post – Page 50 – Rhoneisms

Writing: Before Step One

Yesterday, I was standing in line in IKEA. Specifically, I was waiting to check out in the food store which is a store-within-a-store of the main store itself. I’m not sure if all of them are configured this way. This one is.
I had gone first to get gravy. The cream gravy. The same that they serve with the meatballs in the restaurant upstairs. It comes in a packet that you can mix with cream on the stove top at home. It is my favorite gravy and far better and easier than I could muster on my own.
We celebrate the holiday on Christmas Eve with a large dinner and present opening. As my wife’s family heritage is Norwegian, and they constitute the majority in attendance, we prepare a traditional Norwegian meal. The gravy for the meatballs, though Swedish, is very close to that served in Norway. Close enough for our liking.
I often wonder if I’m the only Black man in America making Lefse (traditional Norwegian potato flat bread) for Christmas.
In any case, I’m standing in the long line with my four items… Yep, four. IKEA is one of those places where you go in to get one thing and, well… Two packages of cream gravy, lingonberry sauce (I wasn’t sure if we had some already — better safe, than sorry), and some moose-shaped pasta my daughter likes. After about 20 minutes, I had only made it up to number three in line. The lady in front of me was clearly restless with the lack of speed. At the front of the line is an elderly lady, slowly taking each of her 20 or so items, one by one, from the cart. It really does look like she is caught in some TV sports-like instant replay. The lady in front of me turns around, looks at me, exasperated, and lets out a long sigh. She throws up her hands and says without saying “Can you believe this?!”
I shrug my shoulders and ask her, “What can we do?” I have a lot of patience for things like this. In fact, in many ways, I look forward to them. Stuck in a line with things I have to buy and no control over the time that it is taking. It is these times I’m forced to do nothing but appreciate the moment. To observe the details of a life that goes by too fast. Mostly because, if not for these forced breaks, we run through it without recognizing that it will be over sooner than we ever think.
What I wanted to tell this lady in front of me was that I was quite enjoying the elderly lady at the counter taking as much time as she needed. That, this waiting was the first break I had had in a very busy day. That, most importantly, it is times like these that, as a writer, I took the time to feed my writing the only nourishment it needs — observation. That she and the instant replay lady and the moose pasta, and cream gravy, and lingonberry sauce were going to end up in an essay written by America’s Only Black Christmas Lefse Maker and she should just shut up and enjoy the silence of waiting but that her doing that would make my story far less entertaining…
It reminded me of the grand opening of the first Trader Joe’s here in Minnesota. I’m a big fan and, before that store opened here, would make a point of stopping at their locations in other states when I traveled and stocked up on all of my favorite items that are only available there.
The place was a zoo. Crazy busy. My wife and I got the things we absolutely felt we needed and got into the long line to check out. The line moved very slowly. Unusually so. And when it was our turn we soon realized why…
The young lady checking us out was named Anastasia. If I had to guess, they flew her out from California to help with the grand opening — likely having rescued her from a SoCal commune where she was a member of a cult. She had long brown-blond hair, several ill considered tattoos, and piercings in places that were, um… interesting. Her blue eyes had that wake-n-bake glaze that I have not seen since my college bathroom mirror.
Anastasia was friendly enough. Too much so, in fact. As she slowly removed each item from our cart, she audibly pondered its greater purpose in the grand scheme of existence. She suggested all of the traditional and innovative ways such a pre-packaged and microwaveable food item might serve us. She then attempted to scan each item, several times. And, if she failed after a half-dozen attempts, just shrugged her shoulders and threw it in our bag and moved onto the next. She did this for each item. Every. One.
I seriously think it took almost a half hour to check out. If was comical. To this day, whenever my wife and I get an especially chatty or spacey clerk, we look at each other and say, in unison, “Anastasia!”
And here I was, in IKEA, alone. If I screamed “Anastasia!” there would be no one else there to understand…
Are you getting the point here? This is where writing begins. All of these experiences, stories, circumstances, details, and observations.
Your life is full of them. Write about your morning coffee. Write about your messy desk. There’s a hundred stories in every seemingly boring moment if you simply take the time to notice them. And all of those stories are connected to each other in beautiful ways. Each one by itself is an essay. Yet, find those woven threads and they just might make an interesting book. Even something as mundane as waiting in a checkout line is an opportunity to spin an interesting yarn or insightful tale (perhaps the title of this one might be Stuck! |keytf|referrer|yyhke
Stories Of Tuning In While Checking Out).
Live life. In there is all the stuff you need before step one.

I Don’t Know

I listen to the news. I read the reports. I do the research. I talk to my friends and family. I read the work of the experts. I study the laws and re-read the documents.
The truth is, I don’t know.
I don’t know why far too many people do far too many horrible things to far too many more people. I don’t know if there is anything we can do to change it. I don’t know if the answer is more laws or less. More access or less. More treatment or less. Anything. In fact, I don’t know if making any change at all will make the problem, any problem, worse or better.
I don’t think you do either. I don’t think any of us, outside of any issue, really can. Even within there is perspective at play. Heck, we |arfdf|referrer|ybdhb
don’t see the perfectly visible sometimes when it is in plain sight because we are blinded by the action and the assumptions of pre-conceptions, assumptions, and opinions.
Opinions are not answers.
I don’t think we can even begin to tackle a problem, especially a big one, unless we are ready to confess all that we don’t know. Because believing that we know the solution means we don’t look for real answers — only validation.
When we don’t know we are willing to try things. If those things don’t work we are then more willing to admit we were wrong and try something else. Creativity starts with a blank slate. All filled cups start empty.
I will likely struggle at times but I’m making a conscious effort, today and going forward, to make “I don’t know” my sensible default in any discussion.
We have some difficult problems to solve ahead of us. We always have. I don’t know how to solve them . You don’t either. So, lets discuss our ideas. Know that neither of us is going to get it completely right. Know that we all are going to have gains and sacrifices. Let’s be open to trying some things out with the knowledge that we both seek a working solution.

Book List 2012

Books I’ve Read In 2012

I generally keep all of the books I read during the course of the year together on the same shelf. Since, with very few exceptions, I mainly read non-fiction, it gives me a pretty good snapshot of some of what I have learned or been interested in during the course of a year.

I happened to glance at that shelf today and thought to myself, “That is a rather fine collection”.

I then took a look at both the Kindle and iBooks and thought, “Wow, an even finer collection of book still! I should list these somewhere.”

I then took a mental inventory of all of the books I have borrowed and returned and thought, “Holy cow I have read a lot of books!”

Here, in no particular order, are the books I have read in 2012 (and I may even be missing a few):

Writing: Step One

Sit your butt, in a chair, and write. That’s it. That’s all there is. Take your hind-quarters and, with purpose, plant it in a seating utensil of your choosing. Preferably, with something to write with. That’s step one (Well, not really. There’s actually a whole lot that has to happen before that step but I’ll get to that later).

It sounds so easy, doesn’t it? Surprisingly, for most, that is the the hardest part of all. Because there are a whole host of things that keep us from taking that seemingly simple step. Here are some of the more common excuses which I’m going to express in the first person because I have battled all of them and lose more often than I win:

I have something else to do.
I don’t have anything to write about.
I am not good enough.
I am not talented enough.
No one will read it anyway.

You know what those are? Lies and excuses and moot points. You know what those aren’t? Your butt, in a chair, writing.

OK, fine. You don’t like to write sitting. You’d rather stand like Hemingway or lay down like Capote. That’s fine. I don’t care. The point is just write. WRITE!

Look, don’t worry about what to write about. Just start writing the first thing that comes to your mind. Write about the wall color. Write about the dirt on the floor. Write about the crazy fantasy you are currently having about tracking me down and killing me in my sleep for even suggesting such insanity. I don’t care. The world does not care.

You know who should care? You. You have a hundred million stories just sitting there, inside of you, waiting to get out. How do I know? Because we all do. It’s called “living a life” and each moment is another chapter, another story. Look, it’s like this: If you don’t have a story to tell then you are not living a life worth telling stories about.

I write most stuff on my iPhone these days. The reasons? I always have it with me and it is the closest tool I have when the mood strikes and my butt is commanded to find a chair. I don’t think about the “right” tools or the “right” environment or the “right” time. The right tool is the one I have with me. The right environment is my butt in a chair. The right time is now.

Don’t worry about step two. Step two does not matter right now. The only thing that matters is you, writing, now. So, stop making excuses and start.

Don’t Wait

Don’t wait for permission from others to do the right thing.

Don’t wait for others to do the right thing.

Don’t wait to do the right thing.

Do the right thing.

Don’t wait for others to see the right thing has been done.

Don’t wait for others to thank you for doing the right thing.

Don’t wait for others to join you in doing the next right thing.

Do the next right thing.

Always do the right thing.

45

Here, on the occasion of my 45th birthday, are forty-five things I know.

Human |dnzis|referrer|saaen
significance is largely predicated by our inability to fully grasp how insignificant we are.
Most of what drives us can be summed up in two words — Me too.
There is no such thing as nothing. There are only things we can’t see.
Time is a finite resource. Its finite nature is that which connects us with the rest of existence.
How we spend our time here and now matters only here and now to that which is here and now.
Care.
Don’t worry. Do. If nothing can be done, don’t worry.
Saying no is saying yes to other things.
“You only need one good reason to commit to an idea, not four hundred. But if you have four hundred reasons to say yes and one reason to say no, the answer is probably no.” – Twyla Tharp in The Creative Habit
Abundance may seem more than enough but it is only so when we are not doing enough with our abundance.
Our approximation of others is built upon our approximation of self.
Community requires sidewalks.
The best ideas are timeless.
No idea is truly original.
Never, ever, ever, ever be without the tools to capture ideas.
Ideas need us as much as we need them.
Paper is always on.
There is a dangerous place between who we really are and who others expect us to be.
Don’t waste your CPU on things you are not committed to do.
Convenience can be a double-edged sword because inconvenience can be such a very good motivator.
Meaning is the space between the words.
Paper is never passive.
Take the time to appreciate the simple things that improve our lives in ways both measurable and immeasurable.
A good pen is a promise of love to an empty page.
If the best tool is the one that is with you, always make sure to carry the best tools you can afford.
Nothing makes me laugh more spontaneously and uncontrollably as good food.
Prince’s song Purple Rain is a near measure for measure, um… homage to Faithfully by Journey. I would link to a video of Purple Rain but Prince is famous for getting most videos of him performing removed in quick order from You Tube. But, hey, listen to the Journey song and sing the lyrics to Purple Rain and you will find it is THE EXACT SAME SONG.
Great artists steal.
Those things we think are complicated are likely far more simple than we think they are.
Those things we think are simple are likely far more complex than we can possibly understand.
We spend a good part of our lives attempting to re-learn the things that we have un-learned since childhood.
The most important things we learn about life we learn before kindergarten (a reference to this great book here).
What we often seek most is substance in a world of surface.
“The really important kind of freedom involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and effort, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them, over and over, in myriad petty little unsexy ways, every day.” – David Foster Wallace
If you sense a theme you are probably right.
If you must love your neighbor as yourself then the first step and the hardest step is to love yourself.
Right now is already a moment ago.
A journey of a thousand miles may begin with one step but takes place in-between the spaces of the tens of thousands that follow.
Truth requires courage.
“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter” – Martin Luther King Junior
Many of our most beloved children’s songs use the same melody (ABC, Baa Baa Black Sheep, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star).
It’s not Van Halen without “Diamond” David Lee Roth. Any other incarnation we accept of the same name is, in fact, a pale substitute of the real thing and devalues the higher quality original in the same way that we call all bargain store brand tissue paper Kleenex.
I can guess any woman’s age within three years. (Yes, I have a secret. Yes, it is the same one that the carnies use. No, I’m not going to tell you.)
Find your limits. Find your loves. Respect each deeply.
I’m far more comfortable with and interested in the things I don’t know.

Columbia River Knife and Tool’s M16-02Z Knife Review

Columbia River Knife and Tool’s M16-02Z Knife Review from Patrick Rhone on Vimeo.
A quick video review of the Columbia River Knife and Tool’s M16-02Z Zytel Razor Edge Tanto Blade Knife.

How To Cure Cancer

Care.
Yep. That’s it. That’s the cure. If you want it in detail, read the rest….
My wife, Bethany Gladhill, and I faced a major scare over the weekend. She had all the signs and symptoms of Inflammatory |kaeba|referrer|kkytr
Breast Cancer. Of all of the forms of breast cancer, it is one of the most deadly, that takes far too many (and, any is too many) way too young.
Luckily, for us, her biopsy came back negative. Turned out to be a ruptured cyst (which has identical symptoms and detection procedures). Unfortunately, most do not.
Look, we can send robots to Mars and upgrade their software from earth in minutes. We can pour trillions into elections only to produce the same outcomes we have had for 200 years. Or…
We could be taking the collective wealth and knowledge of our society and saving the lives of millions and those that love them by ensuring that no one has to face cancer ever again. No, it is not as sexy as robots on Mars and not as entertaining as watching Washington mudslinging and gridlock but… It matters.
Start. Today.
Not by buying more crap you don’t need (even the pink crap). Not by throwing a dollar into a cup and calling the job done.
As a species , we have proven that there is nothing we can’t do if we set out to do so. We have cured the incurable countless times before. I fervently believe that, if we can send robots to Mars and fix elections with money, we can cure cancer. All it takes is the same thing it always has for every one of those challenges…
Care.
But, care scales. In order to tackle the big problems the more people who do it the more likely it is to succeed.
Start by educating yourself and those around you. Start by sitting in empathy and practicing mindful and compassionate listening to those who have been there (trust me, we all know someone). Then, continue by raising awareness and supporting in any way possible (money, time, attention, etc.) those organizations who are active on the front lines of this fight.
Because, what got robots to Mars, put men on the Moon, ends famine and war, and, yes, even elects presidents, is the power of that one simple, yet powerful, word set into action and collectivized.
It even is the secret to curing cancer.

Remainders 07.19.2012

I will say that one thing I have missed about Twitter so far is the ability to quickly and succinctly share links to things I have found useful or otherwise enjoyed. I used to do that regularly, pre-Twitter, on patrickrhone.com in a regular feature I called “Remainders”. It would seem that there is no better time to start that back up again and to share these things with you.

Here, in no particular order, are some things I have really been enjoying lately…

Caesura Letters — My friend James Shelly’s smart, philosophical, mindful subscription newsletter. Fantastic writing, deep thought, and enlightenment. It makes me excited to open my inbox each day and makes me smarter with each one. Seriously. Use the link before for 40% off (only $3.99 a month).
Seven Summits by Dick Bass, Frank Wells, Rick Ridgeway — A wonderful book, given to me by a friend, about two guys who set out to be the first people to climb the highest summit on every continent in the world. They were both in their fifties, untrained, unprepared, and outmatched for the task. Yet, despite all of it, they had a dream and they chased it. It’s quite compelling and in line with some research I have been doing into the idea that accomplishment can become an addiction.
Nike+ Running for iPhone on the iTunes App Store — I’ve been using this to track my runs and have found it quite fun. It does a good job of giving me just enough of what I need and nothing I don’t. Plus, it has Path integration and I enjoy the fact I can share my runs there and people can comment on them or cheer me on.
Path — Speaking of which, this is where I have been sharing and having conversations while taking a sabbatical from Twitter. I love, love, love, this app. It feels so much more comfortable to me. I wish more of my friends were on it but I’m happy with the way I get to engage with the ones that are.

Twalden

Henry David Thoreau wished to separate himself from community and society and live, for a time, alone. Not because he did not enjoy, appreciate, or benefit from his participation in it. He did so because he knew the only way to best evaluate his place within it was to live and observe it from the outside. So he built a small cabin in the woods, a brief walking distance from town, on a small pond called Walden. The land on which it was built was actually owned by his friend and contemporary Ralph Waldo Emerson. I consider both literary and intellectual heroes of mine.
It is through this lens that I have been putting a lot of (read: way too much) thought into Twitter, and my place within it, lately. For months and, perhaps, years now something about it has not felt right with me about it. I’m beginning to understand that it is not just one thing but many, many, things that have led me to feel this unease. Here are some of the few I have identified.

“What are you doing?” (A Brief History)

From the beginning, Twitter was a place to post a personal status update and nothing more. It was modeled on Jack Dorsey’s long time fascination with the way New York City taxi cab services transmitted their status and location (Here is a fascinating interview about this early history). The question asked by Twitter, at the top of the post text field was, “What are you doing?”. This was great for a while and, in the early days of Twitter, this is how most people used the service. Seeing a tweet that was simply “@ lunch” or “Coding” was commonplace and such simple updates were the majority.
As more users poured into the service and big companies, activists, governments, and more began to use it, the way this new majority used the service began to morph. It became a place to communicate, organize, and report — thanks in no small way to replies and hashtags, both of which were community created and then later adopted as features by Twitter. In this new usage, revolutions were supported, stars were made, news was broken. There was power in the new communication paradigm that this new usage and these new features allowed. It was through this new use case for the service that Twitter also likely began to see the power and possible business model for the service. As such, they changed the question…

Ask A Different Question, Get A Different Answer

In November of 2009, they changed the question to “What’s Happening”, thus, the role the company expected users of the service to play. It was arguably their first not-so-subtle communication of intent. They no longer cared to ask about you, or what you were doing. They wanted you to take the role of reporter. No longer a participant, but a spectator. And, let’s be honest, the fact that you are having lunch is important to a very small few and likely only you. The concert, or story, or brand, or movie, or revolution, or whatever else is “happening” is important to many.
More to the point, they can build a business around making certain brands, stories, movies, concerts, etc. seem more important than others. They can sell these “promoted” topics as a form of advertising. They can insert them into your timeline. They can give them more to say than they give you. If you want to know “What’s happening?”, just ask them and they will be more than happy to tell you. In fact, they would prefer it.

Who am I? Why am I here?

The header above is a quote by Vice Admiral James Stockdale from the 1992 Vice Presidential Debate. He had been picked as Ross Perot’s running mate just a week before appearing. He was a decorated war veteran, former POW, a true American hero. Yet, most people watching the debate had no idea who he was. He was hoping that by leading with these questions, he would have a chance to tell them. Instead, he was widely ridiculed. Why? Because no one really cared…

It was terribly frustrating because I remember I started with, “Who am I? Why am I here?” and I never got back to that because there was never an opportunity for me to explain my life to people. It was so different from Quayle and Gore. The four years in solitary confinement in Vietnam, seven-and-a-half years in prisons, drop the first bomb that started the … American bombing raid in the North Vietnam. We blew the oil storage tanks of them off the map. And I never—I couldn’t approach—I don’t say it just to brag, but, I mean, my sensitivities are completely different.

I, too, would like to get back to that. My sensitivities seem completely different from what I see on Twitter today.

What am I doing?

Whenever I look at the “Trends” or the popular hashtags, an aggregate of millions of users combined with businesses that have paid for those spots, I don’t see anything I am even remotely interested in there. I don’t care about what they are telling me is happening. My timeline is filled with lots of interesting things to read or think about, but at the cost of my own ability and time to do so. Twitter is rattling sabers that indicate they are going to restrict the ability of third-party clients to filter and access the service in ways that I find sane and sustainable.
Ultimately, I don’t know if what Twitter has become is for me, or the people I care about, or the conversations I wish to have. The things I want to know are “happening” — like good news about a friend’s success, or bad news about their relationship, or even just the fact they are eating a sandwich and the conversation around such — I wish to have at length and without distraction. Such conversations remain best when done directly, and there are plenty of existing and better communication methods for that.
So, therefore, I must take my own sabbatical from it so I can decide if there remains a place for me there and, if so, where and why.