This was originally published on my website, colors.kaelshipman.me, on MLK Day 2017.

Martin Luther King, Jr. would have been 88 today. We celebrate this even as Donald J Trump ascends the steps of the White House in a smog of controversy and divisiveness. Some choose to ignore this; others choose to protest it; others are quite happy about it; many don’t know what to think or what to do.

The threats we face today are remarkable in their subtlety. Has Trump armed a White House cabinet with men (and a select few women) who are intelligent, successful, balanced and fair…


For the past several weeks, I’ve been engaged in a sort of email game with a man whose mission is to help people grow through self-contemplation. The game is called A Lens a Day, and it’s an email each day with a question and an anecdote. The challenge is to look inside yourself for the answer to the question, finding inspiration in the anecdote, and to reply to the email. The result is that at the end of 54 days, you have an organized collection of your life’s philosophy in the emails you’ve written in response to the prompts. You…


Note: This is a first attempt at a document I’ve had in mind for a number of months. It was born of the feeling that we lack a clear vision for the future that open ideologies might yield, and that without that vision, we risk missing out on an opportunity to coordinate our efforts. I’ve since moved on to begin work on v0.2 (as yet unpublished), which takes a somewhat different angle. Thus, while the ideas contained herein may be valid, I consider them a step in the development of the concept, rather than an endpoint.

The door is open…


Today Fatima witnessed an air show.

She had flown in from Erbil, Iraq just 3 weeks prior for a month in Chicago during her break from University. That she was so genuinely curious about the United States, its people and its culture was a surprise to me. Young, strong and beautiful, her country had suffered brutal conflict during the entire extent of her life, and no small part of it had been funded directly by the tax dollars of the thousands of people sitting around her today. …


This piece is a member of a sort of “series” that I’m publishing that comprises the various emails I’ve written to people and organizations in attempts to find support in realizing my ideas. I hope it serves both as an interesting look into one person’s attempt to contribute to the world and as a call to others to come join me.

Email From Kael Shipman to Jim Whitehurst

Mr. Whitehurst,

My name is Kael Shipman, and in January of this year, in response to work I had been doing in Panama with Nathan Gray and Verne Harnish, I began developing The Operations Institute, a uniquely millennial nonprofit…


This piece is a member of a sort of “series” that I’m publishing that comprises the various emails I’ve written to people and organizations in attempts to find support in realizing my ideas. I hope it serves both as an interesting look into one person’s attempt to contribute to the world and as a call to others to come join me.

Email from Kael Shipman to Ashoka

Hey!

I have an idea that I’d love some input on. I grabbed this address from the website under the “Share a Trend” section, so I hope this is the right spot!

Abstract

I believe there’s a trend that’s not…


I cried today, caught, suddenly, in one of those rare eddies of self-hatred and pity that swirl to a climax here and there in the silence of my deepest thoughts. Maybe it was the exhaustion of several weeks of work and emotionally draining challenges without respite that really did me in, but the feeling was rich and bitter-sweet all the same.

It was the last hour of a quiet Sunday morning, and I was on the bus going to the Mercado de Abastos. A preacher climbed aboard to work the crowd and I dedicated myself intensely to drowning him out…


Inspired by yet another suicide bomber, on yet another day of death, in yet another religious war….

I am tired. I am tired of bearing witness to the deaths of others. Brothers, sisters, aunts and uncles, mothers. Fathers, sons and daughters. Slaughtered and gone, and the craters of many hearts left gaping and vacant where once love had a home. I am tired of anger and flames, and the acid taste of the thick soup of hatred whose bubbles pucker and burst in the searing sun of a desert.

This is not my world, for my world knows not the…

Kael Shipman

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