"But if he is carrying one hundred pounds of water and wood up the side of that mountain, it is impossible to carry the extra thirty pounds of negative energy. "
That is a metaphor for our time. Not so many generations ago, few people could escape the daily challenge of basic survival. How many people who are working daily to survive spend the evening asking "Why am I here?" Such questions are the province of people who sense no purpose.
A good friend and mentor of mine recently died earlier than he should have of cancer. And while I mourn the loss of a friend I mourn more the loss of the knowledge and insight he carried in his brain. It’s gone. Sure parts of him are carried as memories diffused among a small population. It’s like the books you described, his friends and colleagues are notes in the margins. Soon, sooner than those books you've described, disappearing as dust into the past. What then?
It speaks to the poetry and voluntary suffering while alive, I think, that makes it all worth it. Every second. And I'm talking about the sort of aliveness you embrace.
I love the idea of a discourse through the ages in the margins of the books we read and write in. The notes we want to remember, to be able to find in a quick page turning effort with whatever symbol or notation left behind. Conversations that are one sided but a glimpse into the thoughts of another reader - the theme of the quotes and notations the reader before found valuable. Those, as example, are a form of influence.
I totally agree. It suddenly makes reading no longer lonely but a conversation, adding that extra human element. I find myself writing, at times, wondering what the next reader would think about what I wrote. It adds another layer to the art of reading and thinking.
Humanity and being human will be the cornerstones of every day we live, because I think that as simple as it sounds, because "duh, we are humans, no?" does not make us feel truly human as we ought to. I struggle with it every day. Thank you for the reminders to never forget the spark inside our skulls!
There’s a lot in this that stayed with me, especially the tension between optimization and living itself. I think modern life quietly encourages us to become managers of existence rather than participants in it, endlessly measuring, refining, and postponing life in the hope of eventually arriving at a version of ourselves capable of finally beginning. Your image of carrying “extra weight” mentally while already carrying enough physically felt especially powerful because it names something many people experience but rarely articulate. I also loved the section on old books and marginal notes. It made me think that perhaps reading was never only about preserving knowledge or producing outcomes. Maybe it was always a conversation carried across time, one mind leaving traces for another. Thank you for this. It felt alive in a way many things online no longer do.
Sara, this part of your comment is especially epic: "managers of existence rather than participants." I think this is precisely the problems. And even further, many instead of managing their lives are too often managed by others. It is a cascade. Thank you for sharing this and sparking some thoughts in my head for the night.
Sam, thank you. What struck me while reading your reply is that the cascade you mention may be exactly the danger. We begin by managing life, then gradually become managed by systems, expectations, algorithms, obligations, and eventually by internalized versions of those things. At some point it becomes difficult to tell where our own voice ends and the architecture around us begins. Perhaps part of living now is learning how to participate again rather than simply comply.
Sweat, old books, defy the heavens and hells with laughter. And most of all, drop the stones of bitterness and hoist your firewood and water. Verily amen brother.
Michael Easter recommended this page recently in one of his writings. Based on a short description I went all in and signed up for a year. And this is the first exposure to you and all I can say is, I am excited to read more from you.
“My mind latched onto what was irritating me from earlier that day, what I was worried would happen later that day, and what I was craving to achieve several years in the future.”
Such ruminations are all well and good and adaptive, though they can steal the NOW from us if we’re not careful. I think it’s a matter of having a good mental transmission for shifting gears at will. I’ve cycled through scores of “techniques” for staying in the NOW more. They were all imperfect and they were all worthwhile. Intense exercise is definitely the ultimate for switching off the hamster wheel brain, at least for a while. And as you experienced on the subway platform, laughing at the absurdity of it all is pretty darn good too. Thanks for writing, Sam! 👏
Haha if you more techniques, by all mean share them, but to your point, nothing quite does it like a maxed heart rate. The only thing that comes close is much gentler—walking in the woods and hearing nothing but birds wings, wind in leaves...
So true. Most of the photos that accompany my essays are of a canyon near my house. Hiking there a couple of times a week for the wildflowers and bird songs and rushing streams and big blue sky is my best bliss-out time. Also good music (have multiple play lists for different moods). Have you tried finger tapping/counting as a thought blocking/distraction technique? Pretty effective.
Breath counting is similar, but I find breath focus can make me MORE anxious sometimes. Cycles of 5 finger taps/counts (thumb and forefinger), pause and repeat seems to dial down the nerves and mental chatter pretty fast.
Hey Sam - this is my first essay I’ve read on substack and I really enjoyed your writing, especially this sentence:
“at what point does the fact we can die tomorrow supersede the commandments to sacrifice guaranteed life today for potential life when we are a hundred years old?”
I’ve thought a lot about this. We are told to exploit this longevity strategy but that’s based on an assumption that it will compound over a long period of time.
Like you said, when does uncertainty about the length of the game invalidate long term optimization?
Anyway thanks for your writing and appreciate the effort you put into it.
I loved this! I think being a firefighter has given me an interesting perspective on life and death. We just truly never know when death will reach out and touch us. At work, we also visit a lot of nursing homes. When I go in there I often wonder how many days of their lives these people missed out on or didn’t give their all to living. Do they desperately want those days back to try again?
"But if he is carrying one hundred pounds of water and wood up the side of that mountain, it is impossible to carry the extra thirty pounds of negative energy. "
That is a metaphor for our time. Not so many generations ago, few people could escape the daily challenge of basic survival. How many people who are working daily to survive spend the evening asking "Why am I here?" Such questions are the province of people who sense no purpose.
Yes, this is channeling a good bit of Dostoevsky. I can almost hear the Underground Man's voice as he nervously chatters away to himself.
A good friend and mentor of mine recently died earlier than he should have of cancer. And while I mourn the loss of a friend I mourn more the loss of the knowledge and insight he carried in his brain. It’s gone. Sure parts of him are carried as memories diffused among a small population. It’s like the books you described, his friends and colleagues are notes in the margins. Soon, sooner than those books you've described, disappearing as dust into the past. What then?
Yeah, an elegy as opposed to a eulogy.
It speaks to the poetry and voluntary suffering while alive, I think, that makes it all worth it. Every second. And I'm talking about the sort of aliveness you embrace.
I love the idea of a discourse through the ages in the margins of the books we read and write in. The notes we want to remember, to be able to find in a quick page turning effort with whatever symbol or notation left behind. Conversations that are one sided but a glimpse into the thoughts of another reader - the theme of the quotes and notations the reader before found valuable. Those, as example, are a form of influence.
I totally agree. It suddenly makes reading no longer lonely but a conversation, adding that extra human element. I find myself writing, at times, wondering what the next reader would think about what I wrote. It adds another layer to the art of reading and thinking.
“to savor this brief bit of life we are blessed with—and to laugh at the hell and the heaven found in each and every day we are given.” Enuf said!
It all comes down to a simple choice. Thanks, Barry.
Humanity and being human will be the cornerstones of every day we live, because I think that as simple as it sounds, because "duh, we are humans, no?" does not make us feel truly human as we ought to. I struggle with it every day. Thank you for the reminders to never forget the spark inside our skulls!
Rock on, Kai. It seems to be that spark that else everything comes down. It is like Thoreau's "simplify simplify simplify!"
I have often said, "Sometimes your head is the heaviest weight in the gym," and some days it's all we can manage to carry up that hill. 👊🏻
I love this.
There’s a lot in this that stayed with me, especially the tension between optimization and living itself. I think modern life quietly encourages us to become managers of existence rather than participants in it, endlessly measuring, refining, and postponing life in the hope of eventually arriving at a version of ourselves capable of finally beginning. Your image of carrying “extra weight” mentally while already carrying enough physically felt especially powerful because it names something many people experience but rarely articulate. I also loved the section on old books and marginal notes. It made me think that perhaps reading was never only about preserving knowledge or producing outcomes. Maybe it was always a conversation carried across time, one mind leaving traces for another. Thank you for this. It felt alive in a way many things online no longer do.
Sara, this part of your comment is especially epic: "managers of existence rather than participants." I think this is precisely the problems. And even further, many instead of managing their lives are too often managed by others. It is a cascade. Thank you for sharing this and sparking some thoughts in my head for the night.
Sam, thank you. What struck me while reading your reply is that the cascade you mention may be exactly the danger. We begin by managing life, then gradually become managed by systems, expectations, algorithms, obligations, and eventually by internalized versions of those things. At some point it becomes difficult to tell where our own voice ends and the architecture around us begins. Perhaps part of living now is learning how to participate again rather than simply comply.
Sweat, old books, defy the heavens and hells with laughter. And most of all, drop the stones of bitterness and hoist your firewood and water. Verily amen brother.
Poetically and epically said, my friend. Thank you.
Michael Easter recommended this page recently in one of his writings. Based on a short description I went all in and signed up for a year. And this is the first exposure to you and all I can say is, I am excited to read more from you.
Welcome, Blake, I am stoked to have you, and even more so because you're a fan of Michael Easter. Thank you for jumping in.
A voyage I believe you would find interesting. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QFyBADFOrTE
This is delightfully savage. Thank you for sharing.
I love your pragmatic approach. The stoicism flows and reminds me to ground myself in the absurd to see just how absurd it is.
“My mind latched onto what was irritating me from earlier that day, what I was worried would happen later that day, and what I was craving to achieve several years in the future.”
Such ruminations are all well and good and adaptive, though they can steal the NOW from us if we’re not careful. I think it’s a matter of having a good mental transmission for shifting gears at will. I’ve cycled through scores of “techniques” for staying in the NOW more. They were all imperfect and they were all worthwhile. Intense exercise is definitely the ultimate for switching off the hamster wheel brain, at least for a while. And as you experienced on the subway platform, laughing at the absurdity of it all is pretty darn good too. Thanks for writing, Sam! 👏
Haha if you more techniques, by all mean share them, but to your point, nothing quite does it like a maxed heart rate. The only thing that comes close is much gentler—walking in the woods and hearing nothing but birds wings, wind in leaves...
So true. Most of the photos that accompany my essays are of a canyon near my house. Hiking there a couple of times a week for the wildflowers and bird songs and rushing streams and big blue sky is my best bliss-out time. Also good music (have multiple play lists for different moods). Have you tried finger tapping/counting as a thought blocking/distraction technique? Pretty effective.
I have not, only breathing and counting the breath. I have to try it!
Breath counting is similar, but I find breath focus can make me MORE anxious sometimes. Cycles of 5 finger taps/counts (thumb and forefinger), pause and repeat seems to dial down the nerves and mental chatter pretty fast.
Hey Sam - this is my first essay I’ve read on substack and I really enjoyed your writing, especially this sentence:
“at what point does the fact we can die tomorrow supersede the commandments to sacrifice guaranteed life today for potential life when we are a hundred years old?”
I’ve thought a lot about this. We are told to exploit this longevity strategy but that’s based on an assumption that it will compound over a long period of time.
Like you said, when does uncertainty about the length of the game invalidate long term optimization?
Anyway thanks for your writing and appreciate the effort you put into it.
I loved this! I think being a firefighter has given me an interesting perspective on life and death. We just truly never know when death will reach out and touch us. At work, we also visit a lot of nursing homes. When I go in there I often wonder how many days of their lives these people missed out on or didn’t give their all to living. Do they desperately want those days back to try again?
I knew this was going to be a great read from the moment I read the title! 😂