The world of the materialist is a “bubble world”. Its inhabitants live inside a consumer-driven, status-obsessed bubble. Possession is key. Those who can see beyond the walls of the bubble are deemed mad & deluded. A gimpse of the truth will burst the fragile walls.
–The Running Grave by Robert Galbraith
Life is an experiment: we’re all testing hypotheses, learning from outcomes, and iterating as we go. Every choice is a variable, every experience a data point.
Venture capitalists expect some of the businesses they support to fail; if that never happens, they aren’t taking enough risks. Similarly, a government program aimed at advancing technology is bound to end up with some lemons; if it doesn’t, it’s not extending the frontier.
–Paul Krugman
Silicon Valley is not an especially friendly place, but I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else. Spectacular weather and scenery. Talent is everywhere.
Happens in the first 20 seconds. Continue to watch for lightning in cloud.
Human thought is still best described by metaphor, poetry, & other literary devices to express what we do not fully understand. Experience is a matter of sensibility & intuition, of seeing & hearing the significant things, of paying attention at the right moments.
Circumambulate the city of a dreamy Sabbath afternoon. What do you see?–Posted like silent sentinels all around the town, stand thousands upon thousands of mortal men fixed in ocean reveries.
But these are all landsmen; of week days pent up in lath and plaster–tied to counters, nailed to benches, clinched to desks.
How then is this? Are the green fields gone? What do they here? But look! here come more crowds, pacing straight for the water, and seemingly bound for a dive.
Strange! Nothing will content them but the extremest limit of the land; loitering under the shady lee of yonder warehouses will not suffice.
No. They must get just as nigh the water as they possibly can without falling in.
And there they stand–miles of them–leagues. Inlanders all, they come from lanes and alleys, streets and avenues–north, east, south, and west. Yet here they all unite.
Yes, as every one knows, meditation and water are wedded for ever.
The shadow of an eagle that had set forth from those high and craggy fastnesses crossed the line of riders below and they looked up to mark it where it rode in that brittle blue and faultless void.
Woke up, fell out of bed, dragged a comb across my head. Found my way downstairs and drank a cup and looking up I noticed I was late. Found my coat and grabbed my hat, made the bus in seconds flat. Found my way upstairs and had a smoke, and somebody spoke and I went into a dream.