Philosophy

22 takeaways so far this year

Last week, my wife Courtney and I flew to Austin, TX. We then drove 30 miles southeast to the small town of Bastrop to visit The Painted Porch bookstore, where we met my favorite author and mentor, Ryan Holiday. (More on that next month!)

Back in Austin, we visited the LBJ Library, the Neill-Cochran House Museum, and the State Capital. We took walks around Lady Bird Lake. Everywhere we went, I found a sticker or pamphlet or business card to tape into my journal (which has started to double as a scrapbook.) As I added entries, I looked at earlier ones from this year—the ideas and insights and things learned and magazine clippings and doodles. I found some good stuff to share, things that have changed me and made me better. Things that I think you can use too.

1. Henry David Thoreau said if you think too many trivial thoughts, your brain becomes a mess of trivialities. I couldn’t stop thinking about that. A mess of trivialities

This led me to think about the people I most admire, and what their thoughts probably look like. They probably don’t think much about personal irritations, or superstitions, or desires, or things that don’t matter. (If they did, they wouldn’t be able to accomplish what they do.) Their thoughts are likely big-picture and worldly. So I made an image in my journal as a reminder to keep my attention on better and higher things.

Whenever I have a trivial or obsessive thought—I wonder what he meant by that. Should I redo my hair?—I remember this image of the girl smiling as she focuses on bigger things, and I immediately forget whatever unimportant thing I was thinking about.

The point isn’t necessarily to elevate my thoughts, but to take my mind off the insignificant ones. Which, with time, might become the same thing.

2. In Lynda Barry’s What It Is (one of my favorite books about writing!) there’s a short comic strip of a writer deep in thought, trying to figure out what she should write a book about. Ten years later, someone asks what her book will be about. “Shh! I’m still thinking,” she replies.

We can’t think our way to good ideas. We have to roll up our sleeves. We have to do the work in front of us.

3. When you look back on your life, what you accomplished will mean far less to you than what you contributed

4. Make time each day for your own work, and wear yourself out doing it.

Marcus Aurelius asks, “Why aren’t you running to do what your nature demands?” Why aren’t you running to do your work? Not to a 9 to 5, but to the work you’re naturally inclined to do?

Seneca said that only fools begin to live life just as it’s coming to an end. You can’t wait until you’re retired. You can’t wait until you feel like you’ve saved enough money or have fewer obligations. That’s never going to happen.

And isn’t that great news? We don’t have to wait to start living because there’s nothing to wait for!

We will never have the time, so we have to make it. I don’t have the luxury to read and write all day—I’m not sure anyone does—so I wake up a few hours early and do it in the morning. Then I do more during lunch. I look for opportunities throughout the day, too. When coworkers take a smoke break, I take a note break.

Because we can’t wait 10 years. We can’t wait 10 days. Our work must be done now, wherever we are. Because if we wait, we may never get the chance to do it at all. Besides, if you have excuses today, you’ll have excuses tomorrow, too.

5. Don’t think about how long it’s going to take. Just focus on doing a little work on it each day.

6. The best way to serve the world is to serve your work. And the best work is the work that connects the divine with the human.

7. In An Emotional Education, Alain de Botton says we’re unhappy because we think perfection is possible. But it’s not. The human condition is struggle and pain and weakness. There’s no cure, only consolation. He puts this idea beautifully:

“What we can aim for, at best, is consolation—a word tellingly lacking in glamor. To believe in consolation means giving up on cures; it means accepting that life is a hospice rather than a hospital, but one we’d like to render as comfortable, as interesting, and as kind as possible.”

8. A common reason for failed relationships is that one person, consciously or not, wants their partner to have only strengths. But, of course, no one has only strengths. Said differently, weakness-free people don’t exist. We’re all flawed. In fact, Alain de Botton pointed out, our “weaknesses” exist because of our strengths. The creative energy that makes her artistic may also lend to her messiness. The guy who can be frustratingly stubborn is also honest and loyal.

9. Despite what Shark Tank would have you believe, you don’t have to have millions of dollars worth of sales or be super well-known. You can sustain yourself and your work with 1,000 true fans.

10. Nature doesn’t ask questions. It just does what it does.

11. In Novelist as a Vocation(another one of my favorite books about writing!) Haruki Murakami said the best way to express yourself as freely as possible is not to ask, “What am I seeking?” (which causes you to ponder heavy things and slows you up), but to instead ask, “Who would I be if I weren’t seeking anything?”

12. Start the clock. Ryan Holiday recently wrote about having a sense of urgency. About the importance of starting the clock on a project, getting the ball rolling as soon as possible. And about spotting bottlenecks quickly and fixing them quickly.

13. I found this gem in a poem of Ray Bradbury’s: “There’s no rest, there is only journeying to be yourself.”

14. We can’t always be calm. But we can make an effort to be more calm than we were last year.

15. The difference between genre and style. Genre is a category. Style is the life and humanity you give the art. As Jerry Saltz put it, “Dolly Parton’s ‘Jolene’ is a classic country song; the vulnerability of her performance is what makes you die inside when you hear it.”

16. The better story wins.

17. When the problem is abstract, ask how. When the problem is concrete, ask why.

18. Relax. You can’t read every book.

19. Don’t be satisfied with doing work that gets you by. Find work to be invested in.

20. Don’t live a boring life.

21. Burn with the ambition to be useful.

22. A great way to live: follow your interests and share them with the world.


Books Read This Month:

I added all 4 of the books I read this month to my favorites list. If you’re wondering why so many of the books I read I end up loving, it’s because I quit a lot of books I’m not loving. This section could also be called Books I Didn’t Quit This Month:

-I got so, so much from A Life in Parts by Bryan Cranston (and not just because he’s my favorite actor). His career is the epitome of serving the work. Of doing his job. Of changing things up. I’ve heard of golden handcuffs (staying at a job that pays well but makes you miserable), but never velvet handcuffs (staying at a job because it’s comfortable and you’re “learning a lot”.) In a way, velvet handcuffs are more insidious than golden ones. The velvet is comforting, easily missed. In his mid-twenties, Bryan Cranston’s dreams came true when he landed a recurring role on the soap opera Loving. He we finally a working actor. He no longer needed a day job. He was making enough to live on and enjoying the work. About a year and a half into his role on Loving, his contract renewal was coming up. His manager Leonard Grant called him and asked what he wanted to do. “I like having a job,” Cranston answered. “I’m enjoying myself. Learning a lot.” His manager replied, “It’s velvet handcuffs. You’ve got to get out of daytime, or else you’ll wake up and it’s twenty years later and it’s all you’ve ever done.” Cranston realized Grant was right and immediately put in his two weeks.

Tunnel 29 by Helena Merriman. Wow…this is easily one of the best books I’ve read. It’s the incredible true story of how 29 people escaped through an underground tunnel beneath the Berlin Wall. There are tons of holy shit moments. I learned a ton of history and was never bored—two things I rarely put in the same sentence. Seriously, this book was so much fun to read.

Leisure: The Basis of Culture by Josef Pieper. I LOVED this book. He talks about the importance of leisure, and how nothing of genius is accomplished without it. He says leisure is a form of silence where “the soul’s power to ‘answer’ to the reality of the world is left undisturbed. For leisure is a receptive attitude of mind, a contemplative attitude, and . . . the capacity for steeping oneself in the whole of creation.” Leisure isn’t about turning our brains off; leisure is about being fully alert and receptive! True leisure is impossible if we’re overworked. Further, overwork creates the dangerous illusion that we’re living a fulfilled life.

Furious Hours by Casey Cep is another incredible true story. The first half of the book is about a reverend who murdered family members for insurance money…only to be shot dead at one of his victim’s funerals by a grieving relative. The second half is about one of the most famous authors of the time, Harper Lee (To Kill a Mockingbird), and her attempt to tell the story of the reverend. (She hoped it would be another In Cold Blood, the true-crime classic she helped Truman Capote write.) She spent about 10 years—the first few researching, the remaining trying to figure out how to tell the story—before abandoning the project entirely. There’s much speculation about why she never wrote another book after her wildly successful Mockingbird (not counting Go Set a Watchman, which was really just the first draft of Mockingbird). Maybe she thought she would never top her first book. Maybe perfectionism got the best of her. Whatever the case, she might have saved herself years had she decided how to tell the story—or move on to something else entirely—before researching. Perhaps she would have benefitted from Steven Pressfield’s advice in The Daily Pressfield, given to him by Randall Wallace, the writer of Braveheart: “The most important thing is the story. Get that first. What’s the drama about? Who’s the hero? Who’s the villain? How does it end? Once you get those, you can go back and fill in the research.”

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You flee along with yourself

In 2006, Jackass star Steve-O was at the height of his career. At the red-carpet movie premiere for the second Jackass movie, he felt on top of the world. Or so one would have thought. But, as he recently shared, he felt like he was at his own funeral. He worried he and his team would never again produce something as good, that it would be downhill from there. On top of that, he was terrified his fame would disappear any moment. These worries spiraled into addictions, arrests, an intervention, and a 72-hour involuntary psychiatric hold after he emailed friends saying that he was, “ready to die.” Destructive behavior would consume him for the next 8 years.

It’s shocking, isn’t it? Here’s a guy who got everything he wanted, only to feel like he was at his own funeral

But it’s also not shocking. It’s natural to think that money or fame or status will fix us. But, of course, it never does. External things can’t penetrate the mind; a mind prone to worry will worry regardless of circumstances.

Quoting Socrates, Seneca wrote, “All your bustle is useless . . . You must lay aside the burdens of the mind; until you do this, no place will satisfy you. . . .because you flee along with yourself.” If you want to escape anxiety, he continued, “what you’re needing is not to be in a different place but to be a different person . . . . You need a change of soul rather than a change of climate.”

This isn’t just Western philosophy. The Buddha also recognized our inclination to search for happiness outside of ourselves. As Karen Armstrong writes, the Buddha believed humans were unhappy because they were “ceaselessly yearning to become something else, go somewhere else, and acquire something they do not have. . . .”

The problem is that if we don’t maintain our perspective, the goalposts move. No matter where we go or how much we acquire, it eventually becomes normal. We end up in an endless cycle of needing more.

Soon after Henry Ford created his assembly line in 1913, a huge problem arose: employees kept quitting. They would simply walk out midshift. The work provided no cognitive stimulation or personal satisfaction or agency. In other words, it sucked. The attrition rate was so bad that when Ford needed to hire 100 employees, he had to hire 963. It was costing a fortune. He needed a way to cut costs and increase production. His solution: he would increase wages.

The results were incredible. Employee attrition plummeted; the pay was too good to leave. Ford called the wage increase, “one of the finest cost-cutting moves we ever made.” Then he sped up the conveyor belt. Production tripled. Employees were working harder and faster, anxious to keep their well-paying jobs and maintain their new lifestyles—lifestyles that had grown with their income, “keeping them,” as Jackson Lears said, “at routinized jobs in factories and offices, graying but in harness, meeting payments regularly.”

That image—graying in harness—reminds me of a short comic strip I saw years ago: a young guy sprinting after a flurry of money, eventually collecting a sizable amount, only to look up and see he’s now an old man.

It’s not that we lose sight of what’s important on purpose. It’s just that it’s so natural and easy to think we’re lacking something when we’re not. That’s why one of my favorite parts in Epicurus’s The Art of Happinessis when he talks about how little our nature requires. Nature doesn’t care if your house “does not gleam with silver and flash with gold and if there are no paneled and gilded ceilings re-echoing to the lute,” he said. Nature has everything it needs, content to “recline on the soft grass beneath the branches of a tall tree near a stream of water and joyously care for their bodily wants at no great expense.”

This, Epicurus says, proves that power and riches “in no way profit the body of a man.” He adds that they don’t profit the mind, either. It’s our imagination that makes us feel something is lacking when it isn’t. (Our imagination is what marketers—dubbed “consumption engineers” in the early twentieth century—play on.)

The Roman poet, Horace, who wrote much about contentment, said that the good life is found in having what is sufficient, and a steady mind. Reason and good sense banish anxiety, not vacations and luxury.

Besides, he continues:

“If neither Phrygian marble or the wearing of purple that surpasses the brightness of stars, cannot relieve the sick man … Why should I labor to build a hall with doorposts to attract envy? … Why should I exchange my [modest home] for riches that bring bigger burdens?”

His psychological message, Stephen Harrison writes, “is that great riches bring anxiety rather than escape from it.”

This is true for us just as it was true for Steve-O. It wasn’t until he went to work on himself that he turned his life around. It wasn’t until he stopped counting his bedpost notches, and started counting his days of celibacy, that he found happiness.

Rich is the person who adds bricks not to what can be blown down or taken away, but to their inner citadel—that reliable place of resilience, calm, virtue, and wisdom inside us all. The place we can flee to whenever we’d like, and come back better for it. The place that fortifies us as we fortify it.

Bolster that place and rest easy knowing that wherever you go, whatever you do, it will be right there with you.


Books read this month:

The Wright Brothers by David McCullough was so good I added it to my list of favorite books. I loved how stoic the brothers were, how they went about their work diligently and without frenzy. How Wilbur whistled while he worked, refusing to rush preparations on his plane even as a large crowd and impatient reporters waited for him to fly. What I found especially beautiful was how loving and supportive their family was. Just a great book and McCullough’s smooth writing made the pages (I really didn’t mean to add a pun here) fly by.

His Majesty’s Airship by S. C. Gwynne is another book I’d been wanting to read, and I thought it would be a good follow-up to The Wright Brothers. Imagine: a giant airship, about 6 acres in surface area, with a cloth-like exterior, full of people and helium, nearly impossible to steer, reactive to the tiniest shifts in weather, ready to explode at the slightest bump, moving slowly and at low altitude over the city. Why anyone thought these balloons would be the future of travel is beyond most historians, though the answers lie somewhere in ego, ignorance, good intentions, and a tragically flawed sense of competition.

-I loved David McCullough’s The Wright Brothers so much that I read another of his, John Adams, which I also quickly added to my list of favorite books. Wow, I didn’t know what a great guy Adams was, how strongly he opposed slavery and supported women’s rights. And unlike his peers, he actually practiced what he preached. He had an unflinching sense of duty, acted urgently, and was committed to his family. And through all of his professional and personal hardships, he did his best to move forward in good spirits.

-After reading and loving The Daily Thoreau last month, I decided to read Henry David Thoreau’s Where I Lived, and What I Lived For, and I LOVED it. It’s one of the best books I’ve read. Thoreau spent years living in a self-sufficient home in the New England woods and wrote about his experience. His goal was to live simply, and he encouraged his readers to do the same. One of my favorite stories is how he decorated his desk with 3 pieces of limestone, only to be horrified when he realized they required daily dusting. Throwing them out of his window in disgust, he wondered why he would dust his furniture “when the furniture of my mind was all undusted still. . . . I would rather sit in the open air, for no dust gathers on the grass, unless where man has broken ground.”

Commit once and for all

About a month ago, a new policy was announced at work.

It wasn’t anything crazy, but I was annoyed, and I complained to Courtney and my parents. The more I thought about it, the more miserable I made myself.

A few weeks later, I was notating Epictetus’s Enchiridion.

“You want to win at the Olympics? So do I—who doesn’t?” Epictetus said to a student. But before you jump in, reflect on what that entails: you’ll need to adopt a strict diet, a brutal exercise regimen, and submit completely to a trainer. Your ankles will likely swell. You’ll sustain injuries and swallow mouthfuls of sand. Oh and after all that you still might lose.

If, after considering everything you’ll have to do, you still want to be an Olympian…then do it wholeheartedly, he said. Don’t pause to think about it or you will end up jumping from one infatuation to the next. You’ll be like a child; one day they want to be a gladiator, the next day a musician, the next an actor, and so on. Give your pursuit sincere attention and commit with all your heart.

He then applies this lesson to life.

You claim to want serenity and freedom and peace, but are you willing to pay the price? Are you willing to change the way you eat and drink? Are you willing to put up with nights of pain? To be criticized? To forfeit status and power? Willing to moderate your desires and aversions? To be okay with getting the small end of the stick in even the tiniest matters? In a word, are you willing to live as a philosopher?

If you’re unwilling, don’t go near it, he says. Walk away. You can’t be a philosopher one day and someone else the next. You can only be one person. Make your decision, and commit once and for all.

This struck me with a force that’s hard to describe.

You say you want freedom, yet here you are, troubled.

Commit once and for all.

Every day the next week, I wrote, “Commit once and for all” on the back of my hand. I took a thick, black Expo marker and scrawled the phrase on the bathroom mirror. I needed reminders. I had been using philosophy in some parts of my life, but clearly not in others. 

One of my favorite passages from Epictetus is where he says if people truly grasped how short life is, they would never entertain miserable thoughts. He didn’t say they would never entertain a miserable thought unless something seemed unfair, or unless a situation felt overwhelming, or unless someone pissed them off. They just wouldn’t entertain those thoughts, period.

It’s important to note that he wasn’t talking about negative thinking, which we know can be used, paradoxically, to increase positivity. He was talking about thoughts that do nothing but make you feel miserable.

Epictetus spent the first 30 years of his life as a slave. One day, his master, feeling especially cruel, grabbed Epictetus’s leg and began to twist it. “If you keep doing that,” Epictetus told him, “you’re going to snap it.” The master kept twisting. Epictetus’s leg snapped. “See,” Epictetus said calmly. “I told you that would happen.” 

It’s not that Epictetus didn’t feel pain. Of course he did. But his philosophy said things outside of his control could not harm him. That his leg is broken? That is objectively true. That he’s harmed by it? That was up to him. And his commitment to his philosophy was greater than his broken leg. 

Seneca had a respiratory illness that sometimes made it hard to breathe. When it flared, he would spend days in bed, in a state of near suffocation. Writing about these experiences to his friend Lucilius, Seneca said that even though his body was in anguish, his mind was at ease. “Even while suffocating,” he reflected, “I did not stop resting serenely in brave and cheerful thoughts.” The Epicurean philosopher, Epicurus, was in excruciating pain on what he knew would be (and was) his last day on earth. Still, he wrote that he felt a “gladness of mind” by recalling pleasant memories of conversations with friends.

Like Epictetus, Seneca and Epicurus were not immune to pain. In fact, their empathetic natures probably amplified their pain at times. But here they were, nearly suffocating and dying, still committed to their philosophy, still not letting outside things harm them, still feeling “gladness of mind”. Not in a “toxic positivity” way—they weren’t smiling and saying, ‘Aw gee, shucks, isn’t this great?’—but in the contented way that comes from soberly processing negative emotions and calmly accepting what they could not control.

These were people who were committed. This is who they were; the situation wouldn’t change them.

Commit once and for all. This was my wake-up call and a reminder that I can’t pick and choose where I use philosophy. Like an Olympic athlete, I must be totally committed. 

So a policy changed at work? And? Why are you thinking about it now anyway?  It doesn’t take effect until next year. Besides, think of how lucky you are to have this job and the wonderful people you’ve met because of it.

You’ll find a way to use this to your advantage. You’ll see it’s for the best.

P.S. It turns out the new policy won’t change things that much. This brings to mind another stoic principle I had disregarded: don’t suffer before it’s necessary or you’ll suffer more than is necessary. But more on that another time.

P.P.S. Courtney woke up to my mirror reminder. She sent me this pic while I was at work, saying it had scared the shit out of her.

Books Read

-I loved The Devil in the White City by Erik Larson. It’s a story about the Chicago World’s Fair, the architects who built it, and the serial killer who used it to lure his victims. What makes it even creepier is that it’s true.

How To Do the Right Thing by Seneca was great. It’s part of the Ancient Wisdom for Modern Readers series, a collection of books that take individual philosophers’ works and piece together writings on a narrow topic. Other books of theirs I’ve enjoyed: How to Be Free, How to Keep Your Cool, How to Be a Leader,How to Be a Bad Emperor, How to Give, How to Be Content.

-I loved Morgan Housel’s The Psychology of Money, so I preordered and read his newest book Same as Ever, a collection of stories about what doesn’t change. I found some great reminders: the better story wins, risk is what you don’t see, the magic of compounding. Other topics that made me think: the importance of imperfection, the short lifespan of competitive advantage, and the simplicity of most things (and how and why we complicate them).

-I was hesitant to read Elon Musk by Walter Isaacson because I wasn’t sure how transparent it would be. But then I saw that Isaacson referred to Musk as a man-child, and I dove right in. Wow…this is one of the best books I’ve read this year. It’s an up-close view of how one of the most wildly successful entrepreneurs operates and makes decisions. It made me see Musk in a new light. I had a hard time putting it down. A very hard time. The short chapters and loads of pictures made it a fast read too. I didn’t want it to end.

12 more things I learned or found useful in 2023

1. We don’t need more time, we need more focus. We all have the same, fixed amount of time in a day. But with a little mindfulness, we can expand our time. Think about all the things you can do in 15 minutes. You can read a few pages of a book. You can call your mom. You can help your spouse prepare dinner. Now think about all the ways 15 minutes can slip by without notice. Scrolling through newsfeeds, small talk, zoning out in front of the TV. Seneca put it best when he said that time doesn’t slow down to let us know it’s passing by. It’s our responsibility to mind it. We can’t create more time, but we can put the time we do have to good use.

2. The best way to show someone respect is by doing your best.

3. Donald Miller said, “A good movie has memorable scenes and so does a good life.” I’ve been thinking about this lately, especially when I’m out with family and friends. What’s a little extra something we could do to make this more memorable?

4. Don’t let your days become one chore after another. Life requires balance. And space.

5. Setting time limits can relieve stress. For almost a decade, I’ve had the same system for notating the books I read. After I finish a book, I put it in a “to-notate” pile. Later, with notecards and pen in hand, I systematically go back through them and jot down the parts I marked. Recently, I was overwhelmed by the ever-growing stack of books in the “to-notate” pile. This was supposed to be fun, not stressful! So, I decided to impose a time limit. I don’t allow myself to take notes for more than 2 hours a week (or roughly 10-20 minutes per day). Putting this limit on myself made the process fun again and allowed me to enjoy my free time more. Plus, the time limit forces me to write down only the best stuff from each book. Then, on to the next.

6. Getting up early is the key ingredient to living a better life. Ernest Dimnet said, “An hour in the morning is worth two.” I’ve thought about that for years now, and it’s true.

7. I’m always thinking about how short life is. Or rather, I’m highly mindful of how I spend my time. Or, perhaps more precisely, you could say I’m obsessed with weeding out the inessential from my life. (Sometimes to a fault). Why would I accept a promotion if it meant less time with my wife? Why would I allow my schedule to be too packed to see my parents every week and help them when they need it? Why would I spend an hour at the grocery store when I can spend an hour outside playing with my dog and have the groceries delivered?  Why would I go to a gym when I have the equipment at home? I can imagine someone reading this and thinking, gee whiz, just live your life. But to me, this is living my life! Hanging out with my wife, helping my parents, playing with my dog, creating space for spontaneity—that’s the stuff that makes life worth living (and makes me the luckiest person)! That’s how I want to live my life, surrounded by what’s most important. The 2 quotes I read this year that have really shaped my thinking on this:

     Epictetus: “If we keep in mind constantly how short our life is, we will realize there is no room for excess.”

     Seneca: “We don’t have enough time for what’s necessary, let alone what’s unnecessary.”

8. What if we replaced the word envy with admire? We can be quick to shut down thoughts of envy. But, Alain de Botton says, if we take a moment to explore this feeling, we may find what lies beneath is not envy, but admiration. And we usually don’t envy someone’s entire life. Usually, it’s just a part that we envy (admire). And once you’re clear about what you admire, you can work to incorporate it into your own life. Let’s say you envy a successful entrepreneur’s life. You dig a little deeper and realize you don’t actually envy her life—it’s too hectic. What you envy, or admire, is her flexible schedule. Knowing precisely what it is you admire—her autonomy—gives you a clearer vision of what you’d like in your own life. You can then take steps and, say, make a career change to have more flexible work hours. You can repeat this process on multiple people, taking bits and pieces you admire, and fitting them together to create your ideal life.

9. With anything you endeavor to do, the whole point is to have fun. Do the things that you find most interesting.

10. Richard Feynman on happiness: “My rule is when you are unhappy, think about it. But when you’re happy, don’t. Why spoil it? You’re probably happy for some ridiculous reason and you’d just spoil it to know it.”

11. A contented state of being is the most sustainable form of happiness. Epicurus placed pleasure into two categories: active and static. Using food as an example, active pleasure is the pleasure you get from eating. Static pleasure is the pleasure of no longer being hungry. Epicurus believed static pleasure to be superior. When it comes to eating, the ultimate goal is not more pleasure from more food (active), but the contentedness of not being hungry (static). Active pleasures create a desire for more, meaning there’s never enough. Static pleasure is at total peace in and of itself.

12. I’ve been thinking about a quote of Stephen Marche’s every time I want to end my workout early: “Without struggle there is the struggle of no struggle.”

Books Read

-I read Killers of the Flower Moon by David Grann and wow. Wow, wow, wow. In the 1920s, members of the Osage Nation in Oklahoma were mysteriously killed, one by one. It’s a shocking true story of greed and betrayal. I audibly gasped a few times while reading. Like the book Dead Wake (see below), it’s the perfect mix of history and suspenseful storytelling.  

What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami. I LOVED this book. It’s a memoir centered on running and how it facilitates his writing. Making a living as a novelist for more than 40 years takes an incredible amount of stamina. Most authors write a novel or 2, then move on to something else; life as a novelist is too hard to sustain. Murakami credits his career longevity to the physical limits he pushes himself to through running. I found the book inspiring and a kick in the ass to push myself harder during my runs.

-After reading The Splendid and the Vile last month, I became an Erik Larson fan. This month I bought and read Dead Wake: The Last Crossing of the Lusitania, and oh my gosh, it was so good. One of the things I love about Larson’s writing is the anecdotes he uses: a person’s frivolous yet telling quirks, the personal struggles of famous men and women, etc. Maybe the best of what he includes is the stuff he personally found most interesting. Like all good writing, his works center on the people, not just the events. On the why behind the what. This book also reads with such slow-building suspense that I had difficulty putting it down.

Be Useful: Seven Tools for Life by Arnold Schwarzenegger. I was skeptical about reading this book, but I’m glad I did. It centers around this idea: be useful. Whatever you’re doing, be useful. If you don’t know what to do next, be useful. Your definition of being useful may be different than someone else’s, but that doesn’t matter. Be useful. Another message I got: you don’t have to always default to paying your dues. Sometimes you have to make a giant leap. (When he was just starting in movies, Arnold didn’t go for little parts here and there, he went for the starring role. In politics, he didn’t run for mayor or city council; he went straight for governorship.) Another message I liked: “Break the mirror”. Know the face of your neighbor better than your own. Focus your attention outward, on helping others. Inward focus is important too, of course, but the underlying reason to become personally successful (a reason I also firmly believe), is not so you can buy a larger house or take more vacations, but so you can do the greatest amount of good for the greatest number of people. This is the best reason for wanting to succeed.

-I loved Haruki Murakami’s book on running and writing so much that I decided to read another book of his, this one on just the writing: Novelist as a Vocation. I loved it. LOVED it. He writes so candidly and honestly that reading him feels like you’re reading a letter from a friend. And it’s filled with wisdom about writing.

Why success is simpler to achieve than you think

A turning point in my life came when I realized that success is not measured by external accomplishments.

Success is measured by my choices.

What did it matter that I was a top performer at work if I was still smoking cigarettes? If I was always stressed out? What was the point of knowing the ins and outs of my industry if I still didn’t know myself? 

We spend so much time thinking about what other people are thinking or doing. We worry about how things are going to turn out. We think we have to do everything right away. Then we wonder why we can’t get anything important done! We wonder why we feel stuck.

Marcus Aurelius said sanity means tying your well-being to your own actions. And being satisfied with even the smallest progress. Circumstances and people can obstruct your path, sure, but nothing can impede your will or disposition. Nothing can stop you from adapting, from using obstacles as fuel. “As a fire overwhelms what would have quenched a lamp,” Marcus said. “What’s thrown on top of the conflagration is absorbed, consumed by it—and makes it burn still higher.”

It was this realization—the realization that no one could hinder me, that no obstacle could keep me from taking the next most appropriate step in my life—that gave me clarity. I went back to school in my late twenties. No one could stop me from taking one class, and then the next. I got my degree in half the time. I quit smoking.

When I started focusing on my own actions, and taking it one step at a time, that’s when things changed.

Internal Focus = Freedom
In 1981, the young physicist Leonard Mlodinow accepted a postdoctoral fellowship at Caltech University. On his first day, the physics department chairman pulled Mlodinow into his office. “We have judged you to be the best of the best,” the chairman said to him. Because of this, Mlodinow could work on whatever he’d like. He could teach. Or not teach. He could design sailboats. It didn’t matter. Whatever he chose to work on, the chairman said, was bound to be important. Mlodinow was much less confident. He felt tremendous pressure. What should he do? What was important to him? String theory was popular, should he devote himself to that? He liked to write, should he be a writer? Frustrated, he sought advice from the famous Nobel Prize-winning physicist Richard Feynman, who worked down the hall. As the academic year progressed, Feynman offered Mlodinow advice and challenged his thinking. Still, he was lost. People were depending on him to do great things! And he had no idea where to start. After about a year of working alongside Feynman, Mlodinow began to understand why he had been having so much trouble finding a direction: his focus was external. “I had gone through college and into academia in a hurry,” he said, “wanting to rush ahead with my work, to prove to the world that I had been alive, and that it had mattered.” He had been stuck, he said, because he thought worthy goals were meant to “accomplish and impress”, and that he needed to be considered as “an important person, and a leader.” But Feynman’s example showed him a different way. Feynman “didn’t seek the leadership role. He didn’t gravitate to the sexy [popular] theories. For him, satisfaction in discovery was there even if what you discover was already known by others. It was there even if all you are doing is re-deriving someone else’s result your own way. . . . It was self-satisfaction. Feynman’s focus was internal, and his internal focus gave him freedom.” Mlodinow realized that he didn’t need to live up to other people’s expectations. He may not achieve the conventional or material success that his parents had wanted for him, but (and here we can imagine him smiling as he wrote), “at least with an internal focus, my happiness would be under my own control.”

What You Get is Gradual Transition
Author and comedian Mark Schiff recalled a conversation he’d had with an old rabbi. The rabbi had spent most of his life studying the Talmud for hours and hours each day. “What bothers me most,” the rabbi said, “is that with all the studying I’ve done, I feel like I’ve only dipped the tip of my pinky into the well.” And that’s what it feels like sometimes, doesn’t it? We put in years of hard work and it feels like we’re standing in place. But of course, this is an illusion. We are making progress—it’s just hard to see against the backdrop of our infinite potential. Schiff points out that no one reaches his or her full potential. Why? Because our potential is so vast! The rabbi concluded, “I’ll just have to be satisfied [that] I’ve done the best I could do.” And that’s all any of us can do. There’s no perfection, no ultimate becoming. There’s just a continuous journey. Donald Miller pointed out how some people become depressed when they realize this. Unlike the movies, there’s no one grand climax in the script of our lives. There are climaxes in the subscripts—milestones hit, goals achieved—but there’s no one climax. The human journey goes on. In Aaron Thier’s novel The World is a Narrow Bridge, the characters go on a cross-country trip. They cross the Mississippi River and enter the beautiful, magnificent American West. “And yet,” Ryan Holiday observes, “everything seems the same. The same trees, the same scenery, the same air.” The human journey goes on. As Thier writes, “You wait for the big moment, and what you get is gradual transition.”

Internal Focus. One step at a time. Gradual transition. That’s success.

Books Read

The Monster of Florence by Douglas Preston and Mario Spezi was wild…and disturbing. Basically, American journalist Douglas Preston and Italian journalist Mario Spezi decided to write a book about the never-identified serial killer who stalked and murdered young lovers between 1968 and 1985 in Florence, Italy. What makes the story even more unsettling is the web of corruption within the investigation—a web Preston and Spezi became caught in themselves.

-Each year, I reread Meditations by Marcus Aurelius, and I always find new takeaways. I ALWAYS feel lighter and happier afterward. The context of Meditations has been well-documented, but I’m compelled to reiterate it here because it’s the context that makes it so remarkable. Marcus Aurelius never intended for Meditations to be read by anyone—it was his private journal, full of admonishments, encouragements, and reminders he’d written to himself about how to live a good life, develop his character, and be of service to others. And here’s the thing: he was the most powerful man in the world. He could have done whatever he wanted! He could have indulged every desire and lived in comfort and luxury. Instead, his thoughts and actions were focused on doing the right thing and helping other people. He was the exception to the rule that “absolute power corrupts absolutely”. Named the last of the “Five Good Emperors”, Marcus Aurelius wrote Meditations 2,000 years ago, and it is still one of the most inspiring texts we have today on how to live a good, happy life.

-After reading The Consolations of Philosophy in May, I had been looking for more books by Alain de Botton. I searched his name on Amazon and found a book series he edits, The School of Life, and I bought and read How to Think More Effectively. I got so much from it. It’s made up of fifteen short chapters, each about a different way of thinking. I’m eager to go back through the book and notate the passages I marked and underlined. I also bought and look forward to reading The School of Life: An Emotional Education.

-From another book series I love, I bought and read How to Be a Stoic, a great little book with a few chapters from each of the 3 best books on Stoicism: Enchiridion, On the Shortness of Life, and Meditations.

-I bought The Splendid and the Vile: A Saga of Churchill, Family, and Defiance During the Blitz by Erik Larson over a year ago and finally got to reading it. And it’s as good as people say it is. The absolute best thing that I got from this book though was in the Sources and Acknowledgments section at the end. Larson tells us why he decided to add another book about Winston Churchill to the public collection, and how he made it different from all the rest.

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