The older I get, the more I find regret to be a sucker’s game. I was the me then that I was, wishing the me then was the me now is just a waste of angst. Learn and move. Learn and move. No regret.
All sorts of stuff — e.g. gabby strangers approaching me unexpectedly when I’m in a low mental energy state. But when I observe the sensation of that nervousness, without rumination or feeding of the feeling, it fades rapidly. As Twain [allegedly, but possibly never] said, “I am an old man and have known a great many troubles, but most of them never happened.”
We’re all screwed. Embrace the chaos or head for the hills.
There is a class of problems that brute force solutions, even when they nudge the needle in the desired direction, always end in devastation.
One can’t drive an aircraft carrier like a jet-ski and expect anything other than a bunch of drowned sailors and destroyed planes.
[Guess who’s been reading the news.]
Anytime that such an encounter doesn’t start with a socially-programmed question [e.g. “Where are you from?” or “How ya doin’?”] or attempt to drag me into a communal bitching session [e.g. “Man, this line sure is slow!”] it has the potential to be a great interaction.
Unfortunately, encounters that meet both criteria are so rare that I’m usually caught off-guard. It’s like seeing a leprechaun or a unicorn, one doesn’t have time to process it before the moment is gone. Still, there have been a few over the years — conversations on topics of mutual interest, mostly.
To surrender to my ignorance. If one can never know exactly what game one is playing, it becomes much easier to avoid getting worked up about whether one is playing it right or whether one will “win” or not.
The hot, molten core. Because it is hot, and molten… And because I am a fancy bag of water.
Be present.
I don’t have a favorite restaurant, but I do have a type: mom-and-pop hole-in-the-wall that only does a few things but does them all exceedingly well. I don’t care for frou-frou places, and it drives me batty when a place has a thirty-page menu and you have to play the “guess what they actually have” game. I always loved watching Monty Python’s “Cheese Shop Sketch,” but have loathed reprising the John Cleese part in so many restaurants.
Chains have their place in the travel pipeline or in a busy schedule, but I generally prefer a novel experience over a cookie cutter one.
Kipling called prostitution
The world's oldest profession.
Now, I'm pretty sure that it
Will be the last, as well:
The last professional endeavor --
The last profitable activity --
That humans do better than
Machines.
Whores will be the last holdouts
To shift from being workers
To being Artists of Humanity. . .
Or - maybe - they will be
The first in that, as well.
If there’s anything that I learned in all those years of Social Science education, it’s that forecasting is a sucker’s game.
I don’t know where I’ll be, but I hope it’s someplace I never saw coming. #embracethechaos.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 