Too Short for a Blog Post, Too Long for a Tweet 359

 

Here are a few excerpts from a book I recently read, "12 Rules for Life: An Antidote to Chaos," by Jordan Peterson.

God didn’t give Moses “The Ten Suggestions,” he gave Commandments; and if I’m a free agent, my first reaction to a command might just be that nobody, not even God, tells me what to do, even if it’s good for me. But the story of the golden calf also reminds us that without rules we quickly become slaves to our passions—and there’s nothing freeing about that.

Ideologies are substitutes for true knowledge, and ideologues are always dangerous when they come to power, because a simple-minded I-know-it-all approach is no match for the complexity of existence. Furthermore, when their social contraptions fail to fly, ideologues blame not themselves but all who see through the simplifications.

 

Above all, he alerted his students to topics rarely discussed in university, such as the simple fact that all the ancients, from Buddha to the biblical authors, knew what every slightly worn-out adult knows, that life is suffering. If you are suffering, or someone close to you is, that’s sad. But alas, it’s not particularly special. We don’t suffer only because “politicians are dimwitted,” or “the system is corrupt,” or because you and I, like almost everyone else, can legitimately describe ourselves, in some way, as a victim of something or someone. It is because we are born human that we are guaranteed a good dose of suffering. And chances are, if you or someone you love is not suffering now, they will be within five years, unless you are freakishly lucky. Rearing kids is hard, work is hard, aging, sickness and death are hard, and Jordan emphasized that doing all that totally on your own, without the benefit of a loving relationship, or wisdom, or the psychological insights of the greatest psychologists, only makes it harder. He wasn’t scaring the students; in fact, they found this frank talk reassuring, because in the depths of their psyches, most of them knew what he said was true, even if there was never a forum to discuss it—perhaps because the adults in their lives had become so naively overprotective that they deluded themselves into thinking that not talking about suffering would in some way magically protect their children from it.

Cultivating judgment about the difference between virtue and vice is the beginning of wisdom, something that can never be out of date. 

By contrast, our modern relativism begins by asserting that making judgments about how to live is impossible, because there is no real good, and no true virtue (as these too are relative). Thus relativism’s closest approximation to “virtue” is “tolerance.” Only tolerance will provide social cohesion between different groups, and save us from harming each other. On Facebook and other forms of social media, therefore, you signal your so-called virtue, telling everyone how tolerant, open and compassionate you are, and wait for likes to accumulate. (Leave aside that telling people you’re virtuous isn’t a virtue, it’s self-promotion. Virtue signalling is not virtue. Virtue signalling is, quite possibly, our commonest vice.)

Intolerance of others’ views (no matter how ignorant or incoherent they may be) is not simply wrong; in a world where there is no right or wrong, it is worse: it is a sign you are embarrassingly unsophisticated or, possibly, dangerous.

It is an act of responsibility to discipline a child. It is not anger at misbehavior. It is not revenge for a misdeed. It is instead a careful combination of mercy and long-term judgment. Proper discipline requires effort—indeed, is virtually synonymous with effort. It is difficult to pay careful attention to children. It is difficult to figure out what is wrong and what is right and why. It is difficult to formulate just and compassionate strategies of discipline, and to negotiate their application with others deeply involved in a child’s care. Because of this combination of responsibility and difficulty, any suggestion that all constraints placed on children are damaging can be perversely welcome. Such a notion, once accepted, allows adults who should know better to abandon their duty to serve as agents of enculturation and pretend that doing so is good for children. It’s a deep and pernicious act of self-deception. It’s lazy, cruel and inexcusable. And our proclivity to rationalize does not end there. 

We assume that rules will irremediably inhibit what would otherwise be the boundless and intrinsic creativity of our children, even though the scientific literature clearly indicates, first, that creativity beyond the trivial is shockingly rare96 and, second, that strict limitations facilitate rather than inhibit creative achievement.97 Belief in the purely destructive element of rules and structure is frequently conjoined with the idea that children will make good choices about when to sleep and what to eat, if their perfect natures are merely allowed to manifest themselves. These are equally ungrounded assumptions. Children are perfectly capable of attempting to subsist on hot dogs, chicken fingers and Froot Loops if doing so will attract attention, provide power, or shield them from trying anything new. Instead of going to bed wisely and peacefully, children will fight night-time unconsciousness until they are staggered by fatigue. They are also perfectly willing to provoke adults, while exploring the complex contours of the social environment, just like juvenile chimps harassing the adults in their troupes.98 Observing the consequences of teasing and taunting enables chimp and child alike to discover the limits of what might otherwise be a too-unstructured and terrifying freedom. Such limits, when discovered, provide security, even if their detection causes momentary disappointment or frustration.

Taking the easy way out or telling the truth—those are not merely two different choices. They are different pathways through life. They are utterly different ways of existing.

You have to consciously define the topic of a conversation, particularly when it is difficult—or it becomes about everything, and everything is too much. This is so frequently why couples cease communicating. Every argument degenerates into every problem that ever emerged in the past, every problem that exists now, and every terrible thing that is likely to happen in the future. No one can have a discussion about “everything.” Instead, you can say, “This exact, precise thing—that is what is making me unhappy. This exact, precise thing—that is what I want, as an alternative (although I am open to suggestions, if they are specific). This exact, precise thing—that is what you could deliver, so that I will stop making your life and mine miserable.” But to do that, you have to think: What is wrong, exactly? What do I want, exactly? You must speak forthrightly and call forth the habitable world from chaos. You must use honest precise speech to do that. If instead you shrink away and hide, what you are hiding from will transform itself into the giant dragon that lurks under your bed and in your forest and in the dark recesses of your mind—and it will devour you.

Too Short for a Blog Post, Too Long for a Tweet 358

 

Here are a couple of excerpts from a book I recently read, "The Origin of Species," by Charles Darwin.

That many and serious objections may be advanced against the theory of descent with modification through variation and natural selection, I do not deny. I have endeavoured to give to them their full force. Nothing at first can appear more difficult to believe than that the more complex organs and instincts have been perfected, not by means superior to, though analogous with, human reason, but by the accumulation of innumerable slight variations, each good for the individual possessor. Nevertheless, this difficulty, though appearing to our imagination insuperably great, cannot be considered real if we admit the following propositions, namely, that all parts of the organisation and instincts offer, at least individual differences--that there is a struggle for existence leading to the preservation of profitable deviations of structure or instinct--and, lastly, that gradations in the state of perfection of each organ may have existed, each good of its kind. The truth of these propositions cannot, I think, be disputed.

It is interesting to contemplate a tangled bank, clothed with many plants of many kinds, with birds singing on the bushes, with various insects flitting about, and with worms crawling through the damp earth, and to reflect that these elaborately constructed forms, so different from each other, and dependent upon each other in so complex a manner, have all been produced by laws acting around us. These laws, taken in the largest sense, being Growth with reproduction; Inheritance which is almost implied by reproduction; Variability from the indirect and direct action of the conditions of life, and from use and disuse; a Ratio of Increase so high as to lead to a Struggle for Life, and as a consequence to Natural Selection, entailing Divergence of Character and the Extinction of less improved forms. Thus, from the war of nature, from famine and death, the most exalted object which we are capable of conceiving, namely, the production of the higher animals, directly follows. There is grandeur in this view of life, with its several powers, having been originally breathed by the Creator into a few forms or into one; and that, whilst this planet has gone circling on according to the fixed law of gravity, from so simple a beginning endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful have been, and are being evolved.

Retirement Daydreams

Of late, the cold weather and weekly work/parenting grind make it easy for me to get lost in retirement daydreams. Yet most people, if they thought about it for more than a few minutes, would realize that, however lovely a cocktail on a sunny beach may sound, it’s not likely a truly fulfilling life, even if you can afford it. 

On the other hand, sometimes I worry when I hear people say they can’t stand the idleness of retirement and instead feel the need to keep busy. I worry because I am myself susceptible to that impulse, and don’t want to make busyness or work an idol in my life such that I feel lost without it. 

Given how hard I drive myself, it may come as a surprise that taking it easy is not something that I struggle to do, when given the space to do it. I enjoy working hard and can tolerate and even thrive while running myself ragged. But it need not define me and in fact I am conscious that this is all for a season and a purpose rather than a sustainable way of living indefinitely.

So I would hope that, if I am lucky enough to afford a retirement phase in my life that is not two seconds before the end of my life, that I would, without being an absolute beach bum, still downshift considerably from my current pace and not feel the need to refill my schedule with activities solely to make up for what used to fill up my days. 

To be sure, there are pursuits I’d love to have more time for, which I hope to be lucky enough to “make it” so that I can enjoy them, like more golf and more reading and more time with Amy and more time with friends. That seems appropriate and delightful, worth working towards and dreaming of. 

A lot of people talk about retiring into a second career or at least a second calling: a job that scratches different itches, or a vocation that draws from wisdom collected over a long career like writing or public speaking. Be useful, give back, have something to look forward to. Eh, maybe. It seems rewarding and I daresay life-giving to continue to invest in issues and in people. But it’s a slippery slope from keeping in touch with enjoyable people and reading up on pet issues, to going down the rabbit hole of having to be busy and useful in order to be happy. 

Maybe I have a book (or 10) in me, or a canned speech or the civic role of a lifetime. Or maybe I can cultivate contentedness in the simplicity of a slower pace, taking care of my body and mind, being available to family and friends without having to maximize every minute. If I’m lucky enough to make it to retirement, you may not catch me lounging poolside, but you may be surprised that you probably also won’t catch me racing around like I do now.

Back on the Rails

 

Up until and inclusive of the first few days of the pandemic, I was a transit pass holder, which meant that my regular commute was by transit and that (important for me, being hyper-thrifty) once I had procured the pass for the month the marginal cost to me of one more ride was zero. I continued to ride, first unmasked and then masked, until March 31, 2020, and then did not renew my pass but instead rode my bike everyone. And then kept riding, for exercise and to get around, until I had logged well over 5,000 miles over the 32-month span from April 1, 2020 to November 30, 2022. 

Effective December 1, I'm back to being a transit pass holder, and it's interesting how my daily routines have changed as a result. During that almost three-year stint, I would bike unless it was pouring rain or if there was ice on the ground, and sometimes I even chanced it when those things were in place. Not surprisingly, I had my share of close calls and near-death experiences, surely a determinant in calling it quits while I had my wits and heading back to the relative comfort of rails and buses. 

I don't miss fighting the elements or dumb car drivers. I do miss the exercise, the speed, and the autonomy. Bicycling is a pleasurable activity, and it puts you in control of your trip from Point A to Point B in ways that transit doesn't quite. That said, transit has much to commend, both from a public policy and personal pleasure standpoint, the latter including taking in the city scene at the street level and/or getting in some reading. You obviously can't read while you're biking, and let's just say while it's enjoyable to bump into someone on a subway or bus you absolutely don't want to run into anyone while biking as taken literally.

These are the kinds of textures an urban life affords you. Many of my friends and family live in places whose built form makes transit or bicycling impossible or improbable. There are certainly advantages to driving. I just prefer not having to for every single trip; in fact, I prefer to drive as little as possible, for reasons related to personal preference and protecting the planet. 

At any rate, I was on the wheels a while and now I'm back on the rails. See you around!

The Content of Our Character

 

Many words have been written by and about the subject of today’s holiday so far be it for me to think I can break new ground with any of my musings. I do want to reflect a bit on this turn of phrase Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. is famous for, “the content of our character,” which has been simultaneously lauded and misinterpreted in contemporary discourse. But I want to take the discussion in perhaps a different direction, which is to consider how Dr. King’s character ought to inspire ours. 

Whether famous or infamous, Dr. King’s short life left a legacy that continues to inspire and challenge to this day, almost 50 years after his passing. There is so much one could say about his life, and I am neither here to saint him or condemn him. He was clearly a complex man: inspired, grounded, flawed, fearless, loved, hated. 

Character, in my mind, is when what we believe in the depth of our souls is courageously reconciled with what we are willing to say out loud and practice in our lives, even and especially when doing so engenders suspicion, hate, opposition, and violence. Dr. King of course paid the ultimate price for his convictions, and prior to his being murdered in Memphis was targeted, reviled, and threatened.

Dr. King believed that what he believed and was trying to do was just and was worth bearing a high personal cost to see through. He believed that he was ultimately right, but that while “the arc of the moral universe” ultimately “bends toward justice,” it does so only when faithful women and men are willing to take action to that end. And he was willing to be one of those faithful ones, and to inspire and lead other faithful ones. 

Dr. King’s work clearly continues to this day. As does the ability for his life to inspire us to take on that work. His strong convictions, spoken out loud and lived out courageously, are an inspiration to so many of us who long for justice to be done, inspiration that is sorely needed to count the cost to help see it through.

The Strength of Weakness

  

While we all have a greater appreciation for wellness and vulnerability, I have noticed a lingering sense of equating strength with not showing weakness. For example, you see someone getting emotional, composing themselves, and continuing on, and you say “wow, the strength of this person to carry forward through their difficulty.” As if the opposite would be true if they could not hold back the tears, that somehow they weren’t strong enough to stifle the expression of pain.

Maybe that’s true. Maybe when I, publicly or privately, bawl my eyes out, it’s because I am truly not strong enough. Yet I would argue that, when I see people being this vulnerable, I don’t think how weak they are. Rather, I marvel at how strong they are. I recognize that their sorrow is natural and appropriate, and I esteem them for expressing it. 

Let me go deeper. Feeling pain means that something matters enough to hurt, which is a truly noble characteristic. Expressing pain means that you are in tune with yourself and willing to have your outward actions be consistent with your innermost thoughts, which to me is a powerful ability. This is why I hold people who show weakness in high regard. They are strong in the midst of their weakness. They are strong because they are feeling and expressing weakness. 

Boys and men in particular, as well as leaders, can struggle against society’s expectation that strength comes from stifling our emotions. I wish that were not the case. Life hurts sometimes, and we all do well for ourselves and those who we lead if we are willing to feel and express that pain.

2022 Car Usage

This is the 13th year I have tracked car usage, so I think it's safe to say this has become a habit. As has the nerdy tracking and graphing of it in Microsoft Excel. (You can check out 2021 here, 2020 here, 2019 here, 2018 here, 2017 here, 2016 here, 2015 here, 2014 here, 2013 here, 2012 here, 2011 here, 2010 here, and 2009 here.)

As before, the Philly totals represent, in order, number of trips, number of legs represented in those trips (i.e. going to and from my in-laws, making one stop to get gas, counts as three legs), and number of legs in which I was driven (rather than driving).
 
The other city totals represent, in order, number of times I was in that location, number of days I was in that location, number of trips, number of legs represented in those trips, and number of legs in which I was driven.

January 12/33/0

February 8/29/1 State College 1/1/1/10/0

March 9/23/0 OCNJ 1/1/1/3/0 NYC 1/1/0/0/0

April 6/19/0 Hershey 1/2/2/8/0 NYC 1/1/0/0/0

May 11/33/0 Baltimore 1/1/0/0/0 

June 12/34/0 camps 5/5/5/15/0 OCNJ 3/3/3/8/0 NYC 1/1/0/0/0 Wilmington 1/1/0/0/6

July 19/57/0 camp 3/3/3/10/0 Wilmington 1/1/1/4/2

August 7/19/0 OCNJ 1/7/6/21/0 SJ 1/5/7/30/2 DC/NC/Pgh 1/4/4/26/0

September 17/52/0 NC 1/1/0/0/4 OCNJ 1/2/1/3/0 Boston 1/1/0/0/4 Wilmington 1/1/0/0/2 Harrisburg 1/1/0/0/0 CMRB 1/1/1/4/0 Iroquoina 2/2/2/9/0

October 19/53/0 OCNJ 1/2/1/3/0 DC 1/1/1/3/0

November 14/38/0 OCNJ 2/4/2/6/0

December 20/58/0 OCNJ 1/4/4/11/0

So my Philly total is 154 trips involving 448 legs, plus another 1 leg in which I was driven.  So that works out to about 13 car trips and 37 legs a month, both up about 50 percent from 2021. Then counting non-Philly trips it's closer to 15.5 car trips and 48 legs a month. Asher's extra-curriculars and my golf habit add multiple trips a month to the ledger, as did 10 separate jaunts to our beach house in Ocean City.

All those trips meant almost 10,000 miles on the family car in 2022. COVID had reduced our mileage in 2020 and 2021 such that at this time last year our average annual mileage for our car was less than 7,000 and now I'd say it's closer to 7,500, still comfortably under what a typical suburban family might log; with multiple drivers you could do double our mileage on each of two or more cars and not blink. A reminder that city living is green living.

Social Habits

For the cause of anthropology and my own self-documentation, every once in a while I like to record how I use social media. These practices of course evolve over time, so what I do now is different from what I did a few short years ago, and in turn will likely be different a few short years from now. Curious to hear what others do so please weigh in with your own habits and hacks.  

Instagram: I follow travel photographers almost exclusively, especially those who capture nature scenes, but spend very little time actually consuming new posts. Mostly I use the app to post pics (which then get automatically cross-posted to Facebook and Twitter), which are a steady dose of family, food, and city scenes.  

Blogger: I have settled into the rhythm of publishing posts at “Musings of an Urban Christian” on Mondays and Wednesdays, and “Huang Kid Khronicles” on Fridays. The former are urban musings (duh), excerpts from books I recently read, and links to interesting posts. The latter are pics, updates, and musings about the kids. Both blogs then get cross-posted to Facebook and Twitter.  

Facebook: Besides my Instagram and Blogger content, I will randomly post scary bike encounters, discussion topics, and sports or culture hot takes. Infrequently I’ll actually look at my feed, which I wish I had more time for because it’s fun to like and comment on my friends’ posts about personal successes, cute kids, and scenic vacations.  

Twitter: Besides my Instagram and Blogger content, my random Facebook posts usually get cross-posted on Twitter. As for consumption, I follow about 100 accounts, which are a pretty racially and politically diverse mix of public figures, personal friends, and news sites.  

LinkedIn: I use this professional network pretty aggressively, to seek out experts and consume industry content. I will also post professional updates, amplify colleagues’ posts, and share news items in industries where I do work.  

YouTube: I might take a handful of personal videos a month, especially of vacation scenes, so once a month those will get posted here. I watch a fair amount of videos in this space during stray moments like when I’m putting my work clothes on or in the background while I’m doing my bills. Common searches are sports highlights, stand-up comedy, and acapella covers.

Bring on 2023 and 50

 

It's 2023. And I'm 50. As a kid, both numbers seemed impossibly distant. Now here we are. Let's do it!