We are in trying times and when “tried” we historically come together, bringing the best of ourselves to whatever needs to be done.
With the coronavirus we are asked to stay away from each other. To isolate, instead.
It is a perfect time to reflect on not just who you are, but who you could become. Enjoy John Cottingham’s article, and take a moment to consider who you were meant to be.
What is the soul if not a better version of ourselves?
John Cottingham, is professor emeritus of philosophy at the University of Reading, professor of philosophy of religion at the University of Roehampton, London, and an honorary fellow of St John’s College, Oxford University. His latest book is In Search of the Soul (2020). Published in association with Princeton University Press an Aeon Strategic Partner
What is the point of gaining the whole world if you lose your soul? Today, far fewer people are likely to catch the scriptural echoes of this question than would have been the case 50 years ago. But the question retains its urgency. We might not quite know what we mean by the soul any more, but intuitively we grasp what is meant by the loss in question – the kind of moral disorientation and collapse where what is true and good slips from sight, and we find we have wasted our lives on some specious gain that is ultimately worthless.
“I love how you remember to add the hint of dill to the lemon sauce.”
If I pushed you past the obvious and asked what you loved about a deceased family member/spouse or friend, you might come up with some unique-crazy-utterly-charming tidbits.
But did you tell them when they were alive?
The Book of Life’s article below is a wake-up call: don’t wait.
Sometimes, and it often happens in bed, we face an acute test at the hands of a lover to whom we have pledged our affections. We are asked, with little warning, and in a serious tone: ‘What do you love me for?’
Few moments in a relationship can be as philosophical as this – or as dangerous. A good answer has the power to confirm and enhance the union; a bad one could blow it apart. As we try to make headway, we immediately recognise that we can’t simply say ‘everything’. We’re being asked to make choices – and our love will be deemed sincere to the extent that the choices feel accurate to their recipients.
Jeff is head of recruiting for Bridgewater Associates, and is the creator of Talent Architecture, a science and data-driven approach of getting the best out of people both inside and out of the workplace.
The interview is worth listening to if you have the time. However, Parrish lifted 5 minutes of their discussion about giving feedback and uploaded it onto YouTube.
I have listened to it several times. If you are interested in improving your conversations with your wife/husband, children or co-worker, listen up!
I used to be a news junkie. Used to be. And then I
overdosed.
I stopped newspapers subscriptions, and only read online
news headlines. Then I stopped watching my favorite network and cable news.
Strangely, this newfound ability has led to a disability. I have
become more dismissive in general. As the article below suggests: I have lost
grace. Am I on my way to losing compassion?
I am not alone. It seems we are all tuning-out rather than
tuning-in. Think about it. This is damn dangerous.
Your nation dismisses its political allies. Does it teach
you to dismiss your personal allies? What happens when you need someone?
In Daring Greatly, social researcher Brené Brown tells a story about an experience she had in graduate school that surprised her. Called to a meeting with a professor, she expected to be intimidated and rebuked. Instead, her teacher was an ally. She pulled up a chair, sat down beside her, and offered Brené Brown adjustments.
This is shaky ground for a lot of us: moments when our work, our ideas, and our actions are open to feedback. It is a place of immense vulnerability. But it’s also the place where we are the most open and receptive. If we’re nurtured, this is how ideas evolve, broken systems detach, and innovation emerges.
And, on the other side, there is someone making a choice to sit beside or against us. That person carries a huge responsibility.
Nearly every day, we are that person, with that responsibility. Whether we are offering notes to a colleague, telling a child it’s bedtime, or extending a contrary opinion when two perspectives are in conflict. Grace in disagreement — saying this could be different and how — is an essential part of the human experience. We evolve through disagreement. Ideas subjected to criticism grow stronger than ideas left unchallenged.
It’s not disagreement, but graceful disagreement that makes the world go round. And it is rediscovering that grace that Brené Brown articulates so well in her guidelines for engaged feedback:
I know I am ready to give feedback when:
I’m ready to sit next to you rather than across from you.
I’m willing to put the problem in front of us rather than between us (or sliding it toward you).
I’m ready to listen ask questions, and accept that I may not fully understand the issue.
I want to acknowledge what you do well instead of picking apart your mistakes.
I recognize your strengths and how you can use them to address your challenges.
I can hold you accountable without shaming or blaming you.
I’m willing to own my part.
I can genuinely thank you for your efforts rather than criticize you for your failings.
I can talk about how resolving these challenges will lead to your growth and opportunity.
I can model the vulnerability and openness that I expect to see from you.
Of course a great many teachers already do this, especially with teachers of young children. The art of guiding and adjusting with compassion is common practice in classrooms around the world.
It’s when we grow older that we sometimes forget that offering and hearing feedback can be a place of mutuality and growth. Disharmony and discomfort can be grounds for transformation once grace and compassion are in the mix. What we need now more than ever is the capacity to both hear and speak honestly together. We need to seek not the hollow shells of half-ideas but the fullness of two thoughts, even when — especially if — they are in conflict. It is these antitheses, as Hegel wrote, that produce the most vibrant synthesis.
I am not into “cute” anything, so it follows that I have never been attracted to tacky funeral jewelry or most ideas about what to do with a loved one’s cremated ashes. However, the high-end art site Hyperallergic featured an article this week showcasing what can be done with cremains that I think deserves a read.
“Ashes were providing such a poor user experience,” said Justin Crowe, founder of Parting Stone, a company that turns cremated remains into solidified stone-like objects.
Ellie Duke January 28, 2020
Parting Stone transforms cremated remains into solidified, stone-like remains (image courtesy of Parting Stone)
Whether you agree with euthanasia or not, I
suspect it will eventually become legal in most states. After all, one could
say our death is the only “significant” day we don’t plan. Add in our love of control
and well…
In the Aeon article below, Daniel Callcut points
out an aspect of euthanasia I had not considered: it differs from suicide in
that it is not performed by the
person but for the person.
Callcut also brings up another angle: will you be
able to afford the choice?
DEATH BY DESIGN
Aeon Article, by Daniel Callcut
One day you wake early, walk into town, and a large advertising
billboard attracts your attention. The image on the poster is mysterious but
appears to depict a ceremony in a forest. You didn’t choose to come
into this world, says the text across the middle, but you can
choose how you leave. To the bottom right of the poster is a company
name, Designer Endings, and contact details. You call the number
and confirm that what is being offered is indeed the chance to die in just the
way you would like.
The
description is fiction – there aren’t currently any designer euthanasia
organisations or companies – but it’s worth wondering why it isn’t yet fact.
Many people no longer hold the kind of religious views according to which our
time of death is not allowed to be of our choosing. There are an increasing
number of countries where physician-assisted suicide and euthanasia is
permitted in a medical context. But why think that the right to choose our
ending is given legitimacy only, if at all, on health grounds? Why don’t we
have the right to end our lives not just when we want to but to also do so in
style?
As kids we learned “we need to know” to be valued by
others. From an evolutionary perspective, the more we knew the safer we were
while wandering the plains. Between the Serengeti and the streets of New York,
however, “knowing” has become a downright pain in the neck. We seldom even
consider that we might not know what we don’t know… because “needing to know”
married “needing to be right!”
Maimonides said: “Teach thy tongue to say I don’t know
and thou shalt progress.” Hmmmm… do you smell wisdom there?
Author Austin Kleon recently wrote a short piece on this topic. I read it twice. I needed to know what it said in order to not be a pain in the neck! Enjoy!
Teach your tongue to say I don’t
know
I’ve long believed that “not-knowing” is the proper mental state for making art, but I’m starting to think it’s the proper mental state for going about life in general. (As Mike Monteiro says, “The secret to being good at anything is to approach it like a curious idiot, rather than a know-it-all genius.”)
“Whatever inspiration is, it’s born from a continuous ‘I don’t know,’” said the poet Wislawa Szymborska in her 1996 Nobel Prize lecture. She spoke of why she values “that little phrase ‘I don’t know’ so highly”:
