The books beside my digital bed
In progress — December 2022 ❤️
Well, here’s a surprise which shouldn’t surprise me. Paulo’s The Alchemist has not aged at all in the nearly thirty years since I read it.
I think that’s because it’s written in the language of myth, which ages at a slower rate than we. Myths, also known as archetypes are like metaphors in that they compare two things implicitly: this thing is like that thing. But without stating what the second thing is.
I’d like to tell you what Paulo’s second thing is — but it would probably be easier to write you a myth 😃
Myths are stronger than metaphors because they persist through time. So we discover the same myth over and over, retold using the metaphorical language of the day. These days, the metaphorical language of myth is even — sometimes — the language of science
…a faint sensation, as if a distant memory, of falling from a great height. We know we are approaching the grandest of mysteries. The size and age of the cosmos are beyond ordinary human understanding, lost somewhere between immensity and eternity… [0]
Paulo tells us his story in the language of myth. A sycamore tree, a buried treasure, a desert journey, an oasis, a scent on the wind, a heart, a sycamore tree. But what do these myth/metaphor things actually mean? How does a boy turn himself into the wind?
Myths speak to us of ourselves. But not only of the day to day feeling, thought or memory. There is a tingling in the spine when we hear one of these myths. A glorious rightness beyond the dabbles of the day. We grapple with the flickers of recognition, as our myth-writer rewrites our unarticulated experience from the depths. From the great heights of our cognitive potential too.
I tore these words from others, at great risk of ruining your appetite for myth! But I hope you see what I mean — that it’s tough to articulate what it means. I borrowed liberally too. Sometimes uncredited, but never unloved ✨🎹 🪐☀️🕛
Nevertheless, the story is about why, and how, a boy turned himself into the wind. In case you missed it, again… why, and how did he do this? Here’s the answer. You’ll have to read the book for yourself. And then some. I’m so sorry about that, really I am — though I didn’t make up the rules.
Thank you, dearest Paulo. I will always treasure your heart ❤️
I picked up The Courage to be Disliked on a recommendation. Thanks to my friend Daniel— again. Though I still haven’t yet finished Daniel Kahneman’s Noise.
Ichiro and Fumitake created their own beautiful Socratic-eqsue dialogue treatise, based on the work of psychological master influencer Alfred Adler.
I once knew a Japanese girl who lived in Sendai who she said she enjoyed her job, except that she was always expected to express fake niceties for the customers. Even when the situation didn’t call for it. Always smile and show happiness, she was told. If you’ve ever tried to do this, you’ll know it’s emotionally exhausting.
The book convinces us, logically at least, that we need to nip this behaviour in the bud. Btw, the word happiness on the cover (that’s my heart around it) doesn’t mean a state of constant joy so don’t get your hopes up for that. It’s more to do with an alignment to Paulo’s aforementioned cognitive heights. And as a nice bonus — your example would encourage others to do the same.
So, take your pick, if you dare, of myth or philosophy-psychology. They both seem to lead in the same direction.
Ok, last one. So I was told a few times by another friend, Mette, to read more female authors. Well, gracefully implied at least. So here I am on my second Brené Brown[1]
dare to lead connects emotional competency to leadership challenges. We need competent leaders on a global stage more than ever because our biggest problems are global. And far too many self styled wannabes are taking up the space because many good potentials hold themselves back. Especially, in organizations where the junior-high-school-bully types dominate the leadership agenda. [2][3]
Who would want to be a part of that? I recall film director James Cameron contemptuously savaging political & corporate leadership a while ago. Only a few words, but the emotional punch stayed with me. Creating art, as he does, is also a form of leadership.
Thankfully, Brené gives us tools — lots of tools — to help us lead with vulnerability and from the heart, contextualized for a corporate environment. I think perhaps she’ll be leading us in the same direction as this month’s other recommendations though I haven’t gotten far yet.
So there it is, then. Have a good year end break but keep up the reading and I hope to see some of you soon. In a desert, perhaps, or at an oasis. In a lair guarded by a spider-like ancient, or under a sycamore-mallorn tree. Not all those who wonder are lost 🚶🐪🐫🐪🎄🎁🎅🌟
[0] Those archetypal opening words, quoted from Carl Sagan’s 1980’s TV show Cosmos, still echo to us on the wind, though his living mind may be lost to us now. Somewhere between the vast and endless ocean he longed to be.
[1] I have very little conscious awareness that I prioritize male authors. Separating out the bias in one’s mind is a tricky reveal, requiring practice. Now I deliberately pick books by women, because the default is still to go for the men’s. Even after reading a famous book by Daniel Kahneman (a man) about how these biases work.
I think we’ll always need each other, the difference of gender be damned.
[2] Things used to be worse, of course. I’ll settle for political scheming and its attendant emotional manipulation over bloodshed, any day of the white collar working week.
[3] To not speak up about bullies is a form of collusion. Some call this a sin of omission [not doing something you should] to distinguish it from a sin of commission [for example, bullying someone].
