Are you a mouse or a man?

On the recommendation of a friend I’ve been reading Who Moved My Cheese by Spencer Johnson. The story is essentially a little parable about how to deal with change in work and in life It involves two mice—Sniff and Scurry—and two mice sized but otherwise human creatures known as Hem and Haw and their relation to cheese. At the start of the saga, all the mice and the mice-sized people have access to cheese, and as a result are quite content. One day, however, the cheese is no longer there, although there are some questions weather in fact the cheese has in fact been decreasing over time or the drop off was sudden. In either case, the mice immediately head off in search of new cheese. But the two human like creatures are quite baffled by the whole situation, and first sit around and complain, and then analyze, and ultimately engage in some rather futile activity to bring the cheese back. Finally one of the people like creatures—Haw—decides to leave behind their previous location and, despite being afraid, goes out into the maze in search of new cheese—a task which after some effort he ultimately successfully completes. Along the way he leaves “handwriting on the wall” of the maze in the hopes his old friend Hem might read it and be encouraged,

These nuggets of wisdom are summarized at the end:
1. Change happens (they keep moving the cheese)
2. Anticipate change: Get ready for the cheese to move
3. Monitor change: Smell the old cheese so you know when it is getting old
4. Adopt to change quickly: the quicker you let go of old cheese, the sooner you can enjoy new cheese
5. Change: Move with the cheese
6. Enjoy change: savor the adventure and enjoy the new cheese
7. Be ready to change quickly (they keep moving the cheese)

This is only a sketch and an inadequate one at that of a short work I highly recommend. All I can say is this little tale went a long way towards delineating my situation, although if I were to describe myself it would be as another character “Huh?” , who has left the place where there no longer is any cheese and now wonders why he isn’t getting any cheese. Shouldn’t the fact that he moved out of the cheeseless situation be enough? Huh? asks himself. But the thing is, of course, you don’t get any cheese just by leaving the place where there was no cheese before. You have to act, and that is what I have failed to do up to this point. I am neither in the old place looking for old cheese like Hem but neither am I out exploring the maze like Haw.

metaphors and canyon swings

I take my metaphors where I can get them. And somehow, falling 110 meters into a canyon and then swinging for another couple hundred meters seemed as good a stand in as any for the leap I’ve taken in my career. To tell the truth, I was not sure what the connection was. But it was pretty clear at least the Shotover Canyon Swing in Queenstown was a physical instantiation of what I had done to my career: a jump into the abyss. I am not sure what exactly my thinking was. But I could tell you what it was not. My thinking was definitely not that if I survive this physical leap in the abyss I will be alright with the career leap. It just seemed, well, fitting, that if I was going to jump in the one situation I jump in the other. Also, I think that if you go to Rome, you see the Vatican, and if you got to Queenstown, you jump into a canyon.

So as soon as we got back from hike I made my way over to the Canyon Swing office and singed up. At this stage, the whole thing was unreal. You are putting your name on a piece of paper and paying some money. It is all theoretical courage. Even watching videos of previous leapers really could not impact my state of mind since I had not personally experienced this situation. I was told at the office that due to the lateness of my signing up I had roughly a half hour until the place closed to cancel my jump, and that they would jump in any weather.

I slept fine, again not thinking too much about it I because it all seemed unreal. But when I woke up in the morning the reality that I was going to do something incredibly stupid did it hit pretty much first thing and put me in a rather foul mood. To make things worse, it’s raining pretty steadily when I get up, and I momentarily contemplated using this as an excuse to back off, but knew really that I could not

The image I had in my mind at that time is one I saw on a biography of Buster Keaton, the silent film comedian. At one point in his career, things are really not going well: there are business troubles, women troubles. And they are out there filming a stunt where a house has to fall on him, and there is a hole where a window is that is supposed to be the spot that saves him. And they show Buster’s face as he is filming this stusnt, and you can tell he really does not care if that house fall on him. Something like that spirit was in me as I prepare for the jump. There is a real sense that the worst case scenario would not be so bad.

At the office, there are two other guys besides myself who are there to jump, one is from Amsterdam and one if from Germany. Both are young strapping guys in their twenties with girlfriends in tow. I am glad I am doing this with other guys. Yesterday as I singed up it was a group of young girls that was heading out. This just seems more fitting. The rain is coming down pretty heavily as its time to depart. We all jump into the van. Our driver is a 30-ish affable rogue named, fittingly, Kramer.

It’s only about a ten minute drive up to Shotover Canyon and on the way they show us a dvd of various styles of jumping. Kramer suggests jumping off yourself particularly if you have never done the jump because it’s more challenging than if they just cut you off. When I get there, however, I ask to be cut away, but they say that they cannot do this in the rain, although I am not sure whether they are just shitting me or not, because when I give into their reply they say, “you’re easy to convince.” I reply, it doesn’t really matter, does it.

It’s raining even more heavily and as they ask who wants to go first I volunteer, figuring the rain will only get worse. Plus I think if I wait around I might consider backing out. So they hook me up and I am not really listening to what they are saying but when we get to the edge Kramer and his co-worker start to banter with me, joking about hitting the water, the solidity of land. I mention my philosophy books and in particular the one about stoicism and how it teaches you to maintain control in all circumstances and they mention that this will give me a chance to practice what I preach. They briefly try to talk me into a jump called the “pinhead” which they claim I can use on the back cover of my next book, but I demur and say I will simply step off. They hook me up the cable, pull away the safety rope and it’s time to go. I say, you just step off and they say, yes and that’s exactly what I do

And before I know it I am flying, with my eyes closed. It is like a dream, really and I would not be surprised to wake up in my bed, but instead I am jerked to a stop and then start swinging across the canyon and soon am being hauled back up to the top. On return, someone mentions it was the most blasé step off they had ever seen.

New Zealand

Been in New Zeland this past week, hiking the Milford Track for most of that time and so cut off from civilization. Returning to Queenstown, the place seems overwhelmed by students onb break. Man, if you ever want to feel old, come to Queenstown in December. Anyway, fuller report later. Bungee jumping tomorrow. So if the blog suddenly ends, you will know why.

Moore commentary cont.

Curretnltly ont a two week trip to New Zealand with my sister. However, I brought along a kindle version of Moore's book and my netbook (yeah, I know, something perverted about bringing this stuff on a vacation, along with my ipod). So I will offer up some commentary on Moore's text as I work my way through it.

“A calling is the sense that you are on this earth for a reason, that you have a destiny, no matter how great or small. Those who look at life more soberly might question whether such an attitude is warranted. It may seem naïve. But the sense of calling doesn’t necessarily require belief in the supernatural and it doesn’t have to be naïve. A calling is a sensation or intuition that life wants something from you.”

--Let me begin by saying I am sure a lot of people feel this sense of calling about academia. And if you are one of them, then god bless and stay right where you are. Or you might believe the whole sense of calling is a “crock” and you just want a steady job that gives you security, a decent pay check and a fair amount of time off. Not that there’s anything wrong with this. All I can say is that in my own situation it was not the case that I felt a sense of calling in academia, and I am unfortunate enough to believe in such things. Through my own experience and from talking to numerous colleagues, I know that academics are constantly complaining about some element or other with regard to their job. In this, they are no different than workers in countless other professions. And to be sure, there is plenty to complain about.

But yet, not everyone feels that way about their job. One of the many “signs” I came across when travelling last spring and summer and trying to sort some things out was a lunch (well, not actually a lunch because we were at a fasting resort. More like our daily broth). I sat and listened as these two women described jobs they were committed to and that could certainly qualify as noble callings. One was working in the Palestinian territories for the UN educating children; the other had just quit her job at a law firm in London and was going back to the States to work for some organization that would advocate for justice on behalf of third world women. It’s not that I felt embarrassed at being a college professor, and I did have the two years of Peace Corps service I was coming off of. But I felt there was a way to contribute to the world through one’s occupation, and I am not sure most people in academia have that sense. Or I should say at least I did not have that sense, and I knew I wanted my job to contribute to some higher good. I felt that in a way with the Peace Corps, though there are obviously difficulties with this organization in general and with what they are doing in China in particular. But there heart is in the right place, and that was a direction I needed to go.

More Moore

I thought that in addition to quoting from Moore's work I would also post some of my thoughts on these quotes.

"The concrete, visible, material world speaks to us, if we would only listen. You don't have to do exactly what the signs indicate, but it would help to consider them in evaluating the status of your work life. For example, if you are failingin a particular line of work, your difficulty may not mean that you are lacking or at fault, but that you are in the wrong profession."

Comment: Certainly, the fact is that I was not flourishing as an academic. From the start, I knew I was not able to do the sort of academic writing that would be necessary to succeed in this arena. It really did not take long for me to determine this fact. Hell, I probably knew it before I even got my first job. But yet I kept at the academic writing for a number of years. And then when I switched to doing the sort of writing that I found more enjoyable, I did it with the sense that those doing the academic writing are all screwed up and with more than a little resentment over the ability to succeed and further careers as a result of this writing. If I had listened, I might have taken my inability to succeed in the sort of activity that was a prerequisite for advancement in my chosen profession as a sign that perhaps this was not the profession for me. And it was not only the publishing part of academia that gave me difficulty. Although I had my moments in worked hard at it, I never particularly enjoyed teaching. It always seemed to me more than a little ironic that those who go into a profession because they liked reading and study--basically introverts--had to make their living by engaging in an extremely extraverted activity. So my lack of ability in academic writing combined with my unease at teaching would have been one of the ways in which the concrete world was speaking--and I was not listening

A Life at Work

I've been reading Thomas Moore's A Life at Work: The Joy of Doscovering What you Were Born to Do. You may remember him from Care of the Soul. The focus of his most recent book should be obvious from the title. Using the model of the alchemist, he lays out a strategy by which one can go about the quest for one's lifework the way the alchemist would search for the philosopher's gold. Perhaps not the best model, since what the alchemists were after was delusional. But the seriousness of one's quest should not be obscured by the impossibility of achieiving it, else we are all screwed. Here is one quote to give you the general flavor of the work: "Doing work that has not soul is the great hidden malady of our time. Clearly, it would be worth our while as individuals and as a society to address unhappiness at work and discover the deep roots of our discontent. The anceint art of alchemy shows a way: Pay attention to your deep and complex interior life, become more sensitive about relationships, consider your past thoughtfully, and use your imagnation at its full power. Work from teh ground up toward finding the work that will make your life worthwhile"

So far I am enjoying the book quite a bit and will give a fuller report later on. For now I would put this work with What Color is Your Parachute and Po Bronson's What Should I Do With My LIfe as must reads for anyone embarked on a journey for a meaningful career.

Pumpkins and velvet cushions

A line from Thoreau pops into my head. This is not an unusual thing to have happen. I have relied on his words for more then thirty years. When some people say that writing does not matter, I think of how many times it is the written word that has gotten me through a night. I recall reading somewhere that Bobby Kennedy was aided through the period after his brother’s death by the Greek tragedians and the Existentialists. Just so, Thoreau is one of those sources I draw on in order to make it through a particularly tough time.

The quote I have in mind is his claim that he would rather sit on a pumpkin and have it all to himself than be crowded on a velvet cushion. Academia was quite a velvet cushion. Short days, long vacations, good pay, secure position. But there was a sense in which I always felt like a misfit. Certainly I did not shine in academia, but I would argue it is because my talents are not really those designed to shine in academia. Writing the sort of stuff that will get you noticed in academia was just not part of my personality. For a while I tried but and even published in this vein. But in the end, I chose another route, chose to write stuff that was more likely to reach a general audience. I don’t say that was either good or bad. It was simply where my interest and I think my ability lay. And while I did o.k. as a teacher, this is not the best position for an introvert, and in some ways it simply went against my grain.

So now I am out on my own. There is not the shelter and safety of academia, not the business card that explains who you are, not the easy answer to the question, “what do you do?” More importantly, not the income nor the benefits. As a result I will have to live a much simpler life, and in some ways a harder life. I have no illusion about what has been lost.But in focusing on Thoreau I can turn my attention to what has been gained. Thoreau tells the story of an Indian who, when he someone refused to buy his basket replied, “what, do you mean us to starve.” Thoreau wanted his life to be where he did not have to sell his baskets. And I guess that is where I am headed.