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Jen Knox's Blog, page 11
September 25, 2024
On style & week 19 of 52
Kafka’s short story, “Poseidon,” depicts the God of the Sea as disgruntled and bored by overwhelming administrative tasks. Meanwhile, Poseidon’s followers see him as a showboat, always “idling through the tides with his trident.” What they never see is the endless paperwork and managerial duties associated with managing the waters. Poseidon, as Kafka explores him, is misunderstood due to his title and adornments (damn trident!).
So much for appearances.
Our beliefs and reality may or may not be reflected in our attire, but how we dress and express (see: everything from tattoos to glasses frames) is seen as a creative message to the world, intentional or not.
When I started teaching leadership to undergrads, a successful local businesswoman told me that she wore the same basic outfit every day so as not to be judged by her appearance. She wanted to keep her message clear and consistent, and her dress emphasized this intention. She considered variations on her theme mere distractions, both to herself and those she led.
Dr. Ngozi Okonjo Iweala, the former Minister of Finance in Nigeria and WTO Director-General has been analyzed and praised for her dress. Known for wearing traditional Nigerian wax print fabric rather than dressing in imported colonial business attire or imported fabrics was originally seen as a statement of rebellion or a political stance. Dr. Iweala dresses in a way that reflects her culture and taste, and simply because it was unexpected by some, this was news.
The way people dissect others’ personal fashion choices is fascinating, but I’m also curious about the way our style choices influence how we feel and show up in the world. For some of us, our dress may be a reflection of—or reflected by—our art.
The reasons we select what we do to show up in the world can be seen as a statement or a way of hiding, a way of pledging allegiance or denying harmful trends. It can also reflect association, such is the case with uniforms that advertise company slogans or keep us safe from factory parts falling on our feet (ah, the steel-toe boots).
I remember my factory work with fondness. It was a little heavy, but a lovely shade of dark blue and flush with pockets. I worked at Aramark Uniform Services for a time, where I’d move other heavy uniforms from line to line (I wrote about it here) prideful that I boasted a very similar vibe to Rosie the Riveter. At other jobs, I’ve been tasked to wear khakis, all-black, a variety of polos, sequins, and, finally, business casual attire.
How we dress can have a surprising impact on how we feel, how we show up, and how others see us (whether we want it to or not).
I’ve recently decided it would simplify my own life if I adopted a monochrome closet. Not just storing clothes by color but wearing blue with blue and black with black, playing with shading the way my artist father taught me. With accessories, of course, I will go the route of least resistance to save time. But I also find the simple elegance of monochrome a statement in of itself.
I am not trying to hide but rather simplify and focus. We’ll see how it goes. As I pack for Italy, where I’ll be teaching writing workshops in Urbania, I believe this new wardrobe will serve me well. I was told that Americans are appreciated in this part of Italy but that shirts with words and slogans on them (with the rare exception of certain sports) are seen as rather tacky. I like to think that my “childless dog lady” tee might be akin to wielding a fake trident on the sea.
The way we adorn ourselves should be purposeful, even if we lack resources. When I was living in an apartment that cost $300/month (I’m not that old - the apartment was just that bad), I had two pairs of jeans that I rotated with solid shirts, and when I had a job that demanded a uniform, I appreciated it. I hated walking to the laundromat more than I had to.
I have more choices now, perhaps too many. But I’ve decided that I will soon journey to Italy in monochrome. I believe this to be sleek, but more, I want simplicity and to reflect a sort of blank slate.
I will bring a notebook and focus on my students, not my appearance, and in so doing, I am sure assumptions will still be made. But hope to soak in the culture and simply be. You might find me in all black or all brown or shades of green and taupe — not because I’m trying to blend but, rather, to observe and learn. This is my vibe right now. It might change.
What is your current modus operandi for getting dressed in the morning? What assumptions do you make based on the way others dress or present themselves, especially those who identify as creative?
AYTL prompt: We often hear about spring cleaning, but there is a similar opportunity in the fall as climates shift (even slightly for some). Take this equinox time as an invitation to explore your choice of dress and adornment. What’s missing? What’s overdone? What’s with meaning, and what has emerged as a mindless pattern? If you fancy doing so, mix things up a little. The artist is, after all, a reflection of her art.
Writing prompt: Write about a fashion norm violated.
September 19, 2024
On desire & week 18 of 52
Photo by Tim MossholderWhat do you desire right now? Is it personal? Professional? Romantic?
Grappling with one’s desires seems to be a foundation of many religions and spiritual practices. Discipline and personal responsibility help us dodge corruption or destructive temptations. But while personal responsibility is important, denying our desires is boring and unreasonable.
Since desire is a part of the human condition, let’s look at it from multiple angles. We don’t only desire consumption or power or sex. Desire can make us want to love others, do good in the world, develop our minds, and connect in a way that goes beyond mere physicality.
It’s a TRICKY emotion. We could probably turn it over in our hands, holding it up to the light to see desire in a thousand ways, but let’s begin with five.
Desire can be a catalyst when the feeling is detached from expectation and met with patience.
If you tell me that you desire a fig. I answer you that there must be time. Let it first blossom, then bear fruit, then ripen. —Epictetus
To treat desire as though it were avoidable or suppressible is to deny the human condition and set ourselves up for failure. There is a famous marshmallow study in which children’s willpower around sweets is linked directly to their quality of life and academic success later in life. But this study is controversial and followed by another study that suggests we can use up our willpower in one aspect of our lives, only to sacrifice another.
Human behavior flows from three main sources: desire, emotion, and knowledge. —Plato
We might not even know what we want.
There is an invisible strength within us; when it recognizes two opposing objects of desire, it grows stronger. —Rumi
Our desires might cloud our ability to see the beauty that lies within our current existence.
“Oh, how I wish I were tall enough to go on the sea,” said the fir-tree. —Hans Christian Andersen
Sometimes we don’t know what we want, or we want what we don’t fully understand.
“Sometimes the most dangerous thing of all in matters of love was to be granted your heart’s desire.” —Alice Hoffman
Philosophers break desire into intrinsic or extrinsic/instrumental desire, meaning we have desires motivated by a larger life goal or by seeing what/who we want as a means to an end.
Either way, even the best intentions can only carry us so far. Desire often leads us toward the unexpected. Consider the unexpected, the lack of guarantee, for a moment.
It might be a strong enough argument to see the value of exploring what we want right now, and making that exploration of our desires a practice. True compassion means not judging, and this is what I’m suggesting here. It is a very healthy self-study to question our desires and ask if they’re even really ours. Do we simply want something because we think we should? Because we’ve been conditioned to react in a certain way?
I am writing about my personal and professional desires—exploring how they line up with reality and where their abstract nature taunts my rational mind. It’s an oddly beautiful process because the path turns in unexpected ways. I invite you to do the same.
AYTL/writing prompt: What do you most desire right now? Is it intrinsic or a desire for things to go well, so you can feel […]? How does that desire feed you or feed on you? What does it suggest about your self concept now?
Creative prompt: Write about a desire realized, despite all odds, and its outcome (good, bad, or in-between).
September 11, 2024
On creative devotion & week 17 of 52
I was once told that devotion is more important than focus or goal setting because devotion is something we can practice every day—through the highs and lows.
Creative devotion (which I previously broached with my post on “creative confidence”) mirrors our beliefs and subsequent actions. This topic is imperative for writers, myself included, who have discouraging days.
My personal discouragement story goes like this: A VERY credible and successful literary agent said she “loved” my essay collection and found it “special” but worried she couldn’t sell it because at least 1 of the “Big 5” publishers required a minimum of 100,000 followers across social media platforms for creative nonfiction projects.
I have about 10,000 connections online, and most of my followers are on Insight Timer and Aura, so I’m nowhere near that. To emphasize how much she wanted to work with me (?) and maybe make me feel better, this agent suggested I set the goal of getting to 50,000 followers, and she’d help me with the rest.
I know me, and I know this will never be a goal of mine. If I reach 50,000 followers in my lifetime, it will be because the book came first or it just happens.
Discouragement comes in myriad forms. It’s not just being told that you need a prefab audience. Some writers take hits because we feel we should be creating more, others wonder if writing even matters in a time of automation and acceptable plagiarism. Still other writers and artists believe they don’t have time to create and release what they take in.
"On the one side were techno-optimists who foresaw a utopian future. AI would eliminate workplace drudgery, diagnose diseases more effectively than doctors could, and save humanity from one of its most loathed burdens: paying writers for anything, ever." —Brian Phillips
Whatever the source of our discouragement, we must believe in ourselves and our messages to practice creative devotion. When we start putting pressure on ourselves (or feel external pressure) to meet unrealistic timelines or compete with others (or hit x # of followers), it seems the work responds with rebellion.
“As any classically trained singer or actor can tell you, trying to make your voice sound like someone else’s can do all manner of damage to it.”
—Lauren Elkin
So here we are.
Individually, we can’t change larger trends or industry standards, and many don’t have the luxury to create more time, but we can change our mindset about the whole deal. Easy to say, I know. But this is why fostering creative devotion is the order of the day.
We should all acknowledge that we live in a time that pressurizes artists and tries to diminish contributions by replicating them en masse. Got it, got it! but! Here’s my message to counter such perspectives. If you hit a wall, try these reframes:
The lack of creative intellectual property (IP) or the prevalence of AI can force us to adopt the “write for myself” mindset.
Lack of time might add momentum if it is not forced.
Thinking we should be creating more might mean we believe we have more to give.
There is only one of us, and the only true way of wasting time is by trying to be like someone else.
And if the reframes aren’t enough for you, here’s a firm pep talk I used in my confidence post.
Stop wasting time trying to become what and who you already are.You are where you need to be. You are creating what you are supposed to be creating, and you are creating it at the perfect pace and in a way that will allow the result to find its ideal timeline and audience—be that small or large, be that what you think will meet your current expectations or not. Despite what you sometimes think, you are on the right track, and it matters, and it matters in the way it should. Share your messages in the way you are sharing them, not from a place of pressure or guilt or fear or competition or even urgency. Share what you are called to share and nothing more.
Again, stop wasting time trying to become what and who you already are.This is a bit of self-talk, but I thought I’d share it here with the intuition that it might resonate with a few of you. Yes, our voices matter, but perhaps the more important message is that we will say exactly what we need to say and release what we observe in our own time. We must remember not to get in our own way or psyche ourselves out.
AYTL prompt: In the week ahead, wherever and whenever you feel small or marginalized, or left out, meet that feeling by doubling down on your devotion. Reminding yourself that it’s not about setting goals and hitting metrics (the needle always moves) but devoting today to what matters.
On creative devotion & Week 17 of 52
after my confidence took a hit, I revisited some thoughts and decided to think about creative momentum in a new way.
I was once told that devotion is more important than focus or goal setting because devotion is something we can practice every day—good or bad. Creative devotion (which I previously broached with my post on “creative confidence”) mirrors our beliefs and subsequent actions. This topic is imperative for writers, myself included at times, who have bad or discouraging days.
My recent discouragement story goes like this: A VERY credible and successful literary agent said she “loved” my essay collection and found it “special” but worried she couldn’t sell it because at least 1 of the “Big 5” publishers required a minimum of 100,000 followers across social media platforms for creative nonfiction projects.
I have about 10,000 connections online, and most of my followers are on Insight Timer and Aura, so I’m nowhere near that. To emphasize how much she wanted to work with me (?) and maybe make me feel better, said agent suggested I set the goal of getting to 50,000 followers, and she’d help me with the rest.
I know me. If I reach 50,000 followers in my lifetime, it will be because the book came first. So my discouragement remains.
Discouragement comes in myriad forms. Some of us feel we should be creating more, others wonder if writing even matters in a time of automation and acceptable plagiarism. Others believe they don’t have time to create and release what they take in of the world.
"On the one side were techno-optimists who foresaw a utopian future. AI would eliminate workplace drudgery, diagnose diseases more effectively than doctors could, and save humanity from one of its most loathed burdens: paying writers for anything, ever." —Brian Phillips
Whatever the source of our discouragement, we must believe in ourselves and our messages to practice devotion. When we start putting pressure on ourselves (or feel external pressure) to meet unrealistic timelines or compete with others (or hit x # of followers), it seems the work responds with rebellion.
“As any classically trained singer or actor can tell you, trying to make your voice sound like someone else’s can do all manner of damage to it.”
—Lauren Elkin
So here we are.
Individually, we can’t change larger trends or industry standards, and many don’t have the luxury to create more time, but we can change our mindset about the whole deal. Easy to say, I know. But this is why fostering creative devotion is the order of the day.
We should all acknowledge that we live in a time that pressurizes artists and tries to diminish contributions by replicating them en masse. Got it, got it! but! Here’s my message to counter such perspectives. If you hit a wall, try these reframes:
The lack of creative intellectual property (IP) or the prevalence of AI can force us to adopt the “write for myself” mindset.
Lack of time might add momentum if it is not forced.
Thinking we should be creating more might mean we believe we have more to give.
There is only one of us, and the only true way of wasting time is by trying to be like someone else.
And if the reframes aren’t enough for you, here’s a little firm pep talk I used in my confidence post.
Stop wasting time trying to become what and who you already are.You are where you need to be. You are creating what you are supposed to be creating, and you are creating it at the perfect pace and in a way that will allow the result to find its ideal timeline and audience—be that small or large, be that what you think will meet your current expectations or not. Despite what you sometimes think, you are on the right track, and it matters, and it matters in the way it should. Share your messages in the way you are sharing them, not from a place of pressure or guilt or fear or competition or even urgency. Share what you are called to share and nothing more.
Again, stop wasting time trying to become what and who you already are.This is a bit of self-talk, but I thought I’d share it here with the intuition that it might resonate with a few of you. Yes, our voices matter, but perhaps the more important message is that we will say exactly what we need to say and release what we observe in our own time. We must remember not to get in our own way or psyche ourselves out.
AYTL prompt: In the week ahead, wherever and whenever you feel small or marginalized, or left out, meet that feeling by doubling down on your devotion. Reminding yourself that it’s not about setting goals and hitting metrics (the needle always moves) but devoting today to what matters.
September 4, 2024
On how you might change if . . . week 16 of 52
Is there a memory that keeps reminding you of your past? That same one, attached to a story, that arrives more often and urgently than others? This could be the come-up story, the war story, the story of regret or remorse.
It could be a story about how introverted and smart you are or how you could never learn to dance because you’re too uncoordinated. It could be about how childhood bullying led you to find solace in books.
At one time, I was attached to a story of comparative lack. As a child, I told myself that big things could happen, but I’d have to create them in my mind. In the physical world, they were probably going to stay somewhat less-than-adequate.
This wasn’t depression exactly because I was always able to find beauty in life and ideas. But it was a story that served more world-weary thoughts than any notion of hope or belief in others and bettering my conditions.
Slowly, I saw that others had found fulfillment despite adversity, so I dove into human stories. In literature but also life. Memoirs and documentaries were always my favorite. Even without meeting the people, I’d learn about (at the time, athletes like Gail Devers and Steffi Graf were heroes), I could see how others had dedicated themselves to the seemingly impossible, often despite the odds.
These were not people I knew personally. They were not in my neighborhood. But they were models of action. They helped me redefine my story and think of it more as a journey than a consequence. Likewise, they taught me to abandon thoughts of limit and grandiosity alike. What made them compelling was the journey.
I was given a prompt recently by a mentor and teacher, : Write about a person who is self-defined by a story, and then explore what would happen if they forgot that story, good or bad.
AYTL: What a brilliant prompt, no? Thank you, Scott. And what an interesting question for ourselves. If you could forget any notion of needing to have x, y, or z or wishing a, b, or c would’ve happened instead, how would that change who you are? Would it be for the better or worse?
August 27, 2024
On rhythm and writing and rhythm and life & week 15 of 52
Averages:
Our hearts beat 60-100 beats per minute
We take around 12-18 breaths per minute
We sleep an average of 7 hours a night
Adults type around 40 words per minute
Our brains process around 70,000 thoughts each day (Cleveland Clinic)
4/4 time is the most common beat in popular songs
Rhythms dominate our lives, and when we feel out of sync, it’s usually because an expected rhythm is disrupted. Or we can’t fully access it.
In my early twenties, I loved Hunter S. Thompson’s writing because he could discuss everything from the absurdity of politics to the inner workings of a motorcycle gang with a cadence that kept me poised to read more. I didn’t realize it then, but it was less about what he was saying and more about the rhythm of his prose.
Thompson’s writing was easy for me, a person who has always been a slow reader for a few reasons. It wasn’t an “easy read” in the classical sense of simplicity and predictability, but his writing had a cadence that was easy to follow; this rhythm supported my ability to feel and focus. So many of my favorite writers do this: Rachel Kushner, Barbara Kingsolver, Louise Erdrich, Edwidge Danticat, Toni Morrison, and Vladimir Nabokov—to name a few.
Poets probably know a lot more about rhythm than I do.
Yes, I’ve written a poem or two, but I can’t claim the poet’s expertise. I can speak to the prose authors whose rhythmic writing grips me, and I believe they do this the same way a song does.
In rhythmic prose, there is a flow, a tell, a freedom, then a hook. There is a give-and-take that is purely language and feeling-based and not reliant so much on what is happening in the storytelling.
Much like a charismatic speaker, well-versed in the art of rhetoric, can make people feel so much that they forget the meaning behind their words, a writer can use rhythm to seduce a reader into other worlds or scenes or ideas in a way that no clever plot could touch. Maybe this is my bias, but it could be what people mean when they use the term “literary.”
I wanted to share this because while I read for many reasons: insight, small moments of immersion, getting lost in another world … it is getting lost in ideas and stories with a deliberate and delicate placement of words that allows me to dance with words. Images and marks on the page become feelings.
I innately revise for rhythm. Sometimes it comes out naturally, sometimes I feel it lacking when I read something aloud.
In light of the AYTL experiment, I was thinking about rhythm and where it is evident and missing in my life. Routine can be rhythm; we can hear it in birdsong or the clicking and buzzy call of cicadas. The low rumble of nearby toads or the traffic you hear each morning from your front porch.
Rhythm brings comfort, it resides within. We have a heart rate, sleep cycle, and brain waves measured in hertz and patterned based on experiences and repetition. We find comfort in watching rhythms, which is why we are tasked to return to our breath in mindfulness practices and meditation. The breath and the heartbeat are our natural rhythms.
It can be comforting when we pay just a little bit of attention.
While I think our lives have greater rhythms, such as the yearly celebrations or seasonal mood shifts, the immediate rhythms can be more accessible. And when we entertain the idea of living with more awareness of the rhythms in our lives, we can find a lot of new realizations.
Prompt: Rhythm is often where meditation or mindfulness begins because rhythms give us something to return to. Write about a single day, and focus on the sounds and rhythms in the scene.
AYTL prompt: Observe the rhythms of the day.
If you enjoy this blog, please let me know by subscribing, responding below, or sharing what you create. In gratitude, Jen
August 14, 2024
On living in the wilds & week 13 of 52
“What did the tree learn from the earth to be able to talk with the sky?” -Pablo Neruda
I usually walk my dogs at 4:30 a.m., before most lifeforms have stirred. But Sunday, I woke up “late,” at 6:30, and when we walked, everything was up—deer, bunnies, cats … it was intense.
I live in a mostly blue-collar suburban neighborhood near a beautiful little park, and I see the neighborhood wildlife more often than my retired or always-working neighbors. It’s a lovely place for a person who can easily get lost in thought and story, and it’s a reprieve from my busy job on campus.
During my walk, I looked up at a chittering squirrel, and he peeked his head out at me and made a “cheep” sound. He ran behind the trunk, peeked out from the other side (only his head), and said, “Cheep!” a little more insistently. This continued for a while.
Now, chances were, this was his version of “Get off my lawn!” but I found it adorable.
For all its oddity and competitiveness, nature always feels like a peaceful place to land, a part of a larger pattern. Even when I’m watching a murder of crows scream at a hawk (likely for eating its baby like an omelet, but I never know the full story), something is awe-inspiring about nature’s rhythms and wisdom.
The writer’s task is to see people this way. We are wise, rhythmic, and awe-inspiring, too, right? Or are we?
In the last week, I wrote a multi-part case study on leadership. I want it to be The Great Gatsby of case studies. Unfortunately, Maxwell Perkins is not awaiting my draft, but I’m learning from the process nonetheless.
To write a complex case study, which students will use to explore concepts and hopefully learn some new way of thinking critically about the human condition through the lens of leadership, is not to write fine literature. This is not a literature class so I can only sneak in so much nuance, backstory, and philosophical meandering.
A case study is a choose-your-own-adventure story based on a real or more-real-than-real scenario in which students add personal experience and (hopefully) make quick assertions that they’ll later (if everything goes right) question. But what I’ve learned in the process is the art of exploring everyday scenes we truly live—humans in the wilds of life. No frills or romanticism. Just the choice points, and how awe-inspiring they can be.
To think about all the ordinary choices we make and questions we grapple with in our real lives can seem inconsequential, but they never are. Why not reframe these scenes and search for the awe-inspiring? Write our everyday (ordinary, boring, real-world stuff) and see within the seemingly mundane our part in the pattern—in the wilds of life.
AYTL/Writing prompt:
a.) Write a journey story using whatever happens this week (à la journaling), allowing space for the smallest inconvenience to act as our adversary.
b.) Pick an everyday scene you captured and rewrite this scene in the third person, as the one looking in with pure awe.
If you enjoy this blog, please let me know by subscribing, responding below, or sharing what you create with attribution. In gratitude, Jen
On living in the wilds & Week 13 of 52
“What did the tree learn from the earth to be able to talk with the sky?” -Pablo Neruda
I usually walk my dogs at 4:30 a.m., before most lifeforms have stirred. But Sunday, I woke up “late,” at 6:30, and when we walked, everything was up—deer, bunnies, cats … it was intense.
I live in a mostly blue-collar suburban neighborhood near a beautiful little park, and I see the neighborhood wildlife more often than my retired or always-working neighbors. It’s a lovely place for a person who can easily get lost in thought and story, and it’s a reprieve from my busy job on campus.
During my walk, I looked up at a chittering squirrel, and he peeked his head out at me and made a “cheep” sound. He ran behind the trunk, peeked out from the other side (only his head), and said, “Cheep!” a little more insistently. This continued for a while.
Now, chances were, this was his version of “Get off my lawn!” but I found it adorable.
For all its oddity and competitiveness, nature always feels like a peaceful place to land, a part of a larger pattern. Even when I’m watching a murder of crows scream at a hawk (likely for eating its baby like an omelet, but I never know the full story), something is awe-inspiring about nature’s rhythms and wisdom.
The writer’s task is to see people this way. We are wise, rhythmic, and awe-inspiring, too, right? Or are we?
In the last week, I wrote a multi-part case study on leadership. I want it to be The Great Gatsby of case studies. Unfortunately, Maxwell Perkins is not awaiting my draft, but I’m learning from the process nonetheless.
To write a complex case study, which students will use to explore concepts and hopefully learn some new way of thinking critically about the human condition through the lens of leadership, is not to write fine literature. This is not a literature class so I can only sneak in so much nuance, backstory, and philosophical meandering.
A case study is a choose-your-own-adventure story based on a real or more-real-than-real scenario in which students add personal experience and (hopefully) make quick assertions that they’ll later (if everything goes right) question. But what I’ve learned in the process is the art of exploring everyday scenes we truly live—humans in the wilds of life. No frills or romanticism. Just the choice points, and how awe-inspiring they can be.
To think about all the ordinary choices we make and questions we grapple with in our real lives can seem inconsequential, but they never are. Why not reframe these scenes and search for the awe-inspiring? Write our everyday (ordinary, boring, real-world stuff) and see within the seemingly mundane our part in the pattern—in the wilds of life.
AYTL/Writing prompt:
a.) Write a journey story using whatever happens this week (à la journaling), allowing space for the smallest inconvenience to act as our adversary.
b.) Pick an everyday scene you captured and rewrite this scene in the third person, as the one looking in with pure awe.
August 8, 2024
On expertise and execution & week 12 of 52
One of my favorite essays is not an essay at all. If you are a writer who has had more than three or so conversations with me, I’ve probably recommended it to you. The essay was written by one of my favorite teachers, Phillip Lopate, and is positioned as the introduction of his compilation, titled The Art of the Personal Essay. Deep inside the essay, he says this:
“[Personal essayists] follow the clue of their ignorance through the maze. Intrigued with their limitations, both physical and mental, they are attracted to cul-de-sac: what one doesn’t understand, or can’t do, is as good a place as any to start investigating the borders of the self."
Writers and artists are tasked to explore the world. This is something I understood long before I knew anything about the craft or how to write things that anyone would want to read.
It was intuitive because it reflected what I loved as a reader. The exploratory and somewhat humble voice is a necessary ingredient in the writing I love versus the writing I have no time for because wonder creates space for an author’s willingness to go on a journey with me. I don’t want to be led and lectured to, I want to be along for the ride. I want to feel the revelations in real-time.
I’m not exactly anti-expertise. Yes, I’ll go to a specialist for medical care. I’ll fact-check sources and look for due diligence in research. I appreciate expertise, but expertise, like everything else about this human experience, is fleeting. I’m not only wary of relying too heavily on expertise but I’m also bored by it.
Students become teachers for good reason. We humans are always in flux, always exposed to new perspectives, and we are always benefitting from the humility necessary to learn new things and listen to others, even those without credentials.
“In the beginner's mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert's there are few.” —Shunryo Suzuki
To be quiet or agreeable is not necessarily to be humble. True humility—in writing, art, and life—is no easy feat. We get charges of confidence then drained by a lack of reception. We feel included or excluded based on what we know, say, or do.
But we carry on, and this brings me to our weekly exercise.If you enjoy Here We Are, consider subscribing or sharing this post or the full challenge here.
Writing/AYTL exercise: Challenge the boredom of expertise by choosing something you know a lot about (e.g., birding, politics, state history) and write about it from a place of discovery, rather than expertise. Assert nothing, explore everything. In life this week, do the same. Approach a topic you take for granted from a place of radical humility — find something new.
psssst - supporters, there’s a new story here. Thank you, thank you!
August 7, 2024
The Slope of a Line
Photo by Anne Nygård THE SLOPE OF A LINE© Jen Knox
So many mistakes. The heaviest of them rests on Rattle’s thighs and flattens its palms against his shoulders. He hears the rush on the freeway nearby and remembers raging down 315 at criminal speeds. He was sinewy and strong then, steering the straight line.
