The Threshold Between Ease and Suffering

We rarely love what we cannot name. Noticing is the first step to naming; naming the first step to knowing both things and the relations between things. Knowledge may lead to wonder, wonder to care, care to action, action to change. But this is a fragile chain, easily broken—its links must be reforged and rejoined, over and over again.

From Robert Macfarlane on How to Love Birds in a Time of Loss

Journaling excerpt . . . 

Living the now with gusto, being centered and grounded in the present includes existential gratitude for the past and responding with anticipation to the nagging possibilities of potential futures.

A key to distance running is learning to recover on the move. Every step is part of a constant quest to find the fastest maintainable pace. A perfect pace lies right at the threshold between ease and suffering. Too easy and you don't make any progress; too hard and you wear out and have to stop. But you don't steadily maintain an exactly uniform pace--you constantly make micro-adjustments with every stride, evaluating with each one whether to lean faster or back down slower to stay right in that sweet spot. Sometimes you overshoot the mark and find your body forcing you to slow. The key in those moments is to not give in to the discomfort and stop as parts of you urge, it's to make a small adjustment, just enough that your body can correct its oxygen debt, while still nearly maintaining the pace. You rest without stopping. You recover on the move.

Living as a process means you never fully stop. Change and growth are constant. The more you practice, the better your conditioning, the easier it gets to recover on the move--the less you have to slow down in order to not quit. The same is true of change and growth. Slowing is not the same as pausing is not the same as stopping. Learn to adapt and adjust while slowing so as to prevent pausing or stopping. The now is always a wave progressing from the past to the future. Flow with the wave. The present is always liminal.

-

Prompts for this thought:

Woodland Wardens Card: XXXIV

The Snake and Fern-  "Starting Over"

-Reversed-

The Snake and Fern calls us to start anew. In shedding its skin, the shake is a symbol of rebirth and transformation. The fern is associated with new life and new beginnings. Together, they inspire confidence as we embark along a new path. Don't be afraid.

How beautiful it is to be alive.

― Henry Septimus Sutton

Almanac of Birds Card: Passenger Pigeon

the great power of love

is to double

the agonies of change

in order to discover

in each other

a greater velocity of being

a current of amazement

propelled by almost terrifying

tenderness and ease

Now and then its good to pause in our pursuit of happiness and just be happy.

― Guillaume Apollinaire

Osho Zen Card: New Vision

-The Hanged Man-

Surrender, Suspension, Shifting Perspectives

"Control" by letting go.

"Win" by surrendering.

Open. Be open. Accept and flow.

success and failure are fluid constructs

value is situational and relational

play a game of noticing, questioning, and adapting

inhabit the space between what you know and what you don't

embrace a life of perpetual transition, a generative series of experiments.

enrich your life with systematic curiosity

wake up each day excited to discover what new crossroads life will present

― Anne Laure Le Cunff, in Tiny Experiments

Now is not where we are supposed to live, isolated from the poignant and maturing illusions of memory or the joyous lineaments of anticipation: "now" does not exist without its astonishing past nor its dreamy, not-to-believed future. . . . 

Now is an invitation to the timeless, in which past present and future can live together.

Entering the timeless "now," the isolation of any present moment disappears, bound as it is to every other moment that has occurred and every moment that will occur. Now is an experience where past, present. and future disappear as separate entities and join together again as one whole, turning us inside out and outside in in the process. Now is always more than we can presently understand. Now is never just now. Now is a word that can allow us to experience ourselves as a wave form that carries origin, arrival, and present illumination in one whole.

Only our precious, always changing, always maturing memory and an equally growing sense of anticipation for the future can make the "now" fully possible.

― David Whyte, in Consolations II

What is a wave, which moves on water without carrying with it any drop of water? A wave is not an object, in the sense that it is not made of matter that travels with it. The atoms of our body, as well, flow in and away from us. We, like waves, and like all objects, are a flux of events; we are processes, for a brief time monotonous.

― Carlo Rovelli, in Reality Is Not What It Seems

Nagging is necessary in every committed human relationship: because nagging is the way love tries to survive when it feels it has no other way.

Nagging is the way we signal our helplessness but also our underlying commitment not to go away. . . . 

We are nagged quite often because we are not really listening, to another, to our conscience, to what is good for our health, to the courageous, beckoning path we refuse again and again to take. . . . 

Nagging cannot be eliminated from relationships of close affection: nagging is almost a true sign of real commitment. . . . 

To live in a truly nag-free environment, is often to live without friendship, without intimacy, without real, collaborative, collegiate, creative relationships. . . . 

Whether we nag or are nagged, nagging is by implication a diagnostic of real intimacy.

― David Whyte, in Consolations II

The present is always liminal.

Always liminal.

Exquisite Mystery: The Beauty of Being Unfathomable

At the level of the mind, we yearn for transparency: of the self, the other, the world.

This yearning to make our unknowable existence even marginally less murky has produced the extraordinary body of knowledge that we call science. How marvelous it is that we can watch a jellyfish—a creature so wholly unlike us—and understand the inner workings of its translucent biology, even if we will never know how it feels to exist in a body that blends in with the ocean. . . . 

While we may never know what it’s like to be a jellyfish, we know that their knowing is entirely unlike our own. . . . 

For all the luminous beauty that transparency offers, we exist in a culture that treats it as an obligation rather than the gift it is. . . . 

I long for a society in which understanding is not a prerequisite for respect; rather, respect opens the door for understanding. There are aspects of my existence, of transition, that are enigmatic even to me. I have come to revere their exquisite mystery.

It is a beautiful thing to feel understood. There is also beauty in letting ourselves be unfathomable. Between the translucent membrane that sets apart all we know and all we don’t, life is lived. It is possible to observe the glow of a jellyfish without dimming its wonder. We can regard ourselves, one another, and this vast collection of mysteries that is the universe—at times lustrously clear and others impenetrably obscure—and see it all as worthy of awe.

There is beauty being unfathomable. Life is lived between all we know and all we don't. Understanding is not a prerequisite for respect. See all as worthy of awe.

I don't have much original writing or content today, just some ideas I want to add to my collection. Things I appreciate that I want to keep track of.

Now that I've encountered it in this interview, I plan to read this book.

A Scientific Case for Climate Optimism with Tom Crowther

Degraded landscapes can recover when people and ecosystems begin reinforcing one another. In his new book, Nature’s Echo, he shows how feedback loops do not exclusively drive collapse. These processes also shape galaxies, planets, societies, economies, forests, and the spread of regenerative action.

The result is a climate book unusually centered on joy and promise and refreshingly distinct from the everyday climate coverage we’re used to. Without minimizing the scale of the climate crisis, Crowther argues that anxiety can reproduce itself, while wonder, purpose, and pleasure can build momentum of their own. From Costa Rica’s forest recovery to rural restoration projects in Ethiopia, Ukraine, India, Iceland, and beyond, he sees evidence that nature and livelihoods can improve together—and that each often depends on the other. . . . 

Feedback loops can go in any direction. They are all over the place with regeneration, too. Every time a rural community makes more money from bringing back nature, that incentivizes them to bring back more nature, which brings them more money, which incentivizes more nature. I’ve been lucky enough in my career to see this in hundreds of thousands of locations around the world. A degraded landscape is never the most valuable opportunity for local communities. When nature starts to take hold, livelihoods improve, which improves nature, which improves livelihoods. . . . 

We have a society dominated by climate anxiety. It is completely understandable and relatable. I’ve certainly been there myself. But if we take a step back and look at the feedback loops shaping our universe, and the causal nature of our existence and our beliefs, panic and anxiety only propagate more panic and anxiety. . . . 

When I was writing this book, I was thinking about the next generation who are panicking about climate change, because I truly believe they have the potential to transform everything just by the way they look at the world. . . . 

The first thing is recognizing that you are inseparable from nature. The little loops you are creating are not separate from the rest of the system. . . . 

When you realize that, you realize your actions, whether you want them to or not, are contributing to feedback loops. If you find a regenerative solution that you enjoy doing, the individual action itself will likely have a proportional contribution. But the joy you get out of it will make you intrinsically more motivated to do it again. In the process of doing it again, you will probably gain more joy, which might incentivize you to do it again.

That process will also feed into all the people around you who see how much joy you are getting from it. . . . 

Feedback loops will happen whether we want them to or not, but they will always propagate the qualities we put into them. . . . 

I built an online platform called Restor.eco . . . You can go on the platform now, and it is like Google Maps, but every dot on the world is a good thing.

I was thinking about the concept of positive feedback loops when I made myself a cup of tea at work the other day. How I always, once I have poured water for myself, refill the electric kettle and set it to heat again--just in case someone happens to come along after me to make their own tea, to prepare the station and make their experience more pleasant. I always hope the people before and after me do the same, and believe my doing so might help encourage that. In other words, I try to contribute to a positive feedback loop around our tea station in the hopes that we keep paying it forward to the future.

It helped me realize how many of my tiny daily habits work in the same way. I have those habits not for any personal gain in that present moment, but in order to create patterns and systems that lead to more gain in the future--for both myself and others. Micro feedback loops are everywhere, and investing positively now helps grow more positive environments later.

The news has been flooded with stories about how AI is going to be taking over many jobs and putting people out of work. Everyone seems surprised and alarmed, caught off guard--yet economists have been predicting a reduction in the need for human labor due to technological and industrial advances since at least the 1930s and science fiction writers have been telling stories about it for as long

Our current family evening readaloud is the Arc of a Scythe trilogy by Neal Shusterman, and a couple of nights ago we read this bit of narration in the second book, Thunderhead. The Thunderhead, in this world, is the evolution of "the cloud" after the singularity, and it has already conquered all of the world's and humanity's problems (even death); now it simply manages things.

The Basic Income Guarantee predated my ascension to power. Even before me, many nations had begun to pay their citizens for merely existing. It was necessary, because with increasing automation, unemployment was rapidly becoming the norm rather than the exception. So the concept of "welfare" and "social security" was reinvented as the BIG: All citizens had a right to a small piece of the pie, regardless of their ability or desire to contribute.

Humans, however, have a basic need beyond just income. They need to feel useful, productive, or at least busy--even if that busywork provides nothing to society.

Therefore, under my benevolent leadership, anyone who wants a job can have one--and at salaries above the BIG, so that there is incentive to achieve, and a method of measuring one's success. I help every citizen find employment that is fulfilling for them. Of course, very few of the jobs are necessary, since they could all be accomplished by machines--but the illusion of purpose is critical to a well-adjusted population.

 -The Thunderhead

See also: Utopia for Realists: How We Can Build the Ideal World by Rutger Bregman (21014). My review:

Did you know that 50 years ago, during the Nixon administration, the U.S. almost passed a bill creating a universal basic income? Test cases and studies had been done, all evidence supported the idea as feasible and universally beneficial, and it had widespread public and political support. Experts at the time were also predicting vastly reduced workweeks as machines replaced the need for human labor, so it made sense to provide income since there wouldn't be enough work to go around. Then the narrative changed. As predicted, essential work has since become a smaller and smaller part of the economy, but instead of leisure and meaningful pursuits, we have replaced it with what Bregman calls "bullshit jobs." We're now working harder than ever even as inequality has grown drastically and the government safety net has been reduced.

In this book, Bregman tells this story and many others in the hopes of changing our controlling narratives about work and the role of government. He makes a convincing case that the world now has more aggregate wealth than ever before in history and living conditions are better than they have ever been, and provides plenty of evidence that if we simply found better ways to share--to redistribute--that wealth we would all be better off. As predicted, machines are gradually taking over most labor and most jobs aren't really needed except as ways to create unnecessary wealth.

Bregman advocates for three big ideas: universal basic income, a 15-hour workweek, and open borders. He argues that if we found a way to make these a reality, we would all--even the wealthy--have an improved standard of living. If only we can find a way to tell the story so these ideas seem natural and logical instead of radical, they might even be possible (his final chapter is titled, "How Ideas Change the World"). It's an intriguing, fascinating, and (for me, at least) inspiring argument, well-documented and supported with research.

Highly accessible and entertaining writing, in addition to offering interesting content.

More in Telling a Different Story of Work.

I love this idea. It absolutely makes sense to me.

Our Emerging Planetary Nervous System

One way civilization might meet the interwoven crises of our time — by aligning human, machine and planetary intelligence into a working whole. The notion of intelligence as merely a central processor is behind us. When these three strands align, we gain more than information; we gain coherence, the synchronization that emerges when signals, rhythms and thresholds harmonize across domains. This kind of attunement is the state in which intelligence becomes more than the sum of its parts. . . . 

1. Human Intelligence — The Integrative Cortex . . . 

Intelligence begins with choice. As the philosopher Forrest Landry argues, it’s not how much we know, but what we choose to care about amid complexity. That is the ethical function of human intuition: to choose alignment, to decide what matters in the moment when information overwhelms us and the stakes shift beneath our feet.  . .  .

Intuition grounded in place already functions as infrastructure, as the quiet coherence between signal and response.

2. Machine Intelligence — The Rapid Reflex . . . 

Machine intelligence at its most vital: not replacing judgment, but extending our senses. From wetland rhythms to weather patterns to civic discourse, these approaches illuminate hidden structures at speeds that allow human and planetary intelligences to respond in unity. . . . 

In a nervous-system frame, that’s what a reflex is: pattern recognition arriving in time to change behavior. This isn’t merely faster prediction; it’s a fundamentally different way of aligning machine perception with planetary rhythms that communities can act upon. . . . 

Machine intelligence serves as civilization’s reflex arc, detecting signals that are too complex or too subtle for unaided human perception. As computer scientist Norbert Wiener once observed, these computational systems don’t “think” for us — they extend our capacity to sense and respond to a world whose complexity increasingly outpaces our biological limits.

3. Planetary Intelligence — The Foundational Body . . . 

Planetary intelligence in action — the body of the system with its cycles, systemic thresholds and interconnections setting the terms that all other forms of intelligence must respect.

The planet speaks through cadence and boundaries. Its voice can be found in carbon and water cycles, jet streams and ocean currents, migration corridors and nutrient flows. For billions of years, Earth has self-regulated through such coupled feedback. . .  .

When researchers track monarch butterfly migration routes through this system, they show how climate shifts are rewriting ancient flight paths that are only visible when traced across decades. The butterflies themselves become messengers, their changing routes speaking volumes about the planetary boundaries we are crossing. . . . 

Planetary intelligence manifests as signals and limits that guide action. Ice phenology, soil moisture, atmospheric rivers, biodiversity indices — this is Earth’s language, communicating boundaries that we must respect. . . . 

This circulation across dimensions prioritizes what is salient at the edge rather than only what is legible at the center. Local knowledge and agency become foundations, supported rather than supplanted by technical systems. The goal isn’t control, but coherence — aligning human choice with planetary rhythms at speeds that matter. . . . 

What’s changing is not only how we use technology but also how we relate to one another and to a living world. No longer seeking the illusion of perfect foresight, we are moving from prediction to participation, learning to sense and respond with the wisdom that comes from being in dialogue with living systems.

The architecture of our attention transforms as well, flowing from central command to distributed coherence. In the body’s wisdom, the fingertips don’t wait for the brain’s permission to pull back from heat. Similarly, signals at the edge — in communities, in ecosystems, at boundaries — often register shifts long before they become legible to models at the center. We are learning to listen to what the margins know first.

Perhaps most fundamentally, we are shifting from optimization, the restless hunt for the highest peak on a single metric, to attunement, where success means keeping elements in balance. Fire, water, carbon, attention: these elements ask not to be maximized, but to be held in reciprocal maintenance.

And finally, we are walking away from extraction and toward relationship. Knowledge no longer flows in one direction — from subject to observer or from resource to extractor. Instead, it circulates. Communities and ecologies transform from data sources into partners and from resources into teachers. In this relational paradigm, intelligence doesn’t reside in any single node, but rather it emerges in the sacred space between them.

The power is in the interconnection: when planetary constraints, machine signals and human judgment form a circuit. Planetary sapience won’t come from an all-knowing AGI, but from more-than-human intelligence cultivated in symbiosis. As biologist Lynn Margulis reminds us in her book “Symbiosis in Cell Evolution,” evolution advances by mutualistic coupling. In the same way, satellites, sensors and models become organs of sensation only when paired with cultures, ethics and governance that honor living thresholds.

Symbiosis. Relational, distributed intelligence. Connected, collective ecosystems, not individuals. Coherence.

My instinctive, immediate response to this meme someone sent me . . . point taken. :-)

I can't not explain. :-)

we sleep to our own lives

our brains deceiving us

in the hidden substates of hours

but floating is not living

it is in the well of loss

that life is found

peer into the darkness

that deep night of meaning

and you will wake up lighter

A Library Primer

I want to capture something I spent the past day-and-a-half drafting as potential training content for my library system. I'm sure it will change and morph before being implemented, but I enjoy it in this state and want to preserve the thoughts.

Unpacking the Library's Mission and Vision: An Introduction to the Library Perspective

Mission
[Our] County Library provides access to ideas, information, experiences and materials that support and enrich people's lives.
 
Vision
[Our] County Library creates an environment for people to learn, to explore, to enjoy, to create, to connect.
 
Values

• Customer needs come first. We place the highest priority on service to our customers and treat every request with equal value.
  
• People are respected. We recognize the contributions of our staff and we treat all our customers and each other with respect.
  
• Access to information is ensured. We ensure access to information for people of all ages, abilities and means.
  
• This is a learning organization. We commit to the professional growth and enrichment of our staff and volunteers.
  
• Freedom of information is protected. We protect your freedom to read and view all library information.
  
• Privacy and confidentiality are rights. We safeguard your right to request and obtain information in confidence.
  
• Basic services are provided without charge. We provide basic library services free of charge.
  
• Quality service is important. We strive to deliver the highest quality services possible.
  
• Integrity is a commitment. We follow the highest ethical standards which have been adopted by [our] County government and our profession.
  
• We are stewards of community resources. We respect the contributions of the community to its library. We hold ourselves accountable for the efficient and effective use of all resources which you commit to us -- people, time, assets and funds.
  

 

"I really want to take thirty seconds to salute librarians: you truly are the heroes and heroines of free speech and of democracy. You are on the front lines. It takes a great deal of intellectual courage and principle. All of us who care about democracy and civil liberties and freedom of speech and thought are completely dependent on and grateful to you."
 

Nadine Strossen, a leading voice on free speech and civil liberties:

• President of the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) for 18 years,
• The first woman to lead the ACLA,
• American Law professor at New York Law School
• A senior fellow at FIRE, the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression,
• 2023 of the Judy Blume Lifetime Achievement Award for free speech from the National Coalition Against Censorship,
• Author of several influential books about freedom of speech, including The War on Words.

From "The War on Words: A recorded conversation with Nadine Strossen and [our collection development manager" at [our] County Library on May 6, 2026 (available in the LMS).

Let’s unpack [our] County Library.
 
The library of [our] County. The library belonging to [our] County.
 
Who or what is “[our] County?” The residents of the geographical area. So, more specifically: The library belonging to the residents of [our] County. Paid for by anyone who resides in [our] County. Owned by “the public.” Governed (ultimately) by officials elected by the residents of [our] County to represent them.
 
The Library is truly a public, democratic organization. The citizens of [our] County have, through those appointed and hired by their elected representatives, chosen to create policies that allow all people to get library cards and make use of the library. All people. In essence, everyone who walks through our doors or in any other way interacts with us becomes part of our “public,” JoCo resident or not.
 
That leads to the first item in our list of values, customer needs come first. The library is a community resource owned collectively by the public. Anyone who wants gets to use the library because it belongs to them. Our purpose is to facilitate their use of it. They pay us to help them access what is theirs.
 
In a business setting, a “customer” is a potential owner of the items or services on offer. The goal of the business is to create an exchange where the customer chooses to pay them. The business doesn’t exist if it can’t get customers to pay. The business must inherently have that self-serving need to get others to part with their money, which can sometimes compete with the customers’ needs.
 
That economic exchange has already occurred in the library. Our “customers” have already bought and paid for the library. We already work for them. In theory, the library has no needs of its own. Our only purpose is to serve the public. To serve each and every person who interacts with us. That need comes first.
 
Much of the time we use the word “patron” to describe library users to help us keep in mind that subtle but important distinction from the business-oriented meaning of “customer.” It’s a shift in perspective, an orientation for considering everything else. We’re not exchanging or transacting with our customers, we’re serving them.

Some thoughts at the junction where people are respected and we are stewards of community resources intersect.

 
Each person who uses the library owns it; and, at the same time, they share that ownership with everyone else who also uses it. They can check out materials and access all our other offerings for free (basic services are provided without charge) because those things already belong to them; and they must be responsible for those items and return them in a timely manner so each of the other owners gets an equal chance for their own access and use. Each person has individual rights and is also responsible for not infringing on the rights of others.
 
The library is based on sharing and taking turns. Much of our work is maintaining that system of sharing and taking turns.
 
A helpful concept for collection development and readers’ advisory is that of “windows” and “mirrors.” In the library we like to talk about how books function as windows and as mirrors.
 
A book that is a mirror is one that you see yourself in. It’s comfortable and familiar and it makes you feel seen. It validates you, because it is someone else sharing experiences you know and feelings you have, and in doing so affirming that you are not alone. It makes you feel connected to the story, to the storyteller, and to others who also recognize themselves in that book. It affirms and represents your values and worldview.
 
A book that is a window is one that helps you see outside of yourself. It relates experiences you’ve never known, feelings you’ve never dealt with, perspectives you’ve never considered. It takes you somewhere else, gives you an opportunity to know life as someone you’ve never been. It is about other people, those with different values, interests, and worldviews.
 
The library has a responsibility to provide both windows and mirrors for every member of the public. Each person contributes to what we buy and how we choose to use their money, so we should make sure that each person sees us buying and doing things they would for themselves.  We should provide each person with mirrors. As a collective body, though, the public contains a multitude of values, interests, and worldviews—so each person will find a large amount of our collection and services are windows from their individual perspective. Those perspectives might seem strange to them, or even detrimental or offensive; but as long as some community individual finds value in it—and it meets the standards of our collection development policy—we have a responsibility to provide it.

 
Informing our guiding statements as an underlying foundation is the idea of intellectual freedom. The American Library Association’s website describes intellectual freedom as the rights of library users to read, seek information, and speak freely as guaranteed by the First Amendment. Intellectual freedom is a core value of the library profession, and a basic right in our democratic society. A publicly supported library provides free, equitable, and confidential access to information for all people of its community. The ALA considers advocacy for intellectual freedom a substantial part of its mission and provides extensive support.
 
Two particular documents are at the top of any list of that support: the Library Bill of Rights and The Freedom to Read Statement. [our] County Library includes both in our Collection Development Policy and governing documents.
 
The Library Bill of Rights was initially adopted by the ALA in 1939 and has been periodically confirmed ever since. Its core tenets:
 

I. Books and other library resources should be provided for the interest, information, and enlightenment of all people of the community the library serves. Materials should not be excluded because of the origin, background, or views of those contributing to their creation.

 

II. Libraries should provide materials and information presenting all points of view on current and historical issues. Materials should not be proscribed or removed because of partisan or doctrinal disapproval.

 

III. Libraries should challenge censorship in the fulfillment of their responsibility to provide information and enlightenment.

 

IV. Libraries should cooperate with all persons and groups concerned with resisting abridgment of free expression and free access to ideas.

 

V. A person’s right to use a library should not be denied or abridged because of origin, age, background, or views.

 

VI. Libraries which make exhibit spaces and meeting rooms available to the public they serve should make such facilities available on an equitable basis, regardless of the beliefs or affiliations of individuals or groups requesting their use.

 

VII. All people, regardless of origin, age, background, or views, possess a right to privacy and confidentiality in their library use. Libraries should advocate for, educate about, and protect people’s privacy, safeguarding all library use data, including personally identifiable information.

 
The Freedom to Read Statement was first issued in 1953. It is a longer document worth reading in its entirety; here are key excerpts:
 
The freedom to read is essential to our democracy. It is continuously under attack. . . .
 
Most attempts at suppression rest on a denial of the fundamental premise of democracy: that the ordinary individual, by exercising critical judgment, will select the good and reject the bad. We trust Americans to recognize propaganda and misinformation, and to make their own decisions about what they read and believe. . . .
 
We believe that free communication is essential to the preservation of a free society and a creative culture. . . . We believe that publishers and librarians have a profound responsibility to give validity to that freedom to read by making it possible for the readers to choose freely from a variety of offerings.
 
The freedom to read is guaranteed by the Constitution. Those with faith in free people will stand firm on these constitutional guarantees of essential rights and will exercise the responsibilities that accompany these rights.
 
We therefore affirm these propositions:

1. It is in the public interest for publishers and librarians to make available the widest diversity of views and expressions, including those that are unorthodox, unpopular, or considered dangerous by the majority.
   
2. Publishers, librarians, and booksellers do not need to endorse every idea or presentation they make available. It would conflict with the public interest for them to establish their own political, moral, or aesthetic views as a standard for determining what should be published or circulated.
   
3. It is contrary to the public interest for publishers or librarians to bar access to writings on the basis of the personal history or political affiliations of the author.
   
4. There is no place in our society for efforts to coerce the taste of others, to confine adults to the reading matter deemed suitable for adolescents, or to inhibit the efforts of writers to achieve artistic expression.
   
5. It is not in the public interest to force a reader to accept the prejudgment of a label characterizing any expression or its author as subversive or dangerous.
   
6. It is the responsibility of publishers and librarians, as guardians of the people's freedom to read, to contest encroachments upon that freedom by individuals or groups seeking to impose their own standards or tastes upon the community at large; and by the government whenever it seeks to reduce or deny public access to public information.
   
7. It is the responsibility of publishers and librarians to give full meaning to the freedom to read by providing books that enrich the quality and diversity of thought and expression. By the exercise of this affirmative responsibility, they can demonstrate that the answer to a "bad" book is a good one, the answer to a "bad" idea is a good one.

As members of the collective public, as patrons do, staff will at times find a large amount of our collection and services are windows (not mirrors) from their personal perspectives; staff will encounter materials, viewpoints, or patron behaviors they personally disagree with. If an individual in the community finds value in it—and it meets the standards of our collection development policy—we have a responsibility to provide it. Public library service asks us to distinguish between our personal preferences and our responsibility to provide equitable access for the entire community.

Our mission statement makes clear the purpose of the library: [our] County Library provides access. “Provides access.” Access. One of our values is access to information is ensured. The Freedom to Read Statement and Library Bill of Rights are peppered with use of the words “access,” “provide,” “make available,” and similar.  The library itself is a collection of materials, spaces, and people paid for with the collective wealth of [our] County; the purpose of the library is to be available to that public. To be accessible. The library belongs to the people, and they get access to it.
 
Access means many things. It starts with the collection itself. Budgets always come with limits and constraints, and stewardship means responsible use of the budget. We have collection specialists who work hard to provide the right types and amounts of materials within the budgets they have to represent all of the different ideas and viewpoints needed in our collection. When patrons don’t find the materials they’re looking for, we offer them the Suggest for Purchase form and work to request it from a partner institution via Interlibrary Loan.
 
Access also means providing well-organized, pleasant, convenient spaces—both physical and digital. It means things are as easy to find as possible. And it means friendly staff who are happy to help them, both directly and indirectly. Staff who engage with them, listen to them, direct and assist them. Staff who make recommendations in displays and booklists, who are familiar enough with the collection to make recommendations in conversation.
 
When a patron is taking their turn using a part of the library, we often say they have checked it out. Patrons “check out” books, DVDs, video games, ebooks, newspaper access, database access, and all parts of the collection. They also “check out” pieces of equipment in the Maker Space by making reservations. In the same way, they “check out” rooms and spaces. And, in a sense, they “check out” staff.
 
Just like every other part of the library, staff is a resource available to patrons. We work for each one of them, and they get to take turns using our attention, expertise, and service. For the moments when staff are interacting with patrons, we are those patrons’ agents. Our goal is to understand, represent, and help meet those patrons’ needs (within the boundaries established by the patron code of behavior and the guideline of mutual respect) by helping them access the ideas, information, experiences and materials that support and enrich their lives.
 
Access means that both freedom of information is protected and that privacy and confidentiality are rights. Providing access means we look to say “yes” as much as possible (in consideration of the competing needs of others). We believe in free and open information, so if it is out there, we want to help patrons gain access to it. And we want to do so in ways that preserve the individual privacy and confidentiality of each patron. When we are “checked out” to a patron, we are there for them alone in that moment. While their ownership of the library is shared, their use of it is individual.
 
“Neutrality” is a big word in the library profession, one of our core ideals. The materials, services, and staff of the library are shared by a large community with a wide diversity of views and values, many of which are divergent. “Neutral” is a term that applies to the congregated, collective whole of the collection—and not necessarily each individual part. Every item, ultimately, is created by a person or group who exist in one place and time, which means every item will emerge from a particular perspective. Every item has a point of view, including blind spots and biases; even those aiming for neutrality can never entirely shed perspective. So, neutrality is not an individual trait, it is a collective one.
 
The first proposition of The Freedom to Read Statement says libraries are “to make available the widest diversity of views and expressions.” Neutrality emerges from the conversation between diverse viewpoints and experiences; it exists in the space in between them. By providing a good balance of perspectives, we keep that meeting area as centrally located as possible. That area is fluid as it constantly shifts and evolves; neutrality is an ongoing, often uncomfortable negotiation, not a static resting place. The library as a collective whole is neutral, and staff must dwell in that space when they are representing the library.
 
We must dwell in neutrality so that we can meet each patron in their own perspective. Patron ownership of the library is shared; their use is individual. When we help patrons, we let them determine the value of different viewpoints in order to provide them access to what they need. The Freedom to Read Statement says that the library rests on “the fundamental premise of democracy: that the ordinary individual, by exercising critical judgment, will select the good and reject the bad. We trust Americans.” We trust our patrons, and we show that trust by providing them the greatest access possible.
 
The library does not exist to direct people toward approved conclusions; it exists to preserve conditions under which free people can explore, discover, judge, and choose for themselves.

Which leads to our vision: [Our] County Library creates an environment for people to learn, to explore, to enjoy, to create, to connect.
 
This speaks to the types of experiences we aspire to curate for our patrons; to the quality of their experiences, which we help create. It means we operate out of respect for every person (people are respected), providing each with quality service (quality service is important). In order to do so, we strive to be our best (integrity is a commitment) and always look for ways to be better (this is a learning organization).
 
The word “respect” shares a root with spectate, inspect, spectacles, perspective, and more. That root is all about looking and seeing. To re-spect (“look back”) means to look again, to look more closely. To re-spect a person means to look at them again in order to see them more clearly. It requires slowing down to escape our first impressions, assumptions, possible judgments, and potential responses. It means giving someone our focused attention and attending to them fully, and begins with looking, listening, and probing in order to understand them better. Respect means taking the time to understand their perspective enough to be able to operate from it. To walk in their shoes, to see from their eyes. It starts with curiosity.
 
Librarianship is in some ways about ensuring intellectual freedom and theoretical philosophies; yet in practice the heart of the work is relational care and facilitation of experiences. We provide quality service because our work is hospitality--we are hosts for those interacting with their collection, spaces, and services. We want those experiences to be stellar. Patrons should feel they are treated with dignity and made to feel at home.
 
Because if intellectual freedom relies on our ability to trust patrons, the patron experience using the library depends on their ability to trust us. The library only functions if the public:

• trusts staff not to judge them,
• trusts privacy will be respected,
• trusts access won’t depend on ideology,
• trusts the collection reflects many lives,
• trusts resources are being stewarded fairly, and
• trusts that the institution belongs to everyone, not just the loudest or most culturally dominant group.

We earn this trust through our constant, common, mundane actions. Smiles and consistent friendliness to make people feel welcome. Attention and assistance when asked for. Maintaining clean, pleasant, well-designed spaces and an organized, accessible collection. Creating appealing displays, lists, and interactions that highlight our collection and services. All of that is part of the curation of individual visits so each person feels properly hosted.
 
Respect is realized not as a belief but as a collection of moments that accrue over time. Respect is an action, is something we constantly do. It is in feeling respected and trusted that our patrons will come to trust us.
 
These ideas all seem simple enough in theory; yet reality is always murky. Hosting is emotional labor, and by being human we are prone to weariness, distraction, annoyance, and preoccupation. It’s not uncommon for patrons to have competing needs, whether that is multiple people needing our attention simultaneously, volume and behavior that is not considerate of shared space, or not interacting with us in respectful ways. “Neutrality” is always somewhat ambiguous and mushy, and it generally leaves each person feeling less fully represented than they would prefer. And, of course, we ourselves are members of the public with identities and convictions. Achieving our aspirations takes work.
 
We find help in that by committing ourselves to integrity and learning. We stay grounded in our values and cognizant of our mission, measuring each little, momentary decision against them. We hold ourselves to standards. We help colleagues and ask for help when we need it, because none of us are alone in this work. And being human means being imperfect, so we always have room to improve. We maintain the humility to believe that we always have more to learn and that our growth never stops.
 
[Our] County Library belongs to everyone. It is a shared public resource—collection, spaces, staff, services, experiences—where many perspectives coexist. It works because people respectfully share access and take turns interacting with the library. No one fully controls the environment, though staff exist to design, curate, and host it. That work sometimes asks us to serve people unlike ourselves, it is imperfect and ongoing, and trust must continually be renewed through behavior—through thousands of ordinary interactions, we preserve a public space built on access, trust, curiosity, and shared civic life.

We Plant Potential Realities

we plant potential realities

hoping to be intertwined in the phenomena of coexistence

success and failure are fluid constructs

value is situational and relational

play a game of noticing, questioning, and adapting

inhabit the space between what you know and what you don't

embrace a life of perpetual transition, a generative series of experiments

discard the unrealistic expectation of always being at your best

life is made of cycles of being lost and finding ourselves again

respect your natural rhythms

we grow in circles

act in harmony with the flow of life

On a near-daily basis while doing the dishes during this time of year, I get to watch hummingbirds feed at the honeysuckle flowers on the fence outside the window behind our kitchen sink. It always adds a small dose of happiness to my day. 

I recently learned that honeysuckle is considered a destructively invasive species for the way it overgrows other plants. While I don't find that information particularly notable or relevant for my own personal use, I'm sure it's good for me to have the awareness. The house we bought 10-15 years ago has three honeysuckle bunches growing along that section of fence, though they haven't spread or changed significantly over the time I've observed them. Perhaps they're a different variety than the harmfully invasive type.

I don't find the information that honeysuckle is "bad" particularly notable or relevant, yet the comment lingers in my mind. Learning of honeysuckle's dark side impacted me because it changed my framework for thinking about the plant, the basic way I view and understand it. It shifted my worldview.

I have a vague memory, unmoored from location or context, from when I was very young, of being with my mom when she introduced me to the plant for the first time. We were in a yard or park and, seeing a large, flowery plant on the border fence, Mom exclaimed, "Oh, honeysuckle!" She was clearly delighted. She told me you could pluck off the blossoms and suck the sweet nectar from them for a treat. Then she demonstrated a few times, projecting enjoyment, and helped me try a few.

I don't think I've ever sucked honeysuckle nectar since, yet that memory has lingered as a foundational  encounter with a bit of unexpected magic. Something so ordinary that could delight us so simply. A chance happening across a secret bit of sweetness. And a part of me has always associated those flowers with that feeling. You never know when you might stumble on a magical moment; the possibility always exists.

Learning to think of that same source of magic as potentially harmful and destructive complicates my feelings, adds layers and complexity to my internal narrative. Yet it doesn't ruin my association so much as make me appreciate even more the truth that wonderful things can also be bad--and bad things can also be wonderful--depending on context, intensity, and circumstances. Everything depends on how it relates to its surroundings. Does it fit and mutually benefit or does it compete and cause harm? The value of honeysuckle, like everything else, is situational and relational.

The problem with the feed algorithms is they suffer from short attention spans, short-term thinking, and narrow, myopic vision--they can only focus on a couple of things at a time, and every time something shiny and new comes along some currently existing thing is dropped in its place. They don't allow you to build depth and breadth in what they show you, a wide range of diverse and eclectic interests. They just want to intensely inundate you with sameness and keep blinders on you.

[Younger], age 10, walking out of the kitchen with the breakfast plate I made him (and thus a bit muffled), "Thank you, oh father and God."

"You're welcome. But not God, just father."

"No, what I said was 'father of gods.'"

"Ah, well that's okay then."

In the late 80s, my small town Kansas high school had a few computers in a corner of the typewriter room. I spent many of my free hours after school pecking away at the keyboard trying to reproduce the D&D character sheets that were for sale, as I preferred my own customized versions. Coordinating dashes and lines to make borders for text boxes, calculating the number of spacebar taps to align things when spit out of the dot matrix printer, all on a black screen with green text.

I've never told the boys that story, but now they're playing D&D themselves. Pre-printed character sheets are cheap, plentiful, and standard. And [Younger], just like I did, prefers to make his own customized versions for his characters. Perhaps it's genetic.

“We plant potential realities” is from How High We Go in the Dark by Sequoia Nagamatsu, of which I wrote:

A moving meditation on death, grief, love, connection, family, and hope in the form of a mosaic collection of lightly interconnected, inter-generational stories. A familiar world in the near future changing dramatically in response to a global plague and the impacts of climate change. The stories of scientists working on various cures and adaptations in response to the tragedies. Euthanasia theme parks for children and resorts for adults who want to enjoy their final days. Pursuit of space travel to escape a ravaged planet. It's not about those situations, though--its about the people living through those situations. The comedian who finds a niche hosting families at the theme park. The scientist developing human-compatible pigs to use for replacement organs and body parts who comes to think of one of his subjects as his son. Many others; many perspectives on how people deal with mortality. This is a gentle, compassionate book about what it means to be human in the midst of tumult and darkness.

In the context of the book, "we plant potential realities" is said by an actual world creator from a race of immortal space beings who literally grow planets and the life on them. But I like the phrase as a much more everyday thought: because we are in relationship with others and the world around us--not to mention ourselves--our every action and choice impacts who who are later, other people, and our environments. Most impacts are so common and miniscule we don't notice them, but they add to the flow of the future; we have a hand in shaping the state of things. What we "plant" now will grow into something later. We are constantly choosing how we want to nudge the direction of future potential realities.

We plant potential realities.

From Reweaving the Rainbow

Each weekend, we take one science news article and let the words in it come loose, come alive, arrange themselves into whatever the unconscious wants to say to the mind, then we exchange what emerges: poems, koans, subterranean currents of thought and feeling that over and over surprise us, invite us into deeper conversation with each other and with ourselves, delight us with what staggeringly different things two minds can make of the same material, yet how kindred in underlying spirit.

I particularly appreciate the two most recent offerings:

we can't disentangle

experience from loss

for living is a fatal activity

in which there is no always

but in the wild current of presence

encountering time

through change after change

what could be more human

than hoping to be enough

hoping to be intertwined

in the landscape of the other

forests dense with questions

phenomena of coexistence

breathing to be known

From Breathing to Be Known.

They both speak to the book that follows--and the rest of this post.

Of Tiny Experiments: How to Live Freely in a Goal-Obsessed World by Anne-Laure Le Cunff:

Embrace a life of perpetual transition--not a frightening limbo, but a generative series of experiments.

In close partnership with the popular concept of having a growth mindset is Le Cunff's advocacy for living with an experimental mindset. This guidebook explains what that is and offers practical, actionable advice for how to achieve it, a well-balanced pairing of theory and implementation. How to live with systematic curiosity and see life as an ongoing quest to try new things and learn from the results, the trial-and-error approach modeled by the scientific method. Her section titles, in order:

Pact: Commit to Curiosity

Act: Practice Mindful Productivity

React: Collaborate with Uncertainty

Impact: Grow with the World

She reframes the purpose of growth and the meaning of success as not striving to become the best in a competitive climb to the top but as a quest for generativity: a psychological principle that emphasizes using your personal growth to positively impact the world around you. That means learning to have a deeper sense of time, dance with disruption, and learn in public, among other things.

This book is both insightful and wise. Highly recommended.

It's almost impossible to fail when you see everything as an experiment. In a life of experimentation, there is no wrong choice, either. A pact isn't a destination. It's a path you walk to discover more about yourself and the world. Success and failure are fluid constructs, not fixed labels.

The only failure is to confuse mindless movement with mindful momentum. As long as you keep on adapting, learning, and growing, you are winning.

From above:

we can't disentangle

experience from loss

for living is a fatal activity

in which there is no always

but in the wild current of presence

encountering time

through change after change

what could be more human

than hoping to be enough

hoping to be intertwined

in the landscape of the other

forests dense with questions

phenomena of coexistence

breathing to be known

And more from the book:

Life is made of cycles of being lost and finding ourselves again.

-----

Each day I wake up excited to discover what new crossroads life will present to me. I'm always on the lookout for new experiments. I'm not rushing to get to a specific destination. I'm playing a different game: a game of noticing, questioning, and adapting.

-----

Enrich your life with systematic curiosity--a conscious commitment to inhabit the space between what you know and what you don't, not with fear and anxiety but with interest and openness. Systematic curiosity provides an unshakable certitude in your ability to grow even when the exact path forward is uncertain, with the knowledge that your actions can align with your most authentic ambitions.

-----

Our brain is uncomfortable in the in-betweens. Just like a sentry on high alert, the brain prepares for potential threats. Uncertainty becomes fuel for anxiety. In fact, uncertainty has been found to cause more stress than inevitable pain. When we don't know what's coming, we overthink every possibility and we conjure worst-case scenarios. Although we would like to relinquish control and soar through the skies, we often find ourselves suffering from uneasiness, or even white-knuckled terror.

-----

We need to shift the focus from what we do with our time to how we experience each moment--what you might call mindful productivity. It's a simple idea, that making the most of our time isn't about doing more but about being more: more present, more engaged, and more attuned to the quality of our experiences.

-----

Managing your physical resources ultimately boils down to discarding the unrealistic expectation of always being "at your best." Energy naturally fluctuates; attempting to maintain a perpetual peak is not just impossible but detrimental to your well-being. Respecting your natural rhythms can lead you to have a healthier relationship to work as well as increased productivity and creativity.

-----

If you ask yourself exploratory questions in a nonjudgmental way and interpret the answers constructively, procrastination can be a helpful indicator, shifting your internal monologue from self-blame to self-discovery.

-----

When we use trial and error, we set in motion a series of growth loops where progress emerges in conversation with our environment. Each cycle adds a layer of learning to how we understand ourselves and the world around us. Instead of an external destination, our aspirations become fuel for transformation. We don't go in circles, we grow in circles.

-----

"Failure" is inherent in the trial and error process: it is not feared but embraced as a tool that directs us toward the next step in our journey of discovery.

-----

Our economy is built not on the notion of enough but on the notion of more. Bigger, better, higher, faster. . . . 

When you're not playing a game of leveling up and chasing linear goals, persistence--showing up consistently over a long period of time, long enough that you can start seeing the compound interest in your work--can be a powerful differentiator.

-----

Taoism talks about wu wei, which can be translated as "effortless action." This doesn't mean inaction but rather acting in harmony with the flow of life, without force or resistance. . . . 

Western science is catching up to the Eastern spiritual teachings on the benefits of surrendering to the present moment and choosing to flow with the currents of life. Studies show that constantly trying to fight and fix the things that go wrong in life can lead to chronic stress, and that one of the hallmarks of psychological well-being is the ability to fluidly adapt to change--not to resist chaos, but to embrace it.

-----

Always err on the side of acceptance rather than control. Ride the wave of chaos instead of vainly trying to contain it. The point is not to create a master plan that gives you the illusion of power over the situation; rather, it is to deescalate the consequences of any setback so you can move forward rather than give up.

-----

Researchers have found that flow states happen more easily in group activities than in solitary ones. . . . 

The interdependent nature improves the focus of each individual. And even though solitary flow is quite enjoyable, studies have found that the intrinsic reward of shared focus alongside others makes sinking into that optimal state even more pleasurable.

-----

Learning in public requires connecting with other humans to explore, learn, and grow together. It's a form of iterative learning, where mistakes and errors are valuable opportunities for improvement. As such, it is messy. . . . 

This is an extreme form of vulnerability, which has been found to foster a deeper sense of connection, trust, and empathy. . . . 

Growth often comes from struggle, frustration confusion--but we usually keep those moments private for fear of being exposed as a "fraud." We worry that others will judge us. . . . Instead, share your real work in real time--the raw stuff, not the highlights reel. . . . 

Share the lessons from an experiment that failed.

To do all this, you'll need to become comfortable saying I don't know and asking others for input. Ultimately, learning in public strengthens your thinking by exposing your ideas to diverse perspectives early on. This can save you precious time and money. It also builds public trust and engagement. . . . 

Above all, welcome new inputs instead of just promoting your own point of view. . . . 

Learn the art of give-and-take--listening as much as sharing, valuing diverse voices, and recognizing each contribution, however small. When you learn in public, you create an open playbook welcoming new players to advance the game beyond what you first imagined, sparking new connections, sharing both the credit and the challenges.

-----

To be successful at any age, on any path, and on your own terms, focus not on legacy but on generativity. Generativity is a psychological principle that emphasizes using your personal growth to positively impact the world around you. . . . 

Instead of focusing on what you leave behind, generativity is about what you give now--actively contributing to your community, creating opportunities for others, and sharing your experiences in ways that enable collective growth.

Generativity isn't measured by scale but by the depth of connection in the here and now. It is built around the conversations you have, the positive impact of the work you produce, the lives you touch. Unlike legacy, which often fixates on leaving an outsized enduring mark, generativity is found in smaller everyday interactions and contributions.

-----

Focus on the present moment and ask yourself: How can I use my skills and experiences to positively impact the people around me right now?

we plant potential realities

hoping to be intertwined in the phenomena of coexistence

success and failure are fluid constructs

value is situational and relational

play a game of noticing, questioning, and adapting

inhabit the space between what you know and what you don't

embrace a life of perpetual transition, a generative series of experiments

discard the unrealistic expectation of always being at your best

life is made of cycles of being lost and finding ourselves again

respect your natural rhythms

we grow in circles

act in harmony with the flow of life

I particularly resonated with Le Cunff's concept of "growth loops," that learning happens in cycles and each rotation around, revisiting familiar territory, leads to a deepening of knowledge--what we already know grows over time as we use and revisit it. It gains more dimension and meaning, becomes more connected and integrated.

When we use trial and error, we set in motion a series of growth loops where progress emerges in conversation with our environment. Each cycle adds a layer of learning to how we understand ourselves and the world around us. Instead of an external destination, our aspirations become fuel for transformation. We don't go in circles, we grow in circles.

I have been using the metaphor of spirals and helixes for the same idea.

It Makes You Sick: The Attacks on Health, Healthcare, and Care

I've come to realize that a lot of the important things are not just facts to know the way you learned the multiplication table in fifth grade. They're fundamental truths that somehow need to sink into you to become part of your operating equipment, your values and premises, and they're often pretty simple and familiar. That's why they're often about seeing old things in a new way or having a well-known aphorism settle into in your bones or become your compass. . . . 

I suddenly felt in a new way how the land and the people aren't separate, and how too many people on too many parts of that land are being sickened by breathing in industrial pollution . . . That in damaging the land and contaminating the air we were harming the people. Of course I'd known that forever – since the dense smog of Los Angeles, since partly dispelled by good legislation and industrial decline – was a presence in my youth. But it hit me with a vividness that was new. . . . 

I've occasionally argued that the real divide in this country and beyond is better described as connectors and disconnectors, the relational and the isolated, than left and right. As Martin Luther King Jr. famously (and repeatedly; he knew a good phrase when he had one) said, “We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.” . . . 

The health of any individual is inseparable from the health of the society in which they live.

From Rebecca Solnit's Meditations in an Emergency blog.

And from the entry for "Echo" in the book Consolations II: The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words by David Whyte.

Repetition through echo also reflects our need to admit things we could not admit to, the very first time we heard them. In Greek drama, when the gods spoke on stage, it was always understood that, heard directly from the god's mouth, the message was too overwhelming for those listening in the audience to take in. The words of the gods could only be comprehended and digested after they had been heard again, after what had been said had been echoed and repeated by the chorus. In the reverberating echo of the truth, the chorus mercifully steps the truth down to our level so that we may understand it and then through repetition, amplifies it to transform our lives. . . . 

The more loops we complete, the more we grow. We grow in circles.

In the end, philosophy is the art of linking timeless questions together to frame them in compelling ways. The answer is not as important, in the same way that finding “the answer” to death is nonsensical. What you want to do in a philosophical essay is to show how one view leads to perspective shifts in another, which then allows for profundity to seep in. And by doing this regularly, you’ll develop the intuition required to avoid trite points at all costs.

― Lawrence Yeo of More To That

At the end of Tiny Experiments, Le Cunff includes a link to a "bonus chapter" that she left out of the book as not a perfect fit. Here are some selections from it:

The Art of Mind Gardening

Just as a gardener sows seeds, waters them, and harvests the fruit of their labor, we too can plant inspiring ideas in our minds, nurture them, and watch them blossom into new thoughts. Much like gardens, our minds require consistent attention and, most importantly, intention. This realization was the birth of “mind gardening”—a proactive approach to cultivating our mental landscape. . . . 

Mind gardening is a fluid, bottom-up practice of note-taking which starts with capturing fleeting thoughts, observations, and insights. Whether jotted down physically or digitally, these notes act as the soil in which ideas germinate. Instead of letting them rot as if in a dumping ground, you will regularly revisit those notes and proactively seek connections between ideas to generate new ones. Over time, as these notes accumulate and intertwine, they form a dense garden of thoughts, allowing for deeper insights and creating an unlimited source of inspiration.

Mind gardeners are known by many names: scholars, Renaissance people, expert-generalists, scientific detectives, philomaths (literally, “lovers of learning”). . . . 

Information is constantly being pushed at us. We need a practice that builds intentionality into our learning process, so that we’re actively making choices about what we plant, grow, and harvest. . . . 

1. Curate: Planting seeds of inspiration . . . 

Think of it as choosing the best ingredients for a nutritious and delicious information diet. The secret lies in recognizing which seeds resonate with your interests or complement your existing knowledge. Some ideas, no matter how intriguing, are like exotic plants—fun novelties but not likely to root and flower. By being selective of the content you consume, you ensure that what you plant in your mind garden has the potential to grow, intertwine with other ideas, and ultimately blossom into new, exciting thoughts. . . . 

2. Connect: Cultivating a network of insights . . . 

This may be as simple as spending time every few days or weeks reading through all the notes you have aggregated—seeing which ones still resonate, looking for patterns, and seeing how individual notes relate or contrast with each other. What is important is that you spend time actively engaging with what you collected. You can do this by opening your notes, and asking yourself questions such as: What does this idea remind me of? How does idea A impact idea B? What do ideas A and B have in common? How are ideas A and B different? . . . 

3. Create: Harvesting new ideas . . . 

These can take many forms—a new perspective, a solution to a problem, or a system to design your projects. Putting these insights to use can be as simple as incorporating an idea into a piece of work, crafting a quick memo for your team, creating a template for yourself, or testing a concept in a conversation with a friend. Maybe you compile a list of your favorite quotes from the past month or you write a book recommendation. The aim is to become an active contributor of valuable insights; a transmitter rather than just a receiver. . . . 

Our brain is not designed to create ideas out of thin air. Instead, it’s a pattern-seeking machine. Brain scans show that parts of the brain tied to reward are activated when discovering relationships between disparate information. In short, the brain is wired to make fresh associations, the core mechanism of combinational creativity. Mind gardening is merely a tool for these innate capacities to flourish. . . . 

Mind gardening fosters perpetual discovery, turning lifelong learning into a weird and wonderful adventure, where you can envision new solutions, new learning opportunities, and even new careers. Much like gardening itself, a mind garden takes dedication to bear fruit. But the effort compounds as your notes bloom into generative thoughts. With consistent tending, your curiosity will develop into ideas that benefit both yourself and others.

Mind gardening can help you transform chaos into insight. When you shift from passive consumer to active cultivator, scattered tidbits of information turn into a web of interrelated ideas, ripe for sharing with others. When you landscape your thoughts through curiosity, the noise of the modern world becomes a springboard to creativity. Just grab your tools, pick your plot, and let your imagination grow wild in the garden of your mind.

In the context of How High We Go in the Dark, "we plant potential realities" is said by an actual world creator from a race of immortal space beings who literally grow planets and the life on them. But I like the phrase as a much more everyday thought: because we are in relationship with others and the world around us--not to mention ourselves--our every action and choice impacts who who are later, other people, and our environments. Most impacts are so common and miniscule we don't notice them, but they add to the flow of the future; we have a hand in shaping the state of things. What we "plant" now will grow into something later. We are constantly choosing how we want to nudge the direction of future potential realities.

In last post, I shared some thoughts about leadership that I composed to share with others at my workplace, including:

A central concept to our leadership philosophy is trust, the importance of trust between people at all levels of the organization. And trusting others requires believing they are trustworthy. To find people trustworthy, we need to begin with a view that human nature is more cooperative, compassionate, and generous than it is selfish, competitive, and destructive; and that people are motivated by a desire to succeed and contribute, to feel good about themselves by doing good work. People almost always respond to the expectations others communicate to them. In order to draw that goodness out of people and not encourage the less social traits, we need to be clear about our own positive expectations of them--then find structures and systems that communicate those expectations and a sense of trust.

Right after I shared it, Reweaving the Web posted a poem that in my mind connects perfectly.

From The Golden Lining.

"We abandon each other through scattered instances documented to monitor threats, shaping previous failures into active hazards."

To me that speaks powerfully to trust and expectations, to the nature of self-fulfilling prophecies and the tendency for people to react to how they are treated. A self-fulfilling prophecy is a prediction that causes itself to become true; the process by which a person’s expectations lead them to unconsciously behave in ways that confirm the expectations and make them a reality. Because their mindset shapes their actions, they inadvertently cause the outcome they predicted.

We plant potential realities.

Selah.

According to the AI embedded in Google search, Selah is a Hebrew word most commonly found in the Psalms of the Bible. While its exact etymology remains a mystery, scholars generally interpret it as an instruction to pause, reflect, or praise. It appears 74 times in the Hebrew Bible, typically marking a musical interlude or a moment to stop and consider the words just spoken.

"A musical interlude or a moment to stop and consider the words just spoken."

A lovely thought.

I bring it up because a work of art with that title recently came across my feed. An artist I'd never heard of before, Matt Moberg, posting a painting he was putting up for auction. You can see more at Matt Moberg's Post for "Selah," a 36x36 Acrylic and Oil on Canvas for sale at Matt Moberg Art.

Moberg introduced the painting with a long free-verse poem that I really appreciate. I'm not going to entirely steal his words, but I'm reproducing an abridgement that pulls out the bits I find most essential.

I don't understand these folk, 

the ones who carry God 

the way men carry canes they do not need —

less for support than for pointing. . . . 

And always so sure. . . . 

It's in me too,

and I am tired of the little judge

I become

when I'm afraid. . . . 

We are such little catastrophes of longing.

We cry in grocery store parking lots

with melting ice cream in the back seat,

because someone we love

spoke in a tone

that found the basement of the body.

We reread text messages

like monks bending over ancient manuscripts,

searching for proof

that we have not been quietly removed

from the country of Good.

We forget the thing that mattered.

We lose the thing in our hand.

We ruin what we were begging for.

We hand fear the microphone

then blame love for the speech. . . . 

We are one bad night away from texting,

Are you mad at me?

to someone who is only asleep.

Think of that.

Think of how close we are,

always,

to mistaking rest

for abandonment. . . . 

And still we speak

as though angels briefed us

in a side room.

Still we pontificate like God pulled us aside privately

to clarify the meaning of the universe over appetizers.

As if eternity were a parlor trick.

As if grace were a chandelier

we could describe

because once, briefly,

we stood beneath it.

As if heaven had a side entrance

and we alone knew the code.

How did we become so certain? . . . 

Who taught us

to confuse volume with truth,

sharpness with holiness,

a closed fist for the keeping of fire?

Who told you you had to be right in order to be good? . . . 

And yet we insist that we have the Truth on matters like

heaven, bodies, sin, mercy,

justice, gender, eternity,

whether Apple is a buy or the Fed will blink,

and the curriculum

someone else’s heartbreak

was apparently assigned to teach them.

Selah.

Maybe the holiest thing is not loud certainty.

Maybe the holiest thing is the quiet softening.

The breath before the answer.

The hand unclenching.

The sentence that begins,

Tell me more.

Maybe God is not waiting

for us to win the debate.

Maybe God is waiting

for us to notice

the sparrow on the fence,

the soup on the stove,

the friend still answering,

the body still breathing,

the morning returning

with no guarantee

except its own golden arrival.

Maybe God is less interested in being defended

than in being encountered.

Less interested in our raised voices

than in our lowered guard.

Less interested in the flag we plant

than the shoes we remove.

So come.

Leave the argument still chewing on itself in the kitchen.

Leave the last word face down on the table.

Let someone else win the echo.

You do not have to answer

every bell your fear rings.

Come outside in this unsolved world.

There is still jasmine climbing the fence.

Still rain making music on the trash cans.

Still the neighbor’s dog

believing every morning

is Easter.

Come and see how

the sky is doing that impossible thing again

where it holds everything

and asks for nothing.

There is still a world

that has not learned

our hatred of being unfinished.

Come be unfinished here.

Come be unsure.

Come be the kind of small that finally fits inside mercy.

Come be human.

Come be quiet enough to hear the life beneath the life.

Come stand here

without an answer,

and let awe

do the work

that argument never could.

Let it soften

what certainty hardened.

Let it loosen

what fear clenched.

Let it make of you

not someone who knows more,

but someone who kneels better

inside the life we are already in.

(Please go to his site and read the entire piece.)

"Always err on the side of acceptance rather than control." Anne-Laure Le Cunff in Tiny Experiments.

I particularly love We are such little catastrophes of longing. Such a simple yet insightful thought that explains much about human nature and behavior. Life is situational and relational.

we plant potential realities

hoping to be intertwined in the phenomena of coexistence

success and failure are fluid constructs

value is situational and relational

play a game of noticing, questioning, and adapting

inhabit the space between what you know and what you don't

embrace a life of perpetual transition, a generative series of experiments

discard the unrealistic expectation of always being at your best

life is made of cycles of being lost and finding ourselves again

respect your natural rhythms

we grow in circles

act in harmony with the flow of life