed attractive. The local coffee shop, everyday walks in the nature, the clean air, things we had but did not notice much, appeared as healing sanctuaries.

Long spoiled by post-war prosperity, the pandemic tested our evolutionary capacity to deal with sudden ordeals. We unlocked tools in our dusty survival toolkit. We started to cook, sew socks (and masks), and consume less.

We began to appreciate what we have rather than whining on what we don’t.

This was a pandemic we had to have.