Almostgotit.com

If you can’t raise consciousness, at least raise hell. – Rita Mae Brown

Do what you feel in your heart to be right – for you’ll be criticized anyway. You’ll be damned if you do, and damned if you don’t. – Eleanor Roosevelt

Courage is the art of being the only one who knows you’re scared to death. – Harold Wilson

The moment we begin to fear the opinions of others and hesitate to tell the truth that is in us, and from motives of policy are silent when we should speak, the divine floods of light and life no longer flow into our souls. – Elizabeth Cady Stanton

Patterning your life around other’s opinions is nothing more than slavery. – Lawana Blackwell

Feel the fear and do it anyway. – Susan Jeffers

I myself have never been able to figure out precisely what feminism is: I only know that people call me a feminist whenever I express sentiments that differentiate me from a doormat. — Rebecca West (in 1913 )

Many years ago, a very tall man and I went on our first date.  After watching East of Eden in the campus auditorium, we went back to my dorm room, made popcorn, and talked. 

One of the things my new friend mentioned was an article he’d just read in the Atlantic Monthly called “The Size of Thoughts,” by Nicholson Baker.  It begins like this:

Each thought has a size, and most are about three feet tall, with the level of complexity of a lawnmower engine, or a cigarette lighter, or those tubes of toothpaste that, by mingling several hidden pastes and gels, create a pleasantly striped product. Once in a while, a thought may come up that seems, in its woolly, ranked composure, roughly the size of one’s hall closet. But a really large thought, a thought in the presence of which whole urban centers would rise to their feet, and cry out with expressions of gratefulness and kinship; a thought with grandeur, and drenching, barrel-scorning cataracts, and detonations of fist-clenched hope, and hundreds of cellos; a thought that can tear phone books in half, and rap on the iron nodes of experience until every blue girder rings; a thought that may one day pack everything noble and good into its briefcase, elbow past the curators of purposelessness, travel overnight toward Truth, and shake it by the indifferent marble shoulders until it finally whispers its cool assent—this is the size of thought worth thinking about.

Really large thoughts.  That’s what we talked about, and then he went home, and I couldn’t get to sleep that night because something huge had just happened, I could tell. 

Two years later, I married him.

A few years after that, with our children, I had cause to revisit an old friend, the illustrious Dr. Seuss.  Who wrote, of course  “Think left and think right and think low and think high. Oh, the thinks you can think up if only you try!”

Sometimes, I channel Seuss, like this:

Maybe it matters, though,
Matters a lot.
Whether we don’t, or we do
have a thought.
It might make you rich -
But then it might not.
It might make no difference
or might make a lot.
It might be the kind
that gets in the way,
but it also might lead to
your future, that day.
            * * *

Mr. Baker makes the best point of all about the importance of thoughts, though, so my final words must be his:

Would it be possible to list those features that, taken together, confer upon a thought a lofty magnificence? What makes them so very large? My idle corollary hope is that perhaps a systematic and rigorous codification, on the model of Hammurabi’s or Napoleon’s, might make large thoughts available cheap, and in bulk, to the general public, thereby salvaging the 19th-century dream of a liberal democracy.

——-

Related Posts:
In defense of thoughts (part 1)
To have as many thoughts as possible (part 2)
The size of thoughts (part 3)

Maybe Jim Fannin is just being hyperbolic when he suggests that switching our brains to “off” is the only way we can succeed (”wildly”) at business.

If so, then I suppose the next thing to do is to decide how damaging “thought” really is, not just to those trying to start their own businesses, but to the rest of us (almost) working stiffs, as well. 

Of course it is bad to obsess over non-essentials; cogitate over unchangable things in our past; or worry about things over which we have no control.

But is “thought” itself really such a barrier to action, 99.99% of the time, as Fannin suggests?  After all, in the previous century, Sigmund Freud wrote that “thought is action in rehearsal.” And a few hundred years before Freud was born, Philippus Aureolus Paracelsus  opined that “thoughts create a new heaven, a new firmament, a new source of energy, from which new arts flow.”    Mr. Paracelsus was considered inflammatory in his own time, too.  He tended to reject the traditional theories of his learned colleagues, and preferred to write in everyday German instead of in snooty Latin like the rest of them.   

I like this guy.

Annie Besant, the 19th century  women’s rights activist,  writer and orator believed “thought creates character.”  Her priest told her that she had read too many books.  And suggested she shut up.

Fortunately, she ignored him. 

A few years later, James Allen wrote the classic self-help book, As a Man Thinketh, which you can download here for free.  Allen believed that “right thoughts and right efforts will inevitably bring about right results,” and  “you are today where your thoughts have brought you; you will be tomorrow where your thoughts take you.”  

Some credit James Allen’s book with making many other men into millionaires.

Henry Ford said that “thinking is the hardest work there is, which is the probable reason so few engage in it,” and Henry Ford didn’t do half badly at either starting a business or making a living, did he? 

Therefore, I submit that going on a “thought diet” is not the best way to assure a succesful career.  But even if it is the best way, I’m not going to do it. 

It was another old dead guy, Montaigne, who wrote: “The pleasantest things in the world are pleasant thoughts: and the great art of life is to have as many of them as possible.”

————
Related Posts:
In defense of thoughts (part 1)
To have as many thoughts as possible (part 2)
The size of thoughts (part 3)

For days now, I’ve been reflecting on something that appeared in one of Penelope Trunk’s recent columns. 

It seems that Trunk spoke to success coach Jim Fannin, who told her “that research has shown that wildly successful people have 1,000 fewer thoughts a day than others, which allows the successful people to have exceptional focus on their goals.”

Well now.  That certainly provides some real food for… well, something in which I’ve been overindulging, apparently.  But I can’t help myself.  You see:  I really LIKE having thoughts.

I was relieved to find out I’m not the only career-minded person who has this strange proclivity.  Maureen Rogers  wrote, in her own marvelous comment at the end of Trunk’s column:

I’m with AlmostGotIt. I LIKE having thoughts, too. After thinking about it, I’ve come to the realization that those of us who are introspective; who really, truly, like to think about things; who are highly analytical are probably just not all that cut out to be risk-taking entrepreneurs. To succeed in an entrepreneurial endeavor, you need to have supreme conviction – and thinkers tend to spend perhaps too much time evaluating risk, playing “what-if”, etc.. A better job for us: chief of staff, advisor to the throne, internal consultant….

“Advisor to the throne.”  I definitely pick that one.   (You know: for now, I mean.)

But perhaps the problem here is that I don’t have the right qualifications to have thoughts.  This possibility has been brought up before. 

At The Institution Which Shall Not Be Named (to pick an example at wild random) there is only a very small allotment allowed for thinkers, and these slots are all taken by highly-trained Thinkologists.   Many of those who have gone through the entire formation process of Thinkology are surprisingly intelligent, diversity-promoting, even iconoclastic thinkers.  However, their thoughts still must be chosen from the approved intelligent,-diversity-promoting,-even-iconoclastic LIST.

Which, needless to say, is entirely unavailable to inflammatory non-thinkologists such as myself.

I decided that Jim Fannin might be onto something.

So I visited his website.  I was glad to find that he has an online quiz,  which of course I took immediately to see if I “[Don’t] Think Like A Champion.”   Here is what I found out:

The results indicate your S.C.O.R.E. Level is dangerously low. You are not in the game. If this score persists either change your goal or approach it in a completely different way. You are on the wrong path.

Wow, this is bad. 

Fortunately, Fannin has a number of products which could help put me back IN the game. Unfortunately, unlike many of his other clients, I don’t have a professional baseballer’s salary to pay for any of them.

But perhaps I can offer him some small repayment-in-kind, at least.  Bob Sutton, a professor at the prestigious Harvard Business School, has developed another little online quiz which, I humbly submit, may be just the thing.

——-

Related Posts:
In defense of thoughts (part 1)
To have as many thoughts as possible (part 2)
The size of thoughts (part 3)

One of the fun things about blogging is finding all of the other people who are blogging about similar things, and commenting on what they write.  Sometimes they’ll then click through to your blog and do the same thing, and voila:  yet another kind of networking.  Good networking is the best way to get a job, by the way.  And we are always networking, whether or not we are doing it well or even consciously.  Relationships are everything. 

Let me say that again.  Relationships are everything. 

So, yesterday?  I commented on one of my favorites, the Career Encouragement Blog (it’s one of two I feature in the column at right) on the topic of informational interviews and how they relate to networking in general.  Which resulted, today, in a whole post based on my comment. 

Wow, which is all so meta! 

Everyone knows that the majority of eco-conscious college students become just as evil as the rest of us, once they can afford it.

But who are we to criticize those vain, skinny creatures?  Why not make a virtue out of deprivation?   Those of us who somehow managed to miss that immediate-post-collegiate flush of wealth still have just as much right to feel good about ourselves as college students do.  Or as Bill Gates does, and he really didn’t even GO to college, did he? 

Therefore, in honor of Earth Day, here are a number of ways in which we, too, can save the planet while incidentally saving money at the same time.  Start small by choosing just one or two; five or six if you feel inspired.  And really, who even NEEDS a job when you already can contribute this much meaning and goodness to the world? 

The e-zine writers at  LighterFootsteps.com   suggest that we make the switch to Compact Fluorescent Lightbulbs (CFLs); monitor our thermostats; clean or replace our air conditioning filters; unplug idle appliances and electronic devices; buy low-flow shower heads with a shutoff valve; drive smarter; get an annual tune-up for our cars; use our bikes; go meatless once a week; buy local; buy in season.

Here are some other stunningly-cheap virtuous ways to save the earth:

1. Give something away
2. Recycle, including batteries and toner cartridges
3. Get more sleep
4. Grow less grass (saves water, mowing, and habitat too!)
5. Make your own stuff
6. Develop a flea market habit
7. Downsize
8. Eat less
9. Use a real cup instead of a styrofoam one.
10. Compost

And finally, my favorite: 

11.  Get a woodstove that’s big enough to heat your house,  and ask all your tree-cutting friends to bring you free firewood instead of taking it to the dump!

A few weeks ago the Washington Post convinced Joshua Bell, one of the world’s greatest violinists, to play unannounced in a Washington subway station. Bell played for nearly an hour on his $3.5 million Stradivarius. More than a thousand people passed him by, with only one man stopping to listen — for three minutes, total.  Interestingly, every single child who passed DID try to stop, but in every case was hurried along by a harried and embarrassed adult. 

Altogether, a little over thirty-two dollars was dropped into the violin case of one of the world’s greatest musicians. 

(Thanks for sharing, Chris!)

Well…It took almost exactly a year, but guess who is now officially billable at approximately 9 (That’s N-I-N-E) times her previous hourly wage as paid by The Institution Which Shall Not Be Named? And guess who is also a little horrified, given all the existential stuff that’s been going on around my house lately, by how much it even MATTERS?  (But. You know what? It DOES.)

I may even forgive my previous employer for dismantling half my portfolio (by taking down the website I’d built for them, one which was getting national attention – the whole unpleasant email discussion about which was then forwarded to me by the webmaster) (A few days before I found out I’d also not been invited to my own retirement party.) (On my birthday.)  (Just as the professional theatre I’d applied to was finally rejecting me after several sets of interviews.) (And not long after someone, who should have known better,  helpfully told me that my previous employer and board all found me “inflammatory”)

(Oh, my God, the woe…..) 

It’s still hardly any hours.  It’s still not a salary.  It may not be what I want to do with the rest of my life.  

But I will so definitely TAKE IT!  Here, have a cigar.  And guess what?  You’re next!

(and, um, that “inflammatory” thing? That’s just me, with my lighter.  And the fattest cigar you’ve ever seen.  Flaming.)

At the garden store yesterday, while concentrating deeply on which kind of bush bean seeds to buy, I heard my name.  When I looked up, I saw a familiar woman but couldn’t place her.  But we hadn’t been meeting regularly in garden stores, clearly. 

“I thought that was you, but wasn’t sure!” she said, warmly.  I covered well, knowing it would come to me eventually. 

“Well, Hi! How are you?“  I said.  I knew I’d get it in a few more seconds.  Church?  Nope.  Wow, a real puzzler.

We exchanged a couple more pleasant words before it came:  she was the head of the search committee that had most recently rejected me, duh.  This is the one where I crashed the computer during a timed writing test at the first interview, but was called back for a second one, anyway.  This is the one where the head of the division said she’d be calling me back first thing Monday morning after my second interview, which seemed pretty unambiguous as that would have allowed no time for negotiating with any other candidate.  And then I heard nothing further, until I called THEM two weeks later.

And this was also the one I’d decided would be my last shot, ever, at the Institution Which Shall Not Be Named.  Because any more of these stupid things were going to kill me.

This was the woman who had to step in, after her boss’s gaffe, and tell me they’d hired someone else. “I want you to know,” she said, leaning towards me and holding her hand in front of her, with her thumb and finger nearly pinched together in the sign for “very small.”  I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear this.  She looked very earnest, all of a sudden.  “it was really, really close.”

Okay. What do you do with that? This wasn’t exactly news:  the two interviews, the boss’s comment, and the two silent weeks that then followed had already kind of clued me in.  The more salient point here, at least from my point of view, is that I didn’t get the job.  Again.

Maybe she was hinting that I’d been her own personal favorite?  Maybe she’s suffering debilitating guilt because she’d had to do the axe work this time around? But in the end, it comes down to this.  The woman didn’t have to speak to me.  Literally: I never would have noticed her for beans if she hadn’t. 

I remembered my final email to her, too, in response to her own, when I said they were better off without me anyway since they’d solemnly asked me about my abilities to work with “upper-level people.” That’s because (I wrote) although I’m certainly now entitled to wear a tiara when accompanying my high-level (he’s 6’5”!) administrator husband at the same institution,  I’d be more likely to wear my pirate hat instead.  Because I’m just that kind of person. 

Which points out two things, I guess:  one is the longer story I’ve definitely not blogged about and don’t know if I ever will.  The other is that this woman had a much better sense of humor (or, at least, forbearance) than I’d ever suspected. 

And besides: she was buying mulch, which just says a lot of redeeming things about a person right there, doesn’t it?
 

You clouds!

Remember to thank the air

For holding you up.