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Finance Friday – July 22, 2016

Posted on 07-22-16

Forget about what you’ll do today. What will you learn?

Notable posts

Here Comes the Sun
WISDOM FROM THE HIVE SERIES – #1
Honeybee Capital Belief Statement #1: “And” is better than “Or”
Read. Sleep. Evolve. Travel. Be Kind. Keep Going. Lessons from Byron Wien
New Year’s Flip

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Friends, if we find ourselves sitting at home in t

Friends, if we find ourselves sitting at home in the pouring rain, tempted to scroll through social media instead of accepting a one in a million invitation that involves the tiniest inconvenience of a few miles’ drive in exchange for a heart-opening, attitude-adjusting, hope-generating concert featuring three of the most talented, generous artists alive, plus a stunning double rainbow bonus as the clouds part for the sunset….

Dear ones, let us not hesitate.

Let us not scroll.

Let us accept the gifts we are offered.

With whole-hearted joy.

The Waking, Theodore Roethke I wake to sleep, and $The Waking, Theodore Roethke I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. I feel my fate in what I cannot fear. I learn by going where I have to go. We think by feeling. What is there to know? I hear my being dance from ear to ear. I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. Of those so close behind me, which are you? God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there, And learn by going where I have to go. Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how? The lonely worm climbs up a winding stair; I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. Great Nature has another thing to do To you and me; so take the lively air; And, lovely, learn by going where to go. This shaking keeps me steady. I should know. What falls away is always. And is near. I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. I learn by going where I have to go. On this day especially, one possible waking is to reflect on all who have nurtured us. Mother’s Day is complicated and painful for many, and at the same time we have all been mothered – by family and friends and teachers and communities and forests and lakes and pets and books and songs and selves. I am one of the very lucky ones who has been supported by all of the above – and most of all, luckiest of all, by my own dear mom, with the most steadfast love I will ever know. If you have ever cared for a person or place or idea with even a tiny fraction of this kind of devotion, thank you. You have made our world a better place.$

JOY IS THE MOSTLY INVISIBLE, THE UNDERGROUND UNION

JOY IS THE MOSTLY INVISIBLE, THE UNDERGROUND UNION BETWEEN US…
– ROSS GAY, THE BOOK OF DELIGHTS

I’ve long been a fan of the idea that we can make our own small joys in life – noticing beautiful moments, finding a pocket of quiet in a noisy space, and occasionally choosing poetry over reality TV. Of course, on some days even small joys are scarce, and all of them stand in contrast and complement to our sorrows… so when we find them, woah, it’s pretty great.

The truth is that all of these joys, in ways big and small, depend on the kindness and efforts of others. This week I cheered the return of Boston’s swan boats in the early morning light, installed by unseen others. I delighted in the sound of a child’s laughter, a child I’ve never even met. I reveled in the crunch of a sugary churro, though I had nothing to do with its creation. I was buoyed by the glow of narcissus in the freezing rain, blooming without any encouragement or acknowledgement from me.

Dear ones, may we be grateful for the trails of joys that others leave for us to discover.

May we offer our own in return.

NOTHING IN LIFE IS AS IMPORTANT AS YOU THINK IT IS

NOTHING IN LIFE IS AS IMPORTANT AS YOU THINK IT IS WHEN YOU ARE THINKING ABOUT IT. – DANIEL KAHNEMAN, THINKING FAST AND SLOW

You have to love a researcher on thinking who makes a big point of noting that the answer to every question is not just, “think harder.” Sometimes, the answer is “chill out,” or “think of something else.” While focus is terrific, we are also all prone to the condition called focusing illusion, as Kahneman described above.

Reading about the quirks and foibles of human thinking often leaves me feeling all muddled and mushy, hopeless and helpless. The brilliance of Kahneman’s work leaves me feeling clearer. Stronger. Luckier.

Thanks to Dr. Kahneman, when I think of my system1lizard brain, the one that is sometimes described as autopilot, it’s not with disdain or dismissal, but with deep affection, even delight. Look at the lengths my mind will go to in order to keep me safe! Look at all I can accomplish without effortful consideration!

Friends, we might not all be Nobel-worthy researchers. But we all have the choice of how to present our ideas. When we learn something, will we insist on the view that is only cynical, critical? Will we find a way to present even the most amazing attributes as somehow lesser, meaner?

Or might we ask a more generous question?

Might we offer a more wholehearted answer, thoughtful and true?

Might we wonder, and study, and reflect,

and revel in what is revealed?

LEAVE THE RAFT UPON THE RIVERBANK. That’s the

LEAVE THE RAFT UPON THE RIVERBANK.

That’s the summation of an oft-cited Buddhist parable, where the story gently reminds us that just because something is useful in one setting, we need not carry it with us forevermore.

Steeped as I am in traditions of honor and loyalty and yes, a little bit of stubbornness, this idea has always been uncomfortable to me. What if I need the raft again? What if there is never another raft to be found? What if the original raft resents me for continuing on to dry land? What if I made the raft with my own two hands? What if the raft was a gift from a beloved teacher?

Friends, there are ideas and relationships and places and endeavors meant for a whole lifetime through, and beyond. And there are also gifts that are meant for a specific moment. It’s wasteful to cling to a summer tomato until the frost. It’s thoughtless to transplant a cactus to the rainforest.

Dear ones, may we appreciate the rafts that keep us afloat.

And when we reach the shore, may we part with gratitude,

and gladness,

and grace.

A few weeks ago, I attended an amazing concert. It

A few weeks ago, I attended an amazing concert. It was thought-provoking, beautiful, and thoroughly enjoyable, and stuck in my mind for days afterward. Walking home that night, I felt dazzled. Challenged.

This weekend, I saw a different show, also amazing. It was joyful, tender, and surprisingly participatory. People who never sing were singing. People who never dance were dancing. Walking home, I felt connected. Happy.

These performances were both generous and both genius, in very different ways. The first left me feeling like I might never see another performance like it. The second left me feeling like I would carry the music within me always.

The first was saying, here is my gift to you. The second was saying, we are the gift.

Dear ones, may we appreciate the art that inspires.

May we treasure the art that elevates.

MAKE NEW FRIENDS, BUT KEEP THE OLD. ONE IS SILVER

MAKE NEW FRIENDS, BUT KEEP THE OLD.
ONE IS SILVER AND THE OTHER GOLD.
– GIRL SCOUT SONG (AND ALSO A POEM FROM JOSEPH PARRY)

Sometimes whole weeks zip by fully in the present, a blur of our current places and people. Then once in a while there is a blissful time of reunion and re-rooting, when the layers of our lives are revealed.

This past week I was able to visit with dear relatives, a mentor from my earliest work days, and friends who have known me for decades.

What a comfort to be with those who have witnessed our wandering and our discovery, our stumbling and our soaring, our sorrow and our joy. Those who can take a scrap of conversation and weave it into the fabric of our lives, understanding in a moment what others could never learn. Those who can be counted on to be in our corner, whether we’re quiet or grumpy or awkward or maybe even a little bit in the wrong.

Friends, let us honor each moment and each new connection.

And let us treasure the ties that run deep, the foundation of everything good and strong and true.

This weekend I happened upon a beach full of seash

This weekend I happened upon a beach full of seashells, heaped in great piles like some sort of salty sunny Aladdin’s cave. The abundance was astonishing, and unsettling. At first I stood dazed and dazzled. Then I started darting from pile to pile, sure that the next one was somehow better than the one I had already visited. Others had similar reactions, stuffing bags full of souvenirs until they were staggering under the weight. A sort of giddy greediness floated in the air.

After a little while, I slowed down enough to appreciate a few individual shells, marveling at the perfect Fibonacci spirals at their hearts and at the way that such strong, gorgeous structures emerge from nothing but calcium carbonate and protein. I picked one favorite. Then another. Then another. Finally I sat still and sighed with the wonder of it all.

Friends, we are surrounded by the abundance of our world.

May our greed give way to gratitude.

May we treasure each tiny element,

and the miracles within.

When I visited Japan last fall, I kept having flas

When I visited Japan last fall, I kept having flashbacks to my 20-year old self, the person I’d been when I first traveled there. Every Proustian taste and every recollected phrase pulled me into a strange parallel universe, where I was simultaneously then and now.

Then I happened upon this passage from Zora Neale Hurston, where Janie is reconnecting with her own self after a long separation.

Years ago, she had told her girl self to wait for her in the looking glass. It had been a long time since she remembered. Perhaps she’d better look… She took careful stock of herself, then combed her hair and tied it back up again. Then she starched and ironed her face, forming it into just what people wanted to see.

Friends, we’ve all left little bits and pieces along the pathways of our lives, breadcrumbs that we might follow to mark the way back to ourselves.

What might we find if we gathered them up,

re-membering as we go?

The time will come

when, with elation,

you will greet yourself arriving

at your own door, in your own mirror

and each will smile at the other’s welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.

You will love again the stranger who was your self.

Give wine. Give bread, Give back your heart

to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored

for another, who knows you by heart.

Take down the love letters from the bookshelf

the photographs, the desperate notes,

peel your own image from the mirror.

Sit. Feast on your life.

– Derek Walcott, Love after Love

Instagram post 17952575666632269

Instagram post 17952575666632269

PUTTING A NAME ON A CLOUD DOESN’T DO ANYTHING TO

PUTTING A NAME ON A CLOUD DOESN’T DO ANYTHING TO IT – IT DOESN’T SEPARATE THE CLOUD FROM THE SKY. – ALAN WATTS

This week at work I noticed so many efforts to name the clouds around us. A analyst struggled to create market estimates for a new technology that is just barely beginning to emerge. There were delays in deployment of a stunningly complex reporting protocol, one seemingly based on a premise that to name is to control. An executive tried to explain that their three different product lines were only separate on our spreadsheets, since in the real world they are all intertwined.

I truly love analysis, in almost every form. It brings a sense of agency in an uncertain world – and occasionally, real insight. The best part is when you can add a great new piece to the rest of the puzzle, and step back to take in the view.

However.

Dear ones,

perhaps,

sometimes,

instead of naming each cloud and trying to fix it in place,

we could just appreciate the sky.

My college calculus professor used to say, “I kn

My college calculus professor used to say, “I know you got the answer right, but do you grok it?” He wanted us to feel the math in a way that went beyond the mechanics of the equations.

Then in a Buddhist retreat years ago, our teacher spent some time explaining the tiny spark of clarity that might result from our meditation. When he asked if we understood, everyone’s heads bobbed eagerly. Sadly he replied, “Oh, that’s too bad. If you think you understand it from my words, then I have explained it all wrong.”

And just this week, another wise teacher concluded an extended set of strategic discussions by imploring those of us in attendance, “Please, please, don’t explain it. The more explanation, the more misunderstanding.”

In each of these instances, we were trying to explore an idea that could only fully arise within the doing, a concept that words could outline but never animate.

Friends, I hope we all can aim to become better communicators, clear of sight and full of heart and crisp of mind.

And beyond all that, whether in calculus or consciousness or community, may we save some space for the living that lies beyond language,

these deep wells of knowing where glimmers on the surface barely begin to reflect the splendors below.

I had a hope-full talk with a dear friend this wee

I had a hope-full talk with a dear friend this weekend, and as we parted I noted that I was encouraged by all that could be.

She grabbed my shoulders, looked me right in the eye, and added, “and by what already is.”

Dear friends, may we seed the future with our dearest dreams.

And may we recognize the sprouts that have already emerged,

the forests of our future.

Wishing you ALL the luck this year!

Wishing you ALL the luck this year!

Instagram post 17993128043263380

Instagram post 17993128043263380

Instagram post 18042536278531254

Instagram post 18042536278531254

Do you ever wake up in the morning thinking of all

Do you ever wake up in the morning thinking of all the things you wish you’d done the day before?

Yes, every day is a gift, and it is wonderful to live in the moment.

Yet sometimes, those twinges can be teachers.

These thoughts led me down a little carpe diem rabbit hole, where I learned that “carpe” means something more like “harvest” than “seize.”

Well, that’s a horse of a different color!

Harvest does not say, take all you can, squeeze ‘til it hurts, run run run, more more more!

Harvest asks, what is ready? What has come of all we’ve planted and tended? What part of the season has passed? What weather is on the horizon?

Seizing is desperation. Harvest is discernment.

Dear ones,

Today is tomorrow’s yesterday.

Carpe diem.

Sound up! 🐝🌸

Dream come true! Wall to wall sousaphones playing

Dream come true! Wall to wall sousaphones playing Sweet Caroline! @bostoncrusaders

Welcoming the lunar new year with my favorite rabb

Welcoming the lunar new year with my favorite rabbit, thanks to the amazing @donnadodsonartist !

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