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I feel like a lot of the time tension comes from misunderstanding. I have written about the plight of words. And how they so rarely feel like enough. And when they do — or perhaps a song does — well then we feel immense attraction to them. Because they capture the moment. They make us feel seen.

Today, I am thinking about many moments in my life that do not have the words to capture them. Pictures barely do them justice. Videos, too. These are moments without names or descriptions. And I think about how, well, how seen I felt in those moments. How present I felt. How, perhaps without really appreciating in the moment, I realize only now that those were the moments of life.

And they are quite random and unplanned. It’s not that I meticulously planned the perfect moment that would satisfy me in that particular way.

No. It was serendipity of sorts. Luck. Commitment. Etc. Etc. Lots of small things becoming a big thing.

I do not want to leave serendipity to chance. I want there to be less dependence on luck. I want there to be more determinism in the world. At the same time, am I bold enough to conjecture that that is possible? I imagine yes. It just sounds bold. The world has a way of figuring things out. The yin and yang of sorts. Sometimes interfering with it looks like a good thing. It looks strictly positive. But so rarely if ever is that really the case. In the darkness you learn a lot. Both personally, and also as a society. There’s this whole movement around happiness that the point of life is to be happy. I am not sure I actually agree with it. Like should our purpose be to eliminate suffering from the world? I feel like if I were to look back on the most ALIVE moments of my life…my short life…I think many of them have to do with extreme suffering. Extremely dark places. Hard things. Things that I hated perhaps in the moment. But I learned to love. Well those things all would not fall in the category of happiness seeking activities. And yet, and yet in hindsight – I would not trade them for the world. I would not trade finishing that marathon. Or that project. Or that adventure.

Perhaps I am lucky to even be able to think about said opportunities.

Perhaps I am so far detached from the reality of most people’s lived experiences. To celebrate danger. To celebrate the turmoil.

Where others perhaps can’t think 2 weeks out because they need to worry about putting food on the table. There are so many people who are literally starving.

It goes to show you that perhaps in any environment, the human brain, or at least mine, will want to think about optimizations. Will want to make itself look busy. To itself. But maybe that’s all motion. And the moment. The moment the 3 year old can enjoy. The raw authentic moment. That’s perhaps the prize.

Can you set a timer and focus for 10 minutes straight? 30 minutes? 3 hours?

How long can you go?

That’s a thing I’ve been thinking about lately. I mean I have been for a while. But my number is not as high as I’d like it to be. I think my number is like 15 minutes right now. Before my mind wanders and then of course I can whip it back into shape. But it’s not much longer than that that’s for sure.

That’s why I like running. My body is consumed. Especially when I pick up the pace. No time to physically or mentally wander. All I do is exist in that breath.

Of course even then. Even in the struggle. My mind wants to wander. But it’s hard to. Under the pressure of the cardio. And that’s why I like to run, or at least one big reason.

It’s funny how surprising it is how much you can get done in ~10 minute intervals. If you do like 10 of those a day. And you are very productive during them, well there’s a category of work that you can really get a lot done with.

Of course, some work requires collaboration. But I am increasingly unconvinced that most of the world’s problems could not be solved with more people doing 10 minute intervals of extremely focused work. It feels naive. I just feel like these days it’s rare. It’s hard, sure, but anyone could in theory do it.

It’s just we are so deep down the conditioning game. Our brains are so far, so far trained to look for stimulus. That blank pages. They are scary.

I tell people to write they rarely do. I do not blame them. I am not their commander or god. They can and should do what they want. But damn. It’s crazy!

Sit down. Set a timer. Write.

I think people’s lives would be so much better. I would, too. I do it, but I should do it more.

Funny how yet again this is the topic I get to. I want to travel to do a different world. Not physically. Mentally. But not – or probably not – like psychadelic speaking. I just mean subject matter. I want to tell more crazy stories.


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