I recently went to a restaurant that served a carrot hummus. Carrot hummus, made from carrots roasted to a perfect Maillard-forward reaction then mashed 200 times by hand, old-fashion artisan style. Garlic aioli, crème fraîche, and first press organic tahini are added to the carrot-pâté and whipped into a hummus-like spread. This will set you back $50.

That's how I heard the description. My partners didn't hear it that way. I think it was the "crème fraîche".

I'm sure the restaurant prepared the hummus the way they described it. It tasted good. But would it have tasted as good if they told me it was "carrot dip"? Probably!

Roast or boil some carrots. Mash them up. Add some mayo, add some tahini, and add some sour cream. Maybe salt, pepper, and some cumin. Boom! Carrot dip. Why make it so complicated?

I can't ask that question though. Social norms prohibit me from confronting the server and saying "who are you kidding here? First... hummus actually means 'chickpeas' in Arabic and what you're calling 'hummus' is usually known as 'hummus bi tahini' and second, why not just be honest that this entire explanation is to justify the $20 price tag on what's essentially roasted carrots mashed with tahini and some mayo and sour cream?"

So, I sit. Quietly . Calmly. I smile. But, inside I am boiling and roiling with discomfort seeing this obvious asymmetry and even more, observing the obvious absurdity —

Without the long and bougie description, would it have tasted just as good if it was called "carrot dip?"

That said, I pleased there was a course of artisan-milled, slow-fermented, twice-proofed wheat flour slabs, toasted to a Maillard-forward golden crust, accompanied by a whipped, cultured cream fat spread.

      

BTS

If you haven't played around with AI, I recommend it. Sure, it's easy to ask it to check your grammar or write emails. But you can get more gains by developing your prompting game.

The prompt I use to get that video involved asking Notebook LM to act like a Boston Consulting Group management consultant and develop a year strategy to de-throne BTS and replace it with a new artist. The audience of the video is an A & R executive. I gotta say, it did a "decent enough" job. I laughed.

Mad love to my ARMY friends. I feel you're misguided. But... I respect your choices and your artist religio- I mean, preferences.

      

I don't carry around many coins or banknotes. When I pay for things, I often use a card or my phone.

In my apartment, there are no mountains of coins or banknotes. And, I don't physically see the money I get paid from my day job. I sometimes see banknotes from gigs.

I know I need money to support a roof over my head, food, and clothes. And when I die, I won't have much use for it anymore.

I think I see money as a form of mass, and with that mass I can create energy. I need energy to do things. So the more mass I ahve, presumably, the more energy capacity I have to do things.

Like you, I stress about money sometimes. Eventually, I won't be able to work and I'll need enough mass stored that I can convert into energy without work generating more mass.

What's interesting to me — is that stressing about money causes me to use energy. I am using energy from my mass reserve thinking about my mass reserves. I'll need to keep generating more reserves to make up for what I lost through stress and what I'll need when I no longer work. I'm deploying a finite resource — energy — towards an abstract concept that I'm privileged to see as an abstraction.

So here I am thinking and writing, spending energy, about a thing that I sometimes stress about that I rarely physically see yet I need if I want to be able to maintain this blog and survive in the modern world.

For some, divorcing ones's self from the grip money has on one's life seems a wise move. Perhaps, the excess energy could be shared with those operating at a deficit. Not a political position, just my musing for the day.

      

"In a single day there lies open to men of learning more than there ever does to the unenlightened in the longest of lifetimes.' In the meantime cling tooth and nail to the following rule: (do) not give in to adversity, never trust prosperity, and always take full note of fortune's habit of behaving just as she pleases, treating her as if she were actually going to do everything it is in her power to do. Whatever you have been expecting for some time comes as less of a shock."

My version which brings me more comfort: In a single day, there lies open to you, opportunities to learn more than can ever be learned by the person who believes they know it all. And, while you're learning, remember that time will pass as it does and things will happen as they happen — best not to be surprised by what life shows you.

My version for maximum comfort:

• Learn as much as you can because you don't know as much as you think.
• Life's a shit show, so stop crying and work at making it a little better.

      

If you ever heard or seen that message, you might have estimated that there are bad consequences to follow that talk. Perhaps you're getting fired, breaking up, a loved one is diagnosed with a terminal disease and has days to live, someone died, you have been diagnosed with a terminal disease and have hours to live, you're partner is pregnant, you aren't getting a bonus, you're losing the house, BTS finally retired, a war broke out, someone bombed someone else, the list goes on.

See how quickly yours and my thoughts can go from 0 to 1,000,000,000?

And, see how quickly you and I can decide that things really are 1,000,000,000?

Suppose you have the talk and you learn that something bad has happened — let's call it "level 50 bad". That you means you twenty million times overestimated the badness! Why and to what end? Probability need to calibrate our estimations of bad down a bit.

I know I'm picking on you. You're not alone though. I do this too. We all overestimate bad.

I am not saying that things can't be bad, or that things might not be really bad. I am saying, you and I are likely overestimating and deciding that it's worse than it is. I see that as arrogant.

Why should we be so confident to believe our overestimations? What do we know that the people living the slog don't know? And since we believe our estimations of bad, why are the people living it underrating their experience? Think about it. It's horribly arrogant on our part. I'm routinely told by my team that I overestimate how bad BTS is on our culture, and they're right, I should probably join them to see how bad it really is for them (Hat tip to Lizzo, a faithful reader).

And I believe you and I need to check ourselves. We need to remember that we overestimate and we need to calibrate down. I am advocating for being closer to what's actually happening than further away from it. It's easier to move through life when you see it as it is than how we intend it to be.

Easier said than done.

      

Sometimes, history reveals that present isn't much different from the past. And, we're probably overcomplicating things.

Read more here: https://arstechnica.com/science/2026/03/recreating-the-complex-cuisine-of-prehistoric-europeans/

      

When your body replaces cells and tissues, it's not like your body hits the reset button and gives you fresh new untarnished material back. It carries forward accumulated damage, adaptation, and errors. It remembers the damage and doesn't let you forget it.

Allow enough time to pass and the vast majority of what you were is not what you are now, and the vast majority of what a person was when they hurt you is not what they are now. And, that doesn't mean the body is any less scarred; which doesn't mean we can forgive and love any less.

      

A fly landed, almost out of nowhere, on the lip of my father's mouth. It walked around, almost like it was inspecting my dad's body. I thought, "please, the guy's almost dead, let him have some dignity." The fly moved to my dad's chest and then to my leg and walked around.

I sat looking at the fly for I don't know how long. I watched it clean itself. I watched it move around. I thought what if my dad became the fly and now he's walking around looking at himself and at me.

A week or so later, my sister and brother drove my dad's cremated remains to Minnesota to bury. We kept a cup of his remains to let go in a creek at Beaver National Park, a park we visited as children with him. As we arrived at Beaver, a fly landed on the driver's side window. It stayed on the window as we drove into the park and to the parking spot, for a few minutes. Minutes later, the rest of dad was part of nature.

      

One important method I use to manage my energy is to "conclude less" and "notice without judgment more."

Concluding is like deciding why, how, and what things are with little-to-no data to back up the conclusion.

Noticing without judgment is simply the act of observing and not concluding why a thing is the way it is. Noticing invites curiosity and acceptance.

The upside of this practice, I'm a lot more pleasant to engage with and I maintain a healthy and successful life.

The downside, I notice everything.

      

"We don't accept cash, please use card."

I then noticed a jar with cash that read:

"Tips power us."

I see two different signals — "please don't give us cash" and "please give us cash".

I asked the person behind the cash register why don't accept cash for payment. The person said they prefer card because it's safer than handling cash.

— then why risk the tip jar?

      

I decided I would make myself known by saying, "you can just ask me directly, I'm right here."

Kia took us to room 3280. My mom prepared for her tests. A nurse, red-head lady — I forgot her name, walked in and looked at my mom. Nurse introduced herself. Didn't look at me. Didn't acknowledge me.

Hello! I'm sitting in the room. It's okay for you to acknowledge me and say "hi!"

Doctor walks in. Introduces herself to my mom. Looks at my mom and says, "who do you have with you?"

     

"Entrace to Main Hospital Floor 1. Ground Floor Exit Only."

I pressed the button for Floor 1.

I walked out of the elevator on Floor 1 and did not notice a main hospital entrance anywhere. I saw stairs that took me up to other elevator lobbies, and I found a door that went outside. I also saw a sign outside the elevator I just walked out of that read:

"Take These Elevators to Level 2 for Emergency and Main Hospital."

I took the elevator to Level 2.

On Level 2 I noticed an entrance to the hospital. I walked to the entrance. I saw a sign that read:

"Entrance for associates only. Go to Floor 1 for the main entrance and registration."

Happily, I pushed the button for entrance to Floor 2 entrance, lied to security claiming I was an associate, and calmy found registration --- on Floor 1.

     

I am a musician, but I am not an artist. I don't make original music that I then sell. I don't work with a ton of artists who do. I know quite a bit about marketing and advertising; but I don't know it well in the Indie music sense. What right have I to claim that Bandcamp is the best platform?

I argue none. My marketing knowledge, my experience as a musician, and my experience of the platform gave me a false sense of confidence before my claim. Someone with more indie music marketing experience might claim differently. Perhaps, on net, Apple Music or Spotify are better?

If someone were to call me out on my overclaim, I think I would acknowledge my lack of competence and commit to doing things differently. I would:

1. Acknowledge the initial reaction: "Oh my gosh, BandCamp is the BEST platform for independent musicians, I love it here." This is a reaction that feels aligned with my experience, I'm acknowledging my perception.
2. Baseline myself. I have no prior experience in music platforms for independent musicains to market themselves, but Bandcamp seems like a top-tier candidate.
3. Give some alternatives. Spotify or Apple Music might be stronger contenders. Also, Patreon or Substack-style membership could be better alternatives.
4. Define my probability based on a range tied to a definition. Let's say I define as "best for musicians to monetize their music directly to audiences", under that definition, perhaps Bandcamp has a 30-50% chance of being the best.
5. Specify what would make me change my mind. Maybe anecdotes from other musicians I respect, perhaps a report I read in a trade magazine, something else.
6. Decide how to act. Let's say I learn that most musicians think Bandcamp is "meh" and data shows its "meh", maybe I'l ldecide that I'll update my views to "Bandcamp is meh".

Reader, it's possible that you read this and say "David is just over excitable, got it." It's also possible that you stop and think about all the different ways you become excited/reactionary throughout the day. You won't have to think far to think of some examples. Perhaps, stopping and slowing down your process for deciding how things are might payoff in contentment and personal peace. You could always give it a try and update your beliefs once you learn more.

     

To love is to have an intense feeling of deep affection, and hate is an intense dislike — both love and hate are intense feelings for a thing. They are not opposite, they are like gemini twins.

Both love and hate require something to be significant to me to be felt. For me to have an intense dislike for a person or an idea, that person or idea must be significant enough to me for me to have intense dislike. Love would be no different. In the same way that someone becomes blinded with love, another can become sick with hate.

To be indifferent, or apathetic, towards someone or an idea is to have low-to-zero regard for their existence. For that person or idea to be so disconnected for you that expending any energy towards it would feel like a waste. Where the maount of care for another is so low that cutting the person from your life is as easy as flicking some speck of dirt off your clothes.

Apathy scares me. I don't believe I've personally met anyone or an idea truly apathetic of another. I could say that my mom was quite aggressive towards me, but out of a lack of regard for my humanity? Hardly, it was because she cared for me so much that she showed herself the way she did. Also, I'm not naive enough to know that I might be being naive to claim that I've never personally met a human or an idea that I truly believe is apathetic. I hope that I never develop apathy for another or an idea. I hope, even if it's only nominal, I can always care about what or who I experience.

Love and hate, I wonder if they're misunderstood in a sense. I wonder if caring enough to have hate is a form of love. For example: I might hate the behavior of the drunk Marquette University kids that showed up to my gig; but I perhaps I deeply care about them so much that I expect more from them — perhaps it's not hate, it's disappointment... or because I'm in my mid-40s and have so little tolerance for foolishness, I do hate their behavior... and prefer them get off my lawn, too.

     

And, maybe that question isn't even the right question. Perhaps the right question is:

How much fidelity do I lose as I increase normy politeness?

Suppose a person applying for a job reaches out to a recruiter friend. The friend receives the resume and says "thanks for sending the resume over. I can forward your resume to a friend at a different team."

The person applying, as I see it, might see the world this way: "great, so are you passing on my resume and that's why you're passing it to a friend?" That person may want to transmit that message with no loss in fidelity. How far would that get the person?

The person replies back "thank you for taking the time to review my resume. I would welcome an opportunity to be introduced to your friend. Thanks for your time." A well-worded and pleasant response. But I see it differently.

Being polite reduced the fidelity of that person's belief — we still don't know how the recruiter dispositioned the resume they received from the person, whiuch is the real outcome of interest!

Going further, I'll say the recruiter's attempt at being polite reduced their own fidelity — they didn't communicate how they dispositioned the resume.

Politeness created a black hole of potentially uncomfortable yet honest information that neither party wants to address. Is it worth it?

I advocate against politeness and I advocate for kindness. And being truthful and honest, even when it's uncomfortable, is being kind, and kindness is loving.

Imagine a world where the recruiter says: "Person, thanks for sending me the resume, I don't have a job that I can interview for at the moment, I wish I could help you there, but I can't. However, I have a friend in another division who might have a need, I'll forward your resume and see if they're open to an introduction. If they are, I'll introduce you. That's the best I can do." The person can then reply "Got it. Thanks so much for the kindness."

Kindness requires a bit more effort than politeness. The payoff for the recruiter is that the person on the other end feels perceived, gets relief, and thinks well of the recruiter and their company. I work in marketing, and that's great marketing!

I realize that advocating this position makes me difficult to communicate with for the median person. At the same time, it oddly makes me a breath of fresh air for some. For myself, the jury is still out.

     

Unconditional love, as I understand it, is simply a heartfelt desire to hope that [insert object of unconditional love] achieves its maximum fulfillment, whatever it might be. And unconditional love does not require unconditional acceptance.

I unconditionally love my mom, and I do not accept the torture you put me through having to wear penny loafers as a child.

I unconditionally love my team, and I do not accept their taste in K-pop boy bands — BTS.

I unconditionally love the things I blocked from my life, and I do not accept engagement with them in my life at this point.

We need to replace the "block" button with a "You Do You, I'm Good Here" button.

     

Now, two hours later, I still can't think of what to say.

     

Smidgen, in the United States, dates back to the mid-19th century. And that word is likely related to the Scottish word "smitch" or "smutch" meaning a small amount or a slight stain/smear. Essentially, small or barely noticeable quantity.

Erica, a dear friend, asked me if I could move a coffee date a smidge later. I've now learned that a barely noticeable quantity of time is approximately 1 hour.

     

I never heard of the butterfly effect. I didn't look up the word, I liked how I heard it from Brian.

We need more humans that think like Brian thinks.

     

Resilience : The capacity to withstand or to recover quickly from difficulties; toughness.

The history of resilience:

1. Etymologically, resilience is derived from Latin, resilire, meaning to "leap back" or "recoil."
2. In the 17th-19th, engineers used the word to describe a material's capacity to absorb energy when deformed and release it upon unloading, like a sponge that recoils when you stop squeezing it.
3. In the 20th century, resilience found a new home in psychology, referring to a person's capacity to adapt to stress ,trauma, or adversity without long-term dysfunction.

My issue with these definitions is not the definitions themselves; it's how I see people interpret the definitions. And the interpretation that I frequently observe is: "someone is resilient if they show steady stoic-like responses to hardships." Well, withstanding or recovering don't have to imply "stoic-like" response to tragedy.

Here's how I think of it:

• Capacity is like a container — there's a limit to how much can be in the container before it overflows. Capacity requires self-awareness.
• Withstand or recover quickly — can mean "stoic-like" response but it can also mean to return to a pre-hardship state, or persist in a weakened state before total collapse, or something similar.

Therefore, I prefer this interpretation of resilience: being so self-aware of one's capacity to endure hardship before they totally collapse that they're not at all surprised by their reaction to difficulties. Said more simply: not being surprised by how one reacts when shit gets real.

Under my interpretation, there's no expectation that you be "stiff upper lip" when life gets tough. My interpretation requires you to develop self-awareness for your capacity to endure hardship and to be mindful enough that your reaction doesn't surprise you.

It's easy to act like nothing's wrong when the world is on fire. It's much harder to be self-aware that the world is on fire, you're on fire, and you're not surprised that you're in shock.

     

"The beginning of the path to finding God is awareness. Not simply awareness of the ways that you can find God, but an awareness that God desires to find you." - Fr. James Martin, "The Jesuit Guide to (Almost) Everything"

At last night's gig, a gentelman named Bobby stop me. Bobby spoke about how he observed people sit back and relax in their seats when we began to play. He said that he could feel energy from the bandstand to him, almost inviting him to find joy. Bobby spoke that we're all on a journey, and the journey is made brighter by our music.

In my journey to find a state of life where I can express my heartfelt benevolence for people to achieve their maximum possible fulfillment from the music we make, I believe I've also learned that those people I seek to serve want to find me.

I bet the same is true for me.

     

File this under "things David doesn't understand about how and why we do the things we do" file.

I caught myself the other day asking a co-worker in Nebraska if they received snow. I then asked myself why I cared, I didn't. I then asked myself, then why did I ask? I didn't have an answer other than "social lubrication" which I probably need more of than less of.

I don't mind being asked about the weather. I don't mind talking about it. So what's getting me bent out of shape? Dear reader, I'm trying to understand that with you now.

I often think there's so much more to notice in the world and about people. I often find myself on calls asking about someone's interior decor, or a fact they've told me about themselves, or to point out how well matched they are outfit-wise. These types of observations seem remark-worthy and therefore remarkable. More remarkable than weather, most times.

I think the answer is not if I care about the weather, but if the weather is then worth being remarked on, and if there's something more worthy to remark about.

Perhaps the disconnect I'm seeing is that there's so much about humans that's worth remarking and querying on; and climate is just one small part.

Noticing the whole elephant has its pros and cons.

     

Perhaps the other walker really enjoyed looking around. Maybe they wanted a solo walk and to feel cut off — I get that, I love that too. Perhaps I am hideous and imposing — I'm big, I have a prize-winning RBF, I'm dark, I've got facial hair... I get it... I am the face of Pascquale from Chuck-e-cheese driven childhood nightmares.

An hour later I walked into a coffee shop. I noticed someone walk in — they looked at me standing away from the register, looked at the register, looked back at me, and then looked at the register. I said, "I'm not in line." They looked away and walked away.

After leaving the coffee shop, in the parking lot, people walked from their car towards the door. I noticed them and smiled, they immediately looked away.

What social contract am I breaking? Is there a norm I wasn't taught as a child?

I'm trying to think if I actively look away from people when I approach them. I can't easily recall a time, though I'm sure I do. Generally, I'm more interested in seeing if and how people recognize me.

Maybe I'm a victim of noticing.

     

Now, when I play I feel detached. I feel that my mind is not contained within my physical body. I perceive my self, the part of me that's not connected to the body, interacting with the other musicians and the audience. I feel the other selfs interacting and engaging with me. In my mind's eye I see ths big ball of light form and pulse. I feel the music is a creation of the whole, not a work of one.

After the show is over, audiences and musicians alike look at each other as if they were in on the mystical experience. They give the approving nod, fist bump, and smile.

I find work outside of music similar, but perhaps not as mystical. People's energy interacting and engaging with one another trying to solve a problem or make something happen. The more positive (read literally) energy in the zoom room, the more likely we'll be productive.

It's easy to sit here and waive my hands about mystical experiences to you. I want this to be a generous post, and I want you to walk away with what I think makes this happens.

1. Intent. An earnest intent that what you are about to do is not about yourself, and it's for others.
2. Hang. Musicians use the term "hang" to mean what it's like to be around someone; you need make a good hang happen . Use humor, take an interest in someone and ask about their life, share something, or whatever you can to make the experience of being around you warm and welcoming. People won't open up if they don't feel comfortable around you.
3. Humility. Open yourself up to what happens. Be ready to admit when your idea doesn't work. Be open to ideas of others. Be open to the ideas that make no sense at all — sometimes those are the best. Be humble about yourself and the process.
4. Willingness. A willingness to act on ideas, even if they appear silly or nonsensical. If you're not willing to act, then it will be impossible to create something meaningful.
5. Humility (2nd time). It's not about you and it never was. It's bigger than you. It's beyond you.
6. You are not your mind. Remembering that what you think is not who you are, there's an observer behind what you're thinking and doing — that little voice in the back of your head or your "gut". Listen to it!

Looking at the six points above, it would seem these experiences have more to do with your mindset than anything else, and perhaps that's the point. The mysticism of the arts and a great team is not in some "method" or "best practice" or in the Harvard Business Review. That this would seem mystical is a paradox — it's unintuitive to have such a practical intuition-centered method to get to a place that we humans have been getting to for a very long time.

Perhaps what's hard is to accept that you might be the problem — your mind that is. I imagine that if someone were to present a rigorously peer-reviewed randomized control large sample sized trial which major media would then pick up and popularize would make the materialist-oriented mind feel more certain. I get that. I think tons and my mind often gets in the way, and that's when I make mistakes.

And perhaps I'm overthinking now... but I don't think so. This feels right.

     

I asked a three people to suppose there was a coin between. I prompted: suppose I flip the coin, what is the probability the coin flip results in heads versus tails? All three responded with 50/50. And I could imagine most people might think that. However, the answer is wrong. The answer is technically $50% \pm 100%$ — which is the same as saying "try it and find out".

The Law of Large Number tells us that we need close to 1,000,000 coin flips to occur before we could say with high confidence that the result of a coin flip resuling in heads is 50/50. I'm not spending my time flipping coins, so the next best thing is to assign an amount of precision — or confidence.

I won't belabor the post with math; you can search on google or with an AI tool to learn more. The point is: precise beliefs about what might be true or happen require large amounts of data. As the amount of high quality data comes in, so to can your confidence in the belief; little-to-no data should translate to "it's nothing more than a coin toss at this point, let's see how it pans out."

I use this thinking as a mental-health improvement hack My views on the world tend to feel more or less certain by the amount of quality data I collect and analyze. My confidence in a restaurant being good may be informed by the number of reviews, a claim about world events being true may require to source news from multiple differing sources, that a musical idea works needs multiple performances and validations each time. As more data comes in, confidence in my beliefs about the world rise. Paradoxically, it's that lack of confidence in my beliefs that reduces anxiety, reduces perceptions of being slighted or that I'm being attacked, and enables me to feel more grounded and content.

Yes — as I become less and less certain, I become more and more grounded. I am not a contradiction. I am simply not large enough, and if that realization isn't good for my mental health, I don't know what is.

     

Rules to Guard Your Mind

1. Citizens of a country are not a monolith. Not every Filipino loves adobo, and not every American likes country music.
2. Humble yourself — remember you don't know as much as you think you do and you're probably wrong.
3. Listen with every sense!

With the rules in place, I would then prescribe a set of actions.

Do This

1. Listen with your eyes — watch how people interact in this home, and do as they do. Don't be bothered if you're told what to do.
2. Listen with your ears — listen to the sounds, television, music, cooking, and how people talk with another and how people talk to you.
3. Listen with your eyes again — watch how people conduct themselves around you and reply in kind. If they put a hand out to shake your hand, reply with a hand out. Mimic.
4. Listen wtih your mind — gather as many inputs from your sense and imagine yourself mimicing them and doing as they do. When in Rome!
5. Listen with your mouth — eat what they want and how they eat. You don't have to like the food. It's better if you just enjoy the experience of experiencing it.
6. Listen with your heart — at the end of the day, these are people just like you who are trying to love others and be loved themselves — enjoy these people, they are perfect as they are and they don't need to change for you to extend them love.

I might be wrong about all of this; I'm happy to be humbled. It's been my experience that listening first and mimicing to fit in have helped me crack more culuture codes than any other method — even more than learning a language.

     

He probably lives in more of a real world than my sister does. On the cusp of becoming a teenager he lives with bullying, teenage-related drama, and other things I won't mention that make his world vivid and real.

Stepping outside of my nephew, let's think of a baby. A baby emerges from its mother and greeted with blinding lights, humans in masks, and possibly gets spanked almost immediately to start crying. That sounds real to me.

Fast forward to end of life, I believe my dad's existence at the end was vivid and dramatic. He couldn't express himself with words, he was shitting the bed, he needed help to go to the bathroom — sounds real.

I can't judge parents, I am not one. I do wonder if the parent lives in a world that is their hopes and fears for their offspring, and, if that world is influenced by the possible future or the fragmented past — none of which are now. That said, I can also imagine that if I suddenly had responsibility for another human's life and development, it would be hard for me to operate otherwise, I'm sure of it. Mad respect to all the parents out there!

     

I see two lines on the left side, they're parallel with each other. They are not too long, almost like the width of one eye.

On the right side I see a longer black rectangle, the long side is up and down.

In the middle of the space is the collection of blue and green, but like a super dark blue. I'm reminded of the ocean.

The colors change, and there's a sweeping effect that shows up on the left.

There's a sea-weed green color that borders the four corners of the space.

Everything is phase-y; coming into and out of phases.

I'm getting early-90s-TV-lost-reception vibes.

     

You generate better question when you know your outcome of interest, your $y$ value.

Here's a silly example.

Question: What happens when you eat more slices of pizza?

That's hard to answer. We don't know what we're outcome we're trying to measure. What happens to your enjoyment? What happens to your weight? What happens to your inclination to make bad decisions — such as listening to cheesy K-Pop boy bands? Weight, enjoyment, inclinations — these are outcomes, $y$ values.

The $y$ value comes from an x-y graph. The $x$ axis is horizontal, left to right, and the $y$ axis is vertical, up and down. As $x$ increases or decreases, there's an effect on $y$ — the outcome of interest.

There's a difficulty here — how do you know if you're focused on the right outcome?

That's tough to answer. If we're talking pizza, does one of the outcomes above matter more than the other? That seems like personal preference. If you're in business, likely profit matters more than other outcomes, but maybe not. Context matters.

I'm not here to tell you what to do in each context. Instead I recommend that knowing the question isn't enough if you don't know the $y$ value behind the question.

     

justify, verb : show or prove to be right or reasonable : declare or make righteous in the sight of God.

If the aim of the action is to prove correctness, reasonability, or righteousness in the sight of God; then there must be a why.

What prompt, reason, need is filled by proving right, reasonableness, or theological righteousness? I image a few.

The boss. An un-trusting boss may ask a person to show or prove themselves to be right or reasonable. Perhaps that person has done something to lose trust and actions to gain trust back are required. Depending on how much you need the job, you might need to over-justify to maximize the amount of trust reciprocated back to you.

Peers. Perhaps if you come from a collective-oriented culture, a peer set's opinion of you may require you to justify. Who wants to be known as that person who is always taking advantage of the system? Or that person who always eats the last chip from a chip bowl? I never want to be the source of a pearl clutch more than I already am.

God. Sure. If you believe in any god and you fear that god, you may want to make yourself righteous before that god. And if you're going to declare yourself righteous, you better have receipts. That seems an awful way to live — my personal opinion.

Self. Perhaps the justifier doubts themselves. Maybe they constantly ask themselves — are we supposed to be doing this thing? And so they must justify to resolve that doubt. Seems reasonable.

We have some reasons for justification. Let's talk manner and means.

The Town Square. Public justification is like public flagellation — it requires a display with receipts to demonstrate right, correct, reasonable and righteous behavior and it seems a ritual. I'm observing the town square through how I see the world, I'm sure for the public justifier it's far less medieval.

To The Self. Probably where the most justification happens — to ourselves. Constantly telling ourselves that we made the right decision and are on the right path. I probably do this to myself a bazillion times a day.

My quibble is not with the justification of the self to the self. My quibble is with the public justification. Do we need it? Do we need to show ourselves right, correct, or righteous? Does the status and perception of others matter that much?

No need to justify yourself to me, friend. I love you as you are, nothing needs to change about you. Except, I would like you to explain why it's reasonable for you to publicly justify yourself.

     

"Your opinion is very important to us.

You may receive a survey in your email.

Your service advisor is the only one accountable for ALL of your responses.

If you have any issues preventing you from exceptional responses, please contact us."

Accountability, adj, : (of a person, organization, or institution) required or expected to justify actions or decisions; responsible

I like to believe, reasonably, that I am accountable for the words I use to express myself in any medium. I derive some comfort with a, perhaps irrational, belief that I am in control of myself. But I should be epistemically humble.

Perhaps I don't own what I think I own. Perhaps these words you read now are yours and not mine. Maybe my thoughts and ideas are not my own. Perhaps they belong to a universal consciousness that we're all a part of. What if — I am you and these words are yours and I'm channeling you to output these words to you now!? What does that say about you?!

Hyundai West Allis is the every day philosopher of mind that I need. Overpriced car repairs coupled with ontological shock, quite a deal.

Of course I asked the service manager if it's true: "does the service advisor who helped me, Keith, own all of my words? If I wrote, 'Keith is fat', does he have to own and justify those words?"

I should know that people don't like those questions. But, perhaps I was channeling the collective consciousness.

     

I learn about my world and myself by asking questions. I never finished college, and I'm in my mid 40s and successful, and I survived all this time asking lots of questions. I'm a challenging person, for 93% of people. I'm not sorry.

I want to learn more about my body. I'm curious about my blood pressure, metabolic health, mental health, how the system works, and I'm curious about medical research. I enjoy reading the "literature" and I enjoy learning about what scientists have developed consensus on and where they are pushing the field.

Doctors, I find, are not very scientific.

I come into the clinic. I get rushed in. I take my weight — I have to make the argument that with all my 100 layers of clothes on and having just drank 2L of water I am necessarily more heavy than I was when I just got woke up. I'm taken into an exam room, the blood pressure is taken — incorrectly — and the readings are high. Then the wait.

While waiting, I sit and I wonder. What's the doctor doing? How could they be more efficient? Why bring me back if I wasn't ready? What if they could have some kind of x-ray or wearable device that could take my blood pressure WHILE I wait because it would surely, for me, come down.

The doctor walks in, white lab coat donned, brimming with confidence. We've never met before, and the dance begins.

Doctor: If I am going to be your doctor, I will give you recommendations and I expect you to follow them.

Me: No, if I allow you to be my doctor you will justify your recommendations and I will make a decision.

I can see the doctor is getting frustrated. I'm not going to get pushed around by the white lab coat. And, horrible things have been done to humans when people just do what they're told. I'm not buying it. But, I also need this prescription for my uric acid lowering drug to prevent gout flares, so.. to increase helpfulness, I deploy a different tactic.

Me: Doctor, I'm sorry. I have a condition where I don't pick up on social cues and I tend to say things that aren't in line with social norms.

Doctor, with now a very pleasant tone of voice: Ooooh, I get it. I'm happy to explain how this works.

And I usually ask myself what's wrong with me, and I think I need to rephrase, what needs to be wrong with me in order to get what I need?

     

Do you see enough unconditional love?

Are you able to say to your children that you love them and that they should be able to love themselves and others without anything needing to change?

Do you see leaders, of any kind, telling those they lead that they earnestly want them to achieve their highest fulfillment whatever that ends up being?

Do you tell yourself, daily, that you are already in a condition worthy of love and being able to love just as things are? That you're already perfect.

Perfection, the dictionary definition of the word, is to have all the required or desirable elements, qualities, or characteristics; as good as it is possible to be.

You have that. You are, by definition, perfection . You have all that is required and desirable — you are capable of maximizing your fulfillment in this moment, you are worthy of being loved by others just as you are, and you are worthy of loving yourself fully at this moment — full stop.

It's such a relief for me to know that I achieved the thing that you and I are entitled to — perfection. And it's an even greater relief to know that you have too. And, it's hard to quantify and describe the relief I have believe that everyone on this planet has achieved the same. At this point what's left to do?

Yes, this sounds like a self-help platitude — "easier said than done, Brady" or "so you're saying I can just do nothing?" I am not saying that because you already perfect don't work; I argue the opposite. That because you are capable of unconditional love and because you have everything you need you have no reason but to work!

Whatever that work is, is up to you. For me, it's helping people at my day job, it's giving people an aural tonic that is music, it's writing here, it's expanding my mind by reading, it's talking with others, it's people disagreeing with me, it's me disagreeing with me, it's hiking, it's noticing, it's the activity of being alive. I'm sure that's not all.

I'll end with that the title of the blog is about not striving towards perfection since you're already perfect. Instead, I recommend striving towards delivering as much value as you can to others — maximize your service to others — by using what's already perfect about you.

     

Sonder gives us a framework for seeing through the complexity. Sonder gives us the idea that the complexity is the simple truth. And if you adopt the idea of sonder, then it's helpful to also adopt the tools of curiosity and skepticisms to help you learn the beautiful, anxious, and complex stories we all hold. You might find yourself taking less of a "this is what I believe" position about the world and more of a "here's what I've heard, it's interesting, I'd like to learn more" position.

And, anti-sonderites might think I'm not being much of the realist that I purport to be. I disagree. Sonder is ultra-realist. Sonder invites me to see the world as it is — beautiful, anxious, vivid, and complicated. And sonder requires me to engage in that world with curiosity and skepticism in order to understand it.

Without sonder, you might be gaslighting yourself into a view of the world that's not quite real, but "real enough" to be falsely-believable. And, I fear that doesn't serve you as much as it might serve the system that benefits from its people not seeing.

Conspiracy theorists can spin up blogs to speculate who might want us to be blind and not curious. That's not for me. I claim something more directly — that the cognitive costs of deploying sonder is so great and the returns to developing certainty about the world are so small, that it's more efficient to pick a side and feel more certain.

The tradeoff:

The expected value from spending more time and energy realizing how complex the world and its narratives are and the effect on my uncertainty is so low, that it it's better to allocate my resources behind theories that appear more certain.

For those that prefer that model, that's fine. What those people prefer is perfect, and it's my heartfelt and benevolent hope that it leads to maximum life fulfillment for them.

For me, it's not enough. I derive the greatest fulfillment realizing that nothing is as it seems and that the journey to understanding returns the greatest joy than the certainty that I have it all figured out.

Said another way: $$\text{Human Nature} = \frac{Logic}{\sqrt{-1}}$$

     

Most musicians will look at this and think: good hang with friends, sure, why not!

Most purchasers of music will think: they get to play, it's exposure, why not!

But I am not most musicians or most purchasers.

I cannot make decisions like a normal person. My parents gave me a high quality Jesuit institution, which means discernment is required. I'll do this process now, as I do it for every major life decision, and I'll demonstrate it as I go.

First Principle The purpose of human life is to move towards unconditional love with one's self and the world. Everything we have is to be used to push towards that unconditional love and celebrate it.

The Process

1. Clarify the decision: Should I spend 3 hours of my time playing high energy music in exchange for $75 and some fun with friends?
2. Meditate: The first principle is to move towards unconditional love. Unconditional love would be having the experience of being loved and being able to love wihtout needing anything to change.
3. Gather and weigh data:
   1. Weather: It's -27C out with windchill. There's snow and salt on the ground. My gloves ripped on the middle finger of my left hand — I'm left handed.
   2. Time: It's a 30-minute drive, probably 45-minute with traffic. Times two, that's 60-90 minutes time spent in a car. I'll probably listen to a podcast, maybe that's okay.
   3. Money: Well we have to think of the wear and tear on my vehicle, mileage, and we need to wonder how the effects of the cold on my immune system and potential future costs — I don't apply a discount rate on the future!
   4. Music: It's high energy swing music, that means I'll need to burn calories playing loudly and with gusto. In addition, I'll need to smile and look like I'm having a good time, which I probably will, so let's discount that. I'll be sight reading, so that's cognitive effort, more calories burned by the brain.
   5. The Hang: 90% of the gig is the hang — what it's like to be around and play with the people you're playing with. That's important.
   6. The money: I don't work for free! $75 is... low, but we are helping people have a good time, so maybe that outweighs the dollars? But there's the car and the gas and the wear and tear and the time away from home.
4. Attend to interior movements: as I'm thinking about this decision, I need to consider what's happening to my thoughts and desires and feelings — well... now that I'm thinking about thinking I don't know how I think about it, which means I probably need to think more and discern more...
5. Imaginative testing: I'm going to live the decision as if it's happened. I can already feel myself cussing at how cold it is and wondering why I do this to myself both as I get into the car when it hasn't heated up enough and as I exit the car when I feel again how cold it is and I've just started warming up.

The End After completing such a rigorous process you decide to act. Which option (a) playing or (b) staying at home where it's home brings me closer to the experience of being able to love myself and others without needing anything to change?

Would I happily trade unconditional love of self for a great hang, an amount of money that could get me one avocado toast and a short Starbucks drink, some gas, and play music that was written in the 1920s and hasn't changed since in weather that may or may not be weather god's punishing the Milwaukee metropolitan area?

Yes. Obviously.

     

A ping is a sound wave sent from a submarine to its surroundings. The sound wave bounces off things and returns to the submarine. They do this to tell the distance of things. It's like echo-location.

That implies that if a manager pings me, they want their message to hit me and bounce back at them so that they can tell the distance of themselves from me.

I'm told I'm loud all the time. The LAST thing I want to know is how long it takes my voice to hit something and bounce back. I prefer my voice be absorbed and not bounce back! I don't need to hear me back to me to know I exist. And, anyone who hears me definitely should absorb every last meaningful word I say — which is really what a manager wants but doesn't know how to achieve, otherwise they wouldn't be pinging in the first place!

I am, of course, a hypocrite and I use that word at work at minimum 105 times a day, though I average 97 ± 31.

Each of my 97 ± 31 daily pings represents carefully chosen words that I feel disappear into a dark abyss — I need to know if anyone's still there!

I should do better. One ping, one ping only, as most people at work don't react well to more than that.

     

I always say I've been dropped an appropriate number of times as a baby, had parents as lawyers, and grew up in an Irish Catholic household, and chose the obviously comfortable life path of being a pianist and perhaps am, therefore, appropriately screwed up.

And that's funny to some people.

I call it, any day of my life.

     

A Pattern

1. I see most people driving in neighborhoods and around local commercial areas; this seems like the kind of place that calls a walking spirit. The roads are twisty, the elevations change often, and they butt up against beautiful mountains and valleys — a walker could stop a hundred times and appreciate nature, a driver drives through.
2. I see Miami in most places — beautiful looking sidewalks, lawns, houses, people, food. Everything looks beautiful, but there's little depth underneath. Restaurants, shopping, homes, cars — all surface.
3. Lots of chain restaurants. A few Mexican-inspired places — places serving margaritas, and basic "Mexican" fare like burritos. Pubs served "cuban sandwiches" on wheat sandwich bread alongside "umami fries" which were french fries with seaweed sprinkles. Faux farm-to-table places served basic wraps with greens and all kinds of teas with soft wood interiors and servers with aprons with leather decorations at higher prices. I enjoy off the beaten path places that look public health questionable that serve a few amazing dishes and at reasonable prices, and Santa Clarita is not the place for that.
4. The architecture reminds me of Miami and Miami Lakes — Spanish villa look. But not as gaudy as Miami. Tamer than Miami. Even the gaudiness is restrained, lacking Miami's full-throated commitment to excess.
5. Temperature swings! Started off nice and warm, pleasant, and nights got a bit chilly. Not chilly enough to put on heat, but chilly enough that a light blanket offers comfort. So not too hot, not too cold... pleasant to be in, lacking intensity to be remarkable.

Three Exceptions

1. Nature offered no shortage of depth and demand for respect. I felt awe hiking in the valleys and up large hills.
2. Faith, a restaurant server, demonstrated refreshing depth on first contact. She immediately wanted to get past small talk and into deep topics with my cousin and me, to the extent a restaurant server could. Our meal ended with laughs and a group hug! Other interactions with non-family were transactional, as expected — which made Faith even more refreshing.
3. Huntington Gardens — an oasis of depth in a desert of shallow. Beautiful art and culture exhibits. I loved the gardens. I could spend all day walking there. We enjoyed Chinese food at a restaurant on the premises. 10/10 recommend.

Two extraneous observations of depth:

1. Flying in to Burbank and out of LAX (assuming a late morning flight) is ideal. Traffic is light, and travel times are not anxiety inducing.
2. The drive to and from Santa Clarita to Burbank or Los Angeles is beautiful. Would repeat.

Would I go back to Santa Clarita again? Yes, to visit my cousin.

Yes, if I was going to hike and understood I was trading away depth of food and other cultural interests.

No, if I was going to spend time in a city where I could enjoy its quirks, experience the richness of its community, and feel transported to somewhere else. Santa Clarita doesn't do that for me. It is a beautiful looking place seated in a deeply beautiful environment.

     

Diners don't have this problem.

The diner doesn't regress. The diner might innovate a bit — I see breakfast burritos on menus or "no carb bacon and egg" options. But, on the whole, the food never changes. It's basic and easy.

The greasy spoon diner, not the modern retro takes that pop out, know what they are and live it. They are a no frills "joint" low-cost provider of calories. You don't go there for the fine dining or the "experience". You go there because it's consistent and easy on time and the pocketbook. But that's not enough.

At the diner you might find people holding court and solving the world's problems. Those people tend to be 65+ and tend to have it all figured out. You also see rebels hell bent on solving the worlds problems and they definitely have it all figured out — they are sub 18 years of age. And you see everything in between — families, loners, office worker types, construction worker types, truck driver types, paper readers, regulars, odd people, normal people. What you don't see are people showing up to get noticed. It's a place to notice, but not to be noticed.

There's a beautiful observation — such a simple and functional place attracts such an assorted variety of people for a multitude of reasons. I think it's the simplicity and functionality of the space — you don't go to a simple and functional place to take an Instragram photo of yourself or your $50 avocado toast. You go to a place like that because it's the kind of place where you or others aren't compelled to take an Instagram photo of yourself or your $5000 avocado toast. That person doesn't always show up at a simple neighborhood diner, and perhaps that's attractive to those who love them.

I love a diner. I would happily have my last meal at a diner. And, especially a diner where there's patina on the patina. Where the server, who's worked there their entire life and knows the life stories of all their regulars, is smoking a cigarette (the George Webb's of my childhood, can't smoke indoors anymore) while handing me pancakes. And where food is simple and consistent. A place that knows what it is, while being it, amidst an evolving world.

This, my love letter to Michael's Family Restaurant in West Allis. One such diner.

     

I start with a premise: you and I are made of the same things yet experience the world in unique ways. That's the foundation—shared humanity, different lives.

The next level is sympathetic vibrations. When someone feels harmed, the people accused of causing that harm often feel harmed too—by the accusation, by the conflict, by their own perceived injustices. The "right" and "wrong" parties create effects on each other that amplify and reinforce. It's a feedback loop.

The last layer is incentives and tradeoffs. I assume every party acts to maximize their interest. I think about what they're trading to improve their position, what second and third order effects follow, and what brutal compromises they're willing to make. I ask people for their thoughts. I try to hold space for all of it.

You might observe that I don't come to firm conclusions. In a world where gods amplify narratives and every issue becomes a loyalty test, I prefer to stay curious. I'll hypothesize, but I'm willing to change as I learn more. My refusal to give into certainty — that's the practice of living (for me).

Here's an example: trans rights.

First principle:

People for trans rights, against trans rights, and I are made of the same material and live unique lives. We're the same yet totally different.

Vibrational effects:

Pro trans rights people tend to feel their communities are marginalized, unjustly treated, targeted, vilified, unnatural.

Anti trans rights people tend to feel their words, history, traditions, and basic knowledge of existence are threatened. Their children threatened. They're victims of culture wars. This is unnatural.

I see harm on both sides and I see how the harms reinforce each other, like strings on a piano vibrating sympathetically. I cultivate empathy for both positions.

Incentives and tradeoffs:

Here are two quotes from people I love who are willing to make brutal tradeoffs to strengthen their positions—metaphorical amputation and actual physical confrontation:

• "A doctor would amputate what's not serving the system."
• "I'll absolutely get in a fight with someone."

The tradeoffs people are willing to make—cutting out parts of society, physical confrontation—show this isn't about finding an equilibrium of interests. It's about winning. Zero sum. And when both sides operate from that frame, cooperation becomes impossible.

I feel the weight of this issue. I know readers will want to place me in one camp or another. And I feel that pull too — the desire to resolve the anxiety by picking a side and letting the tribe do my thinking. But that resolution would be a kind of paralysis. The aliveness is in the resistance — in refusing to let amplified narratives be my conclusions, in embracing the nuance even when it's uncomfortable.

The very fact that I can doubt, question, and cultivate empathy with both sides of a controversial issue — that I can attempt to understand why people hold positions I might oppose—tells me I'm alive. I'm exercising agency. I'm thinking with my own mind versus letting the gods think for me.

You might say this method doesn't lead to action in the face of injustice. I argue the opposite. Acting from rage produces escalation. Acting from understanding produces resolution. Because if I rage, I see enemies to defeat; while my understanding sees humans in conflict whose interests might, with effort, be reconciled.

The "Iliad" shows us warriors can fight for their positions while still seeing their opponent as worthy of respect, even friendship. I see that as a kind of strategic empathy resulting from how I see the larger system.

I never intend to tell people what to think or believe. My intent is to show another way of thinking: that beneath the surface of every issue are people trying to live with dignity — even when their visions of dignity clash. People wanting to love and be loved in return.

Seeing that simple shared humanity doesn't paralyze me. I believe it equips me to act effectively — to respond to what's actually there: humans in conflict, a system that could move towards cooperation if we stopped treating it as a war for total victory.

This practice — holding space, staying curious, refusing to let the gods do my thinking— costs something. It means living with uncertainty when everyone around me has chosen their camp. It means feeling the anxiety of not knowing what to believe or who to believe or if to believe.

But, I rarely do life the easy way — who chooses a musician life style for the ease. And that discomfort, that lack of ease, is the price of consciousness. It's maintains my humanity. It's what makes me feel most alive.

     

Homer's "Iliad" opens with two powerful men — Achilles and Agamemnon — who are pissed at each other over honor and a woman taken as a bounty of war. Their fight with each other is about standing, who gets to claim what, and public humiliation. Their nation, Greece, is at war with Troy; and Achilles is so furious by his issue with Agamemnon that he withdraws from the fight all together, willing to let his own people die than fight for a leader who disrespected him.

The Greeks and the Trojans have been at it for nine years. Why? A woman taken, an act that violated hospitality and marriage and conveniently gave both sides an opportunity to war. The gods don't help, they amplify everything, whisper in ears, tilt the scales, and turned an issue that could have been resolved through cooperation into something that must be avenged.

The "Iliad" tells the stories of warriors who die for perceived slights. For loyalty to family lineage. For national honor. For orders given by men who claim divine favor. The text is full of young men killing each other over things that appear ridiculous. And yet, given the amplification by the gods and the moment itself, it all feels righteous.

That kind of thing could never happen now.

Except, the "Iliad" isn't just about war. It's about when warring takes a beat and pauses. When fighting does stop, it's not because a victor emerges, it's because warriors choose to see each other differently.

Homer writes about a fight between Hector (Trojan) and Ajax (Greek). The heralds interrupt the fight. They agree to duke it out the next day. But before they part ways, they exchange gifts — parting as friends who see each other worthy of their respect.

Armies pause for funeral rites. Greeks and Trojans both recognize that mourning the dead are obvious reasons not to fight. It's understood that, universally, that death is pain and deserves its time.

Go to the first question: how much are you spending on your rage? And how long have you been raging?

What would you need to see in a person, or an idea, that would make you choose to pause? What would you need to see in yourself?

Gods, in the Iliad, are like media (social or any kind) — they amplify a narrative. They rouse a will to war, or rage, against a person or an idea. The gods are the voices in your head that tell you that you're right and just and the others are wrong and evil. Why give those voices power?

Your enemy, is a person who also fears humiliation, carries wounds, and believes they're defending something just as important as what you believe yourself to be defending. That doesn't make your enemy right and you wrong, and it doesn't make you right and your enemy wrong. It does mean that you and your enemy have something in common — a shared and fragile humanity.

Your enemy might be an idea. And I argue that an idea is not a person, it's a story we want to tell ourselves and that we want to be alive or dead. And ideas left unattended and unchecked can be intoxicating and dangerous. Ideological humility is a virtue. Hold your story lightly enough to recognize it's a story — one that can inspire you but isn't finished, isn't complete, and doesn't capture all of reality.

The choice to see the shared humanity is not a one-time choice. It's a persistent practice. It requires effort and constant reinforcement. It may not seem worth it because the ideological or physical stakes may look too high. I maintain the practice is worth it and is felt in the long-run.

I am a realist and I advocate for peace. Not because it's easy or because conflicts aren't real, but because the alternative — years of life and energy raging over harms appears absurd from any distance. And because when I choose to hold space for the enemy in my head and my heart, I feel most alive.

     

A memorial service is a kind of market. Dad had an explicit wish for one thing. Others would like to see something else. No one participant in this market is right, and no one is wrong — there are just different interests to consider. The goal of the market maker, the siblings, is to find a way to meet everyone’s interests with the least amount of waste (hurt feelings, anger, resentment, lifelong grudges, and wrecked families).

I get paid to do that kind of work every day. Sellers have different demands and needs than buyers and I try to find a way for both parties to meet at the equilibrium point. When that happens, business happens. However, a memorial service is not a business transaction, though it feels like one.

When a person wants to buy a thing, they are investing money into a thing they believe will solve a problem they think they have. The classic marketing school example is that of a hammer — a person buys a hammer to make a hole in the wall. I argue a person buys a hammer because they have pride — presumably they want to hang something on the wall they’re proud of. A salesperson isn’t selling a hammer, they’re selling pride. A memorial service is similar.

Some people who want to attend a service have decades of history with my Dad. For them, a 45-minute service represents decades of a life with someone. It’s a chance for that person to get closure on that life. For some people, the 45-minute service represents the almost 79-years of my Dad’s life. A hammer is not just for a hole, and a service is not just for readings and music.

The challenge for the market maker here is that everyone’s perception of what constitutes value from a service is different. For some its readings and music rendered by offspring. For some, it’s immediate family. For some still, it’s a few words. Religious and societal cultural traditions are also production input factors.

Personally, I see playing or reading at my Dad’s funeral as a net negative. I can’t imagine anything more horrifying for me than doing that. A priest can do readings and we can always play recordings, or hire someone. But contrastingly, someone might see my participation as value.

Like every economic decision there are tradeoffs. My siblings and I will make decisions that will appear some aspects of the market, and disappoint others. Equilibrium doesn’t mean that all needs are met, it just means the market has reached a balance between the quantity of a thing supplied at the current price and the quantity of the thing demanded at the current price.

     

These people all mean well, and I love them. They want and need closure. They want to participate. They want to help. They want to show support. I love it! Truly. I just don’t understand it.

Who has these details figured out immediately? For my siblings, they’re still figuring out their day and what they’ll do next. They’re stressed. The LAST thing they want to think about are these details. Me, meh, I prefer to work on these things on a work day as this feels like work to me.

I realize these are natural questions. And I am sure some families have these things ironed out well in advance. But we did not intentionally. We didn’t know when Dad would pass. And, we didn’t know what we didn’t know — those are terrible conditions for making effective decisions. Instead, we chose to see how things looked post-death and mindfully and methodically work the problem — as a group (my siblings and I).

I laugh as I write this post to you. So many people tell me “everybody grieves in a unique way”, yet, it also appears that everyone expects everyone to have their shit together the same way too.

     

Perhaps I am cynical, or maybe I’m just over it. What is the utility of a condolence?

Usually, the condolence includes something like “I’m so sorry for your loss.” But then I think, “what did you do to be sorry?” Also, isn’t a bit presumptuous to believe I’ve lost something?

Death gave me a great perspective and a deep sense of freedom.

I know that at some point I must die. I must go through a fate like my father. And, while I wait for that time to come, I must maximize the time I have now. To continue to live the way my Dad would want. To continue to have his words and advices in my head. He said he would be more alive to me dead than alive, and it’s true. I can’t help seeing and hearing him and his advice in all things. I can’t thank the universe enough for that gift.

I don’t see why someone should be sorry for me, and I don’t see the need for a condolence. I’ve been grieving for years. I’m actually in a pretty good mental health spot. I’ve got a perspective that’s informed by constant reflection, noticing without judging, and grounding myself in a philosophy of life that embraces death and the absurdity of fearing it.

I anticipate my greatest struggle will be not be dealing with death, but dealing with how other people expect me to deal with death…

     

When measurements are taken, the nurse asks me to rest my arm on my leg. The measurements are taken after in the morning after a cup of coffee. Usually my arm is dangling next to my side. Additionally, healthcare and the system it belongs to challenges my patience. It’s no wonder that my blood pressure is elevated, 138/68 in the office. The doctor is concerned, and contemplates increasing the blood pressure medication.

I take my blood pressure at home, almost at the same time every day. The diastolic (top) number is 112 on average, with a standard deviation of 13 points. I don’t see much volatility between the numbers for the last 5 days, most however around 108 or 113. When I take measurements I use all of the measurement best practices — my arm is level with the top of my heart, the blood pressure cuff is correctly situated, I’m sat down with both feet on the floor, and I don’t attempt to zen out. I’m puling these best practices from Nature — source.

The doctor’s office measurement is 2 standard deviations above the mean, almost 3 — which would make it more significant data-wise. The nurse is not adopting established best practices when taking measurements — it’s clear that the arm position matters. And, I’m starting to experience some dizziness when I change position — my hypothesis is that this is caused by my current dosing of blood pressure medication. I decide to share my thoughts.

I fail to understand why healthcare professionals become so extremely offended at feedback from non-professionals.

• Healthcare people appear extremely direct, their bedside manner more-often-than-not leaves a lot to desire, and when I attempt to mirror that bedside manner they find me rude.
• Perhaps they’re stressed out and overworked? Well, I’m stressed out and overworked, and I don’t prefer to be on more medication — and I prefer better collected data.
• Maybe they believe their expensive credentials are being challenged? That’s a good thing! We learn when we fail. And, at least as it relates to medication that goes into my body, I prefer to be open to data — I am my own n=1 experiment.
• Perhaps they’re aware and wish they could do better but this is not the time and place? Then I argue, when is the time and place? Perhaps I should leave feedback on the “healthcare survey” form? I’m convinced that data is used in the aggregate, and any system change is made to appease the median patient — I’m probably an outlier and it wouldn’t make sense to change a system for an outlier.

Of the people that are the hardest for me to understand — healthcare professionals continue to be the subset of humanity that my connection efforts fail. Mirroring communication patterns doesn’t work. Showing the peer-reviewed human/clinical trial preponderance of data doesn’t move the needle, and being gentle only allows the bully to be more of a bully.

I’m not ready to give up… Call me Ahab.

     

When I arrived at the facility, in the afternoon, Dad was alone in bed. I sat next to him. His eyes opened up for me. He looked at me, we made eye contact. His eyes, appeared to have little-to-no life left in them. Time appeared to stand still as we fixed our gaze on each other. Then I noticed his left eye begin to veer off course, my Dad attempted to point at his eye as it veered. The eye veers because the muscles are not holding it in place.

His eyes closed, and the percolator, known as “Death Rattles”, started. Accompanied with that noise was that B-below-middle-C moan.

I stayed with Dad that night. My shift started at 10/10:30pm. I fell asleep at 5:30am for an hour or so. Between 10/10:30pm and 5:30am I stayed awake speaking to my Dad about our time together. I imagined we were camping again in the backyard. I talked about our times together — driving from Milwaukee to Miami and staying in motels that looked like drug dens. I recalled how he always reminded me that “God and me make a majority” and to never let a day go by where I don’t tell the people in my life that touch me that I love them. I spoke about how I felt he was the only one who truly got me, who knew how my soul worked.

I recalled a letter he wrote to me in eighth grade. A few quotes are below:

“God’s love will help you love others more. Only if you love others — your brother, your sister and your friends — will your life be fulfilled. This you have done well. From the help you give your brother to daily phone calls to your Grandmother you have shared God’s love. Always remember how important this is. Never let a day go by without telling your Mother and those other people who touch your lives how much you love them….Always follow your heart. You know what is right. Always remember that, no matter what anyone says, God and you do make a majority . If you follow your heart you will never be ashamed of anything you may do in life. Your Mother and I wish that you could forever be that little boy whose picture I have enclosed. We wish that every day would be your first at school. We wish that every night for the rest of our lives we could kiss you goodnight and tell you how much we really love you. These wishes can never come true. You have matured and you will continue to grow. However, there is one wish that can come true. That wish is that every day we tell each other how much we love them — how much they turn the sun on in our lives — and carry out our words in action.”

I played him a voicemail he left on my phone in November of 2011:

“10:35, I’m going to bed, I just thought I wanted to tell you before I go to sleep how much I love you, and how much I’m proud of you… goodnight.”

I cried. My eyes winced. My chest muscles jerked.

I put my head next to his and expressed how happy I was that I could have just one more night with him to tell him how much I loved him. To tell him that I will do what I can to be a person that serves others. To not allow petty things to get in the way of love. That I am so thankful that I had just this experience, as stressful as it was, to tell him how much he meant to me… and how proud I am that he is my Dad. And most importantly, how proud I am that he finished what he started.

When I woke up at 7:30am, his moaning became louder and the rattles kept going.

I picked up my mother who wanted to say a few words to Dad. I brought her to Angels grace, I was gone not more than 45 minutes to an hour. When we walked in the noises stopped. My sister said to get the nurse. We cleared the room so that my mom could talk.

The nurse walked in. With her stethoscope she listened.

2 minutes of silence passed.

“It’s been two minutes and I have not detected a heart beat or noises from the lungs. Your father has passed. I am so sorry.”

Dedicated to my Dad (1946 - 10/9/2025), who I love so very much.

     

His eyes mostly closed. He held a cross in his hand given by his sister. He began to moan. The moan changed pitches, but I place it at B below middle C. He would make a fist and waive it. The moan became louder.

The nurse came in. The moan continued. She scanned his bladder, and found tons of urine. She installed a catheter. His moaning stopped.

She gave him morphine.

He slept.

     

As he sat, two people came in — one white and one black — both kind faces, young. They wore navy-grey jackets bearing the Bell ambulance logo. Their coats, I’m not sure of the material, but they swooshed — A LOT. Lots of swooshing. Like a light coat you might wear for windy weather rubbing against itself.

A nurse gave him morphine. He appeared to be in a daze.

They got him up, he kind of mumbled. They helped him scuffle into the stretcher. Again, that swooshing sound of the coats.

Once on the stretcher, they draped him with five straps to keep him secure. The straps also gave a sound — a similar sound to the jackets, except when pulled tight. When pulled, the straps sounded like cord being pulled taut before being knotted.

The stretcher, under its own power, rose from the ground — it sounded like a wench. When it hit its appropriate height it locked into place.

The two people, whose faces I shall never forget, cleared the path and took Dad out.

     

Apparently, large brained humans — like ourselves — existed at least half a million years earlier than prevailing scientific consensus. Skulls were discovered in China. Click here for the BBC article.

My take is this:

You and I belong to a group of animals — Homo sapiens. We are an ancient species. We persist through cooperation, tribalism, wariness of outsiders, etc. And, in spite of all the messiness that comes from being human, we still persist.

I imagine a reason we persist is because we know that we need each other to survive. And needing each other doesn’t imply rainbows and bunnies; our history acquiring labor is messy. The point is not about morality, the point is that we recognize a need for others — that we are the sum of our parts.

Another reason we might persist is due to our curiosity. Humans are naturally curious about the world around them. We are curious about each other. We are curious about what we can see and can’t see. We wonder and wander. And, we organize ourselves together to be curious collectively about things.

So what if we started becoming more curious about that which is different from us? The humans who are not like us. Pick any attribute that makes someone different from you, what prevents you from being curious about that difference? What stops you from trying to learn more about someone else? Seeing the world the way they see the world. Perhaps you might learn something about your own world.

It’s not lost on me that saying be curious about the people in other tribes is easier said than done. Some attributes of people you might hate or disgust. I recommend that you lean into those emotions — determine why you might feel that way and consider the alternative — what if you could feel a different way?

The Beatles are the sum of their parts, they are also a group that leaned into the counter-culture and asked what if. Not entirely different from ancient ancestors who, I imagine, did something similar.