This is for me. Breathe. Only for me. Breathe.
A quieter way. A faster way to the true heart of the matter.
I read that book. The one from what’s-his-name, about Deep Work. Cal Newport. Is that correct? Yes it’s correct. I read it when we were in Cambridge (UK) if I remember right. It would be pretty to think so, wouldn’t it. Because I like to think that every time I crossed that little bridge over the river, each school day, that I was having similar epiphanies to the ones Cal had when he crossed his bridge. My memory’s so bad I can’t remember his bridge. It was a big bridge. A very big bridge. To Manhattan! That’s what it was. It feels too good to be true. Very RHONY and all that. Maybe I’m wrong.
Anyway I read that book from cover to cover. It was a forced work. The reading of it I mean. Not because I wasn’t fascinated. Because I was. I was riveted. Except for the draw of all the other things that wanted my attention. Things that would have been easier to read or watch. Things that would have been far more like looking into a mirror.
But I forced myself to read this book, out of the stacks and stacks of partially read books I have, because it was not at all like looking into a mirror. It was more like going deep into the corridors of the self. But in a very practical, how-to manual kind of way. This idea of the deep work core architecture office building
blew blue my mind….
Stelae on the sea.
2018-11-13 07:01 1362 words. Darn. I was hoping for a 137 in there somewhere.
2018-11-25 09:34 278 words. Getting there.
Commit change optional extended description: “Iterating in public feels scary. Not the iterating part but leaving the old versions available for perusal. Exposure = fear of rejection. Fear of rejection is directly linked to ancient biology: tribe = safety. If we were rejected by the tribe we risked our very lives. We were alone and vulnerable.”
355 words not including these. Don’t know why numbers always feel so important; I’m not a true numerology freak. It’s just my dad is/was a mathematician. Is the number 390 perfect? I hope so. Is perfectionism crippling? I hope not. I prefer 400.
“You must be on your guard for looping, as it can quickly subvert an entire productive meditation session. When you notice it, remark to yourself that you seem to be in a loop, then redirect your attention toward the next step.” —Cal Newport. Deep Work (Kindle Locations 1945-1946). Grand Central Publishing. Kindle Edition.
Ooh. 440 words. Niiiiiiice.
Edit: I was wrong about the bridge. The bridge(s) was(/were) between Boston (Cal’s home at the time, on Pinckney St., Beacon Hill) and Cambridge (his workspace at MIT), USA, and in fact there were two of them. He looped along the banks of the River Charles, between Longfellow Bridge and Massachusetts Ave.
My ignorance never fails to astound me. I’ll have to loop back in my travels, and reread the entire book, in hopes of properly applying its principles.
Comments/feedback always welcome! ❤︎
P.S. Post image created by applying (to this post, post-publishing) the incredibly rad “procedurally generated blackout poetry” bookmarklet by Max Kreminski (suggested by @taylorcate via MUDDLE), then screen-shotting a portion of it, then “framing” it.