Category: Understanding life and the world

Big ideas and analysis related to life and the world. This is where I become philosophical and tend towards guru-ness.

Socks, Drawers, Tidying and Packaging [en]

[fr] Comment une histoire de rangement d'habits m'amène à accepter que j'apprécie le soin porté à l'apparence.

Right at the beginning of 2016, I stumbled upon this article, which in turn led me to this one, which in turn led me to read The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up by Marie Kondo.

It’s a short book. But, like Sarah Knight, it didn’t take me long to reorganise my sock drawer. I kid you not. Those who know me will be aware I am a proponent of minimum viable tidying. My place isn’t a dump (some hotspots are), but it’s not the tidiest place around and I definitely have way too much stuff.

Tidy Socks

I’m a long-time fan of A Perfect Mess, and Marie Kondo clearly takes the antithetic approach, with a cult of tidiness, order, and organisation which goes way too far for me. I was surprised, as a person who has never held tidiness or neatness in high regard, to find that I was very much drawn to the ideal she describes in her book. I dream of a life with pared-down possessions, where everything has a place, where my t-shirts and underwear are artfully folded in their drawers, where everything is under control.

Control. This is the draw. We crave control in an often misguided attempt to relieve our anxiety. This is not completely stupid: having control on our environment does make us feel better. Less moving parts are easier to feel in control of, one reason maybe why I regularly fantasise about a simpler life, and why we relax better on vacation (away from everything, life is indeed simpler).

So, if I’m not ready to let go of the belief that having a little bit of mess in our lives can be a good thing, what am I taking away from The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up? Quite a few things, to be honest, and in a way, it probably has already been life-changing for me.

The first thing I’m keeping is a precious tool to help me part with things: Marie Kondo advises starting with the easiest (hence socks) and emptying everything on the floor, before taking each item in your hands and asking “does it spark joy?” — I’m not too big on the formula, but I really like the idea. Does this object make me happy? Or does it make me feel guilty, bad, indifferent? There are a few things to unpack here.

  1. I like the idea of surrounding yourself with stuff that makes you happy.
  2. I like the idea of choosing what to keep rather than choosing what to part with.
  3. I like the idea of honing one’s parting skills with easy things first.

Number 2. up here reminds me of a packing tip I read long ago, I think it was on Tara Hunt’s blog (can’t find it anymore, and can’t find it on my blog either, though I’m sure I blogged about it at some point). It went something like this:

Instead of asking “can this be useful?” ask “might I be in big trouble if I don’t pack this?”

It changed my way of packing forever. The shift from “can it be useful” to “do I really need it” was really an eye-opener for me.

And Marie Kondo’s “spark joy?” test does the same thing. Instead of choosing things to throw out, I’m choosing what I keep. She also has some interesting thoughts about how to part with objects. Consider what their purpose has been in your life, thank them for it, and send them on their way to where they can fulfil their new purpose. In a very Shinto way of viewing life, Marie Kondo animates objects in a way that makes sense to me.

In that same vein, another takeaway for me is greeting your home when you come back. I’m not sure if I’ll actually do it, but I like the idea of projecting some kind of “personhood” into one’s living space. I just realised that I’ve been doing this for 20 years when I go judo training: we greet the dojo when we enter.

Another major take-away has to do with clothes. I was sure I’d blogged about my desire to try putting together a seasonal capsule wardrobe, but again, I don’t seem to have done it. (Senility? I keep thinking I’ve blogged things but I haven’t. I blame Facebook. For thinking I’ve blogged when I haven’t. For the capsule wardrobe, I blame Andrea.) So, yes, keeping clothes I like, rather than based on criteria like “does it fit”, that makes sense. And then, drawers. Yes, think about it: shelves suck. You can’t access what’s at the back. Piles fall down with time. And my IKEA PAX cupboards actually have drawers that I can buy and stick in them. Done. Ordered. My clothes will live vertically from now on.

I’ve already put this in practice at the chalet, where I’m staying now. I brought some dividers to tidy up my drawers, and have been experimenting with folding my clothes so they can be stacked vertically side-by-side in the drawer. What a revelation! This is similar to when I learned how to take off my socks properly.

I had honestly never given any thought to how I remove my socks. I don’t wear them half the year, anyway. But I did pester against balled-up socks in the laundry. The day I discovered the technique for removing socks without balling them up or turning them inside-out, all became clear to me: with no effort, from one day to the other, I changed the way I remove my socks — never to look back.

I can feel something similar going on with how I fold my clothes. I’ve never thought much about how I fold my clothes. I just fold them, and pile them up on top of one another. Like I was taught. Or hang them. Now a new world is opening up to me, one where I can pull out a drawer and immediately see all the clothes in it, without having to dig through a pile that inevitably topples over at some point.

The most surprising thing is that I’ve found myself quickly folding my clothes and putting them back in the drawer at the end of the day, instead of just letting them pile up somewhere random — on top of the chest of drawers or on the hooks behind the door. Folding is quick, and they have a place, so putting them there is a no-brainer.

Clothes folded in drawer

I think my future looks like tidy, organised drawers.

But this isn’t just about clothes. You see, I’m realising that I actually enjoy seeing a drawer full of neatly stacked underwear or t-shirts when I open it, rather than a big mess.

I have to admit it: I care about appearance.

This is a big thing.

You see, officially, I don’t care about what I call “packaging”. What’s important is what’s inside, right? Who cares if you make things look all pretty, as long as what you’re selling is good? Their true value should suffice.

I’m not interested in — or good at — making things “look good”. I don’t really do it for myself, either: forget make-up, and clothing is practical. I do my nails, dye my lashes and eyebrows, wear jewellery and have a good hairdresser, but that’s it. In my professional life, my disdain of packaging has long been a pain-point: I’m sure it costs me, compared to others who are great at packaging (and might not even have as much substance underneath the shiny wrapping).

I have a kind of snobbishness about it, though I’ve never really managed to pinpoint its origin: don’t let yourself be blinded by the packaging, see the value of what’s inside, blah blah blah.

But it’s hypocritical, because I’m expecting other people to not pay attention to something that I, as a person/consumer, pay attention to.

I appreciate it when people dress well and have good haircuts. I appreciate products and services that are nicely packaged. I love the box my iDevices come in. One of the reasons I use OSX is that it looks good, and I’m staring at it all day, right? When I buy home-made syrup my friend here in Gryon makes, I love the little labels she puts on the bottles. I like wrapping on presents. I like the card the vet sends me for Christmas. I like the pretty price-list my nail stylist has on her door.

However, when it’s my turn to do it, it doesn’t feel worth the trouble. For others, obviously, and for myself — and I’m not talking about self-grooming here. I love my flat, for example, but have never put up anything on the walls, though it’s been on my to-do list for 15 years and I would enjoy having pretty things around. Because it doesn’t feel that important. Because I don’t think I care. I don’t think I should care.

But I do.

And this is what this whole clothes-folding-stacking business is opening my eyes to: despite my official stance on the matter, I do enjoy pretty things. I do value packaging. I feel I am allowing myself to connect to something I have most of the time forbidden myself from acknowledging: there is pleasure to be found in being surrounded by things that look nice — and there is also, therefore, pleasure to be found in making things look attractive.

For me, and for others.

Faire les choses pour soi [fr]

[en] With less anxiety in my life in general, and at a professional crossroads which asks for work on projects which delay gratification more than I am used to (which is not much), I find myself struggling to make progress. I love doing things for others, but find it hard to put as much energy into things for myself.

Dans cette période “entre-mandats” où je suis en train de réfléchir à réorienter la façon dont je présente mes activités professionnelles (et probablement par la même occasion les recadrer), je me retrouve aux prises avec un des “challenges de ma vie”: avancer, faire, sans que ce soit directement pour quelqu’un d’autre ou un objectif gratifiant immédiat.

Heavy Load

Je m’appelle Stephanie, j’ai 41 ans, et je suis encore accro à la satisfaction immédiate.

Je me suis déjà cassé le nez sur ce problème de fonctionnement à l’époque où j’écrivais mon mémoire (enfin, où je ne l’écrivais pas, surtout). Depuis, j’ai fait beaucoup de chemin, et c’est clair que 10 ans d’indépendance professionnelle m’ont obligés à trouver des stratégies. Mais quand même.

J’écris volontiers sur impulsion (pour ce blog principalement), mais beaucoup plus difficilement sur commande.
Je fais volontiers quelque chose qui a un effet visible rapidement (ce qui fait de moi une “faiseuse” — allez, hop, trêve de blablas, passons à l’action!), mais je traîne les pieds pour les choses importantes et invisibles (bonjour, compta).
J’aime passer du temps “dans le moment”, à parler avec des gens, mais je me décourage vite lorsqu’il s’agit de travail de longue haleine.

Certes, je suis capable de persévérer, ce n’est pas le désastre total, sinon je n’aurais jamais survécu professionnellement ni personnellement. Mais je paie le prix par le stress de dernière minute (faire les choses dans l’urgence — relative) et les opportunités non poursuivies (le fameux livre, ça vous rappelle quelque chose?

Mon moteur principal pour faire les choses est, il me semble, faire plaisir ou rendre service aux autres. J’aime être utile. J’ai dû apprendre à dire “non”, d’abord aux autres, puis à moi-même, et je prends donc mes engagements de façon plus maîtrisée et réaliste, mais mon premier élan est toujours de me porter volontaire, d’aider autrui, de dépanner. Beaucoup de mes rapports aux autres reposent sur ça, d’ailleurs. En gros, pour dire les choses de façon un peu triviale, je veux qu’on m’aime. Et dans mon monde, on est apprécié parce qu’on est utile. (Oui, je sais, je sais…)

Corollaire, l’angoisse-moteur. A la base, je suis suis quelqu’un qui fonctionne à l’angoisse. Quand j’ai le couteau sous la gorge, que le délai me chauffe les talons, que je sais que je vais m’attirer des ennuis si “je le fais pas”, je fais. Vous aurez fait le lien: si je ne rends pas service, on ne va pas m’aimer, donc je veux rendre service. La peur n’apparaît pas en surface dans ce cas de figure (j’ai vraiment envie de rendre service), mais qu’on ne se leurre pas, elle est là, dessous, tapie.

Il y des degrés aussi chez les spécialistes de la dernière minute: je n’ai jamais fait de nuit blanche pour rendre un séminaire d’uni le lendemain à 8h que j’aurais fini de taper à 7h10. Par contre, je me suis retrouvée plus d’une fois à faire mon impression finale à 1h du matin. Idem avec les impôts et la compta: toujours en retard, toujours à la bourre, mais jamais vraiment dans les ennuis. Et pas de nuits blanches non plus. Je tire sur la corde, mais pas jusqu’à ce qu’elle casse.

Alors, aujourd’hui?

Aujourd’hui il se passe deux choses:

  • d’une part, mon moteur “angoisse” est moins actif — je suis simplement moins angoissée dans ma vie (c’est bien!), mais du coup j’ai “perdu” ce bénéfice, cette force (pas très saine) qui me poussait en avant
  • d’autre part, comme déjà évoqué plus haut, je suis à ce carrefour professionnel où je n’ai pas de gros mandats immédiats en cours, et où j’ai justement l’opportunité d’investir du temps pour faire des choses comme présenter mon activité autrement, mettre sur pied des produits, réaliser (enfin) ces fameux cours en ligne auxquels je pense depuis 5 ans, etc.

Par rapport à la perte du “moteur angoisse”: beaucoup de gens fonctionnent avec ce moteur. C’est très courant. Ce n’est pas idéal, mais c’est comme ça. Dans mon cas, ma “désangoisse” est quelque chose auquel j’aspire (et travaille) depuis de longues années. Ça porte ses fruits. Je vis mieux mon quotidien. Je me sens bien, dans l’ensemble. Bref, je ne suis plus si angoissée. Je me sens plus en paix avec ma vie, j’ai moins peur des gens, j’ai des rapports sociaux plus chaleureux au quotidien.

Mais le revers de la médaille, c’est que je n’ai plus “mon moteur”, et que je n’ai pas encore réussi à le remplacer par un autre. Idéalement, on s’investirait au quotidien dans les projets et activités qui ont un sens par rapport à ce qu’on veut faire de notre vie. Que désire-t-on accomplir, faire, ou comment désire-t-on vivre, pour pouvoir, à l’heure de notre dernier souffle, quitter ce monde sans trop de regrets? Quel est le sens de notre vie, quelles sont nos valeurs, quelle est notre mission? Ça peut être faire la fête, hein, ça n’a pas besoin d’être sauver le monde.

C’est là que je bats un peu de l’aile. Je peine à me projeter, je peine à savoir quel est mon sens. Je peine à accrocher ma charrue à mes désirs à long terme, à faire aujourd’hui ce qui m’apportera des fruits dans le futur — la fameuse gratification différée.

Et de retour de quatre semaines de vacances où j’ai pu vivre comme un petit papillon, sans obligations, portée par les envies de l’instant, je suppose que c’est d’autant plus dur.

J’aimerais être capable de mettre autant d’énergie avec aussi peu d’effort dans ce que je fais pour moi que dans ce que je fais pour les autres.

Si vous avez ce profil papillon-procrastinateur et que vous êtes parvenus à le surmonter pour mettre votre énergie dans des projets ou activités à long terme, j’avoue que je suis curieuse d’entendre votre histoire.

Du judo à la vie [fr]

[en] Understanding how 20 years on the judo mats wondering how I can make somebody want to put their foot here instead of there, and why I I put my foot there instead of here, might have something to do with my interest in UX, and more importantly, the subtext of a lot of my professional activities: always asking why somebody would do what we expect or want them to do (e.g. sign up for a blogger outreach activity), making sure they have a real interest in doing so, and also, putting myself in the shoes of users or readers.

Je suis en train de reprendre l’entrainement après de longs mois d’interruption pour cause de divers bobos. C’est marrant, car durant mon “arrêt” je n’ai pas eu le sentiment que le judo m’avait manqué des masses, mais en reprenant, qu’est-ce que j’ai eu du plaisir à pratiquer à nouveau!

Et peut-être grâce à ces mois de recul ou de distanciation, j’ai mis le doigt sur un lien judo-vie qui m’avait complètement échappé jusqu’ici. Parce qu’il y a toujours cette réflexion, au fond: mis à part me “défouler” et me faire transpirer, qu’est-ce que j’apprends ou intègre sur les tapis que je mets ensuite en pratique à l’extérieur du dojo?

Portes ouvertes au Reighikan Dojo

On entraînait des entrées. Le timing. Etre réceptif à l’autre. Et là, d’un coup, j’ai fait un lien tellement évident que je ne comprends pas pourquoi je ne l’ai jamais vu avant. Enfin si, je comprends pourquoi. Mais ça fait plaisir de mettre le doigt dessus.

Dans mon activité professionnelle, une compétence que j’exerce beaucoup c’est de me mettre à la place de l’autre. On aurait tendance à appeler ça de l’empathie, mais c’est un peu différent. C’est plus: pourquoi l’autre ferait-il ce qu’on attend de lui? Quelle est sa motivation? Vu les circonstances, comment va-t-il agir? J’ai aussi un intérêt marqué pour l’UX (l’expérience utilisateur), sans en être une spécialiste.

Mais quand je travaille avec des clients pour réfléchir à comment ils pourraient utiliser les médias sociaux, avec qui ils cherchent à entrer en relation, je ne perds jamais cette question de vue: qu’est-ce que notre “setup” va encourager l’autre à faire? Que pouvons-nous changer pour l’inviter à agir autrement?

C’est du judo.

Quand on fait du judo, on passe notre temps à essayer de faire en sorte que l’autre avance le pied ici, recule le pied là, se place ainsi ou au contraire comme ça, nous donne un bras plutôt que l’autre, afin de pouvoir entrer les techniques qui nous réussissent le mieux. On n’a cesse de “tendre des pièges”, en quelque sorte, pour contrôler sans en avoir l’air le comportement de l’autre. Je n’aime pas les mots que je viens d’utiliser, je précise, parce que si on sort ça du contexte du judo, ça a des relents de sinistre manipulation.

Mais ça va plus loin: si mon partenaire/adversaire “sent” que je veux lui faire avancer le pied, il ne le fera pas. Je dois être subtile. Inviter plutôt que contraindre. En fait, créer une situation telle qu’il ait envie d’avancer le pied.

Dans le contexte du combat, on fait tout ça pour pouvoir faire tomber l’autre, “gagner”. Dans la vie et dans mon travail, je ne vois pas les choses comme ça. Il s’agit plutôt d’être sensible à leurs intérêts. Il y a un jeu d’équilibrisme, là. Pourquoi est-ce que quelqu’un s’abonnerait à ma newsletter? Quel intérêt aurait-il à participer à ce que je mets en place? Pourquoi aurait-il envie de s’inscrire?

Ces questions me paraissent triviales, elles me viennent naturellement. Mais j’ai réalisé que ce n’était pas le cas pour tout le monde. Et là, réalisant que ça fait 20 ans que j’applique ça sur les tapis, je me dis que ce n’est peut-être pas pour rien.

J’ai fait un deuxième constat hier soir. C’était le premier, en fait. C’est le corollaire de ce que je viens d’expliquer.

Quand on apprend le judo, et qu’on pratique contre plus “fort” que soi, on tombe. On tombe beaucoup. Au début on ne comprend pas ce qui nous arrive. On ne voit rien. Puis, avec le temps, on commence à se voir tomber. On ne peut pas plus éviter la chute, mais au moins on sait sur quelle technique on est tombé. Puis on prend conscience de “l’erreur” qu’on a faite qui a permis l’entrée de l’autre, sans pour autant pouvoir l’éviter. Mais bon sang, pourquoi j’ai avancé encore ce fichu pied?

On passe beaucoup de temps à analyser ses actions, à se demander pourquoi on a fait ceci plutôt que cela. Ce qui nous a incité à le faire. En somme, on applique à nous-mêmes ce que je décris plus haut.

Dans ma vie professionnelle, je crois que c’est la même compétence que celle qui me permet de donner du feedback “éclairé” sur les services que j’utilise. Je sais à la fois m’observer “agir naturellement” et analyser pourquoi je le fais. Hier ou avant-hier, je testais un nouveau service développé par une connaissance. A un moment donné, je me suis retrouvée gênée par le comportement de l’application. J’ai eu un sentiment interne de rejet, et je me suis demandé pourquoi. Et j’ai trouvé: un pop-up qui ne disparaissait pas comme “je m’y attendais”, et qui de plus recouvrait l’endroit où je désirais ensuite cliquer. Je ne rentre pas plus dans les détails, mais c’est le même état d’esprit que “m’enfin, pourquoi j’ai avancé le pied?” C’est aussi le même état d’esprit que l’analyse de texte, que j’ai aussi énormément pratiquée durant mes études (au point que je dis aux gens que j’ai le module “analyse de texte” activé en permanence): pourquoi ce texte suscite-t-il en moi telle émotion, telle réaction? Comment cela s’explique-t-il au niveau mécanique, narration, linguistique?

Je pense que nos compétences sont un mélange de prédisposition (inné) et de répétition (acquis). J’ai déjà fait souvent des liens entre mes études (histoire et sciences des religions, philo, français) et mes compétences professionnelles, mais je ne l’avais jusqu’ici pas vraiment fait pour le judo. Mais c’est clair qu’il doit y en avoir. On ne passe pas 20 ans sur des tatamis, plusieurs heures par semaine, sans que ça contribue à nous faire qui nous sommes.

This American Life Episode Selection [en]

[fr] Quelques épisodes de This American Life qui valent le détour.

I had my worst “forgot something on the stove” episode today. No fire, but I came back after three hours away to find my flat completely filled with smoke. I had to hold my breath to open the windows (everything was closed). My pan is dead (I’m not even going to try). Quintus was outside but Tounsi was inside, and was exposed to the smoke for all that time. One of the first things I did after opening the first window was throw him onto the balcony. He seems fine. Vet say to keep an eye on him for the next two days or so, as symptoms can be delayed.

Now my whole flat stinks of burnt smoke. Good thing it’s not January, as a friend noted.

Some podcast episodes for you. (And me, maybe one day). They are from This American Life, which I listened to a lot at the chalet. It’s really great — I should have started listening years ago.

  • #536: The Secret Recordings of Carmen Segarra: a chilling first-person account of the culture of complacency in the world of finance regulation.
  • #525: Call for Help: remember this story that was making the rounds, about a family that had to be rescued at sea because of a sick baby? and how a lot of the (uninformed) public opinion was up in arms about how irresponsible it was to go to sea with a baby, and then ask the coast guards to bail you out when things got rough? Well, as you can guess, there is much more to the story than that…
  • #555: The Incredible Rarity of Changing Your Mind: so, one of the studies this episode is based on has been retracted, but it remains interesting. First, to note that people rarely change their mind, particularly on ideological matters. And then, and this is something I think about a lot, what makes people change their mind? We do have anecdotal evidence that knowing somebody who is gay (or trans, or kinky…) can turn us around on those issues. And I think that people’s theoretical stance on an issue can be somewhat disconnected from what they would think, or how they would react, faced with a real human being they have a connection with and who is concerned by the issue.
  • #556: Same Bed, Different Dreams: for the very moving story of the two kidnapped South Koreans, the actress and the director.
  • #557: Birds & Bees: how do we talk to children about race, death, and sex? Some very good questions about consent and its “fuzziness” (I personally don’t think we should have to say “is it OK if I kiss you?” and wait for an enthusiastic verbal “yes” — seriously?!), how you can’t escape the question of race, and a moving segment on a grief counselling centre for children. If I could go back in time, I would take my 10-year-old self there. Sadly, we weren’t quite there yet 30 years ago when it comes to grief and children.
    By the way, this episode brings me to Death, Sex & Money — a podcast about all these things we don’t talk about.
  • #562 and #563: The Problem We All Live With (two parts): how do we reinvent education to get poor minority kids to perform as well as white kids? An exploration of the solution that works, but that we’re not putting much energy into implementing: desegregation. I found this episode both fascinating and infuriating. Fascinating because issues of race are not on the forefront in Switzerland as they are in the US, and infuriating that such a simple elegant solution is not given the attention and resources it deserves.

 

Bad Cat Photos (And Links. Non-Cat Links.) [en]

[fr] Des liens. Surtout.

I still haven’t found the magic solution to grab interesting links on-the-fly and collect them for a future blog post. I easily share to facebook, G+ and Twitter from any device. Anything shared on Twitter ends up in delicious, and so does everything shared to facebook (albeit privately). I stuff things in Pocket when I don’t have time to read them and the tabs start piling up. I’ve started sticking things in Pocket that I have read but want to blog about. It’s going to be messy.

The Basket is a Little Tight

I hardly got through the first item in my notes with my last post. So, sorry for the somewhat stream-of-consciousness blogging. Welcome inside my head.

A facebook friend of mine asked us what we thought about couples who have shared email or facebook accounts. The reactions were mostly swift and strong: eeeeeeew! Mine was too.

Online, your account is your identity. Are you “one” with your significant other? Joint accounts, for me, point to symbiotic relationships, which I really don’t consider healthy. Are you nothing without your SO? Do you have no individuality or identity aside from “spouse of”?

This reminds me of how in certain communities the “second” of a couple (ie, not the primary member of the community) sometimes feels a bit like a satellite-person, using the “primary” as a proxy for interacting with the rest of the community. This bothers me.

It bothers me all the more that the “second” is (oh surprise) generally the woman of the couple. It’s a man’s world, isn’t it, and women just tag along. Enough said. A bit of reading. Not necessarily related. And in no particular order.

In “offline” news, I’ve been redoing some of the furniture in my living-room. (“Cheese sandwich”, here we come.) One part of trying to solve Tounsi’s indoor spraying problem is getting rid of the furniture he irremediably soiled, and that was the opportunity for some changes.

New Furniture

The picture is bad, but you see the idea. Huge cat tree on one side, and “cat ladder” created out of two LACK bookshelves from IKEA (don’t put all the shelves in). More for Tounsi than for Quintus, clearly, who is more comfy in the ground-level basket I brought back with him from England three years ago. His elbows aren’t what they used to be, so jumping down from anywhere is a bit of a pain.

Basket for Quintus

Yes, today comes with a lot of bad cat photos. Sorry.

Anyway, I had to remove all my books from my bookcase to move it over one metre, which gave me the opportunity to start sorting, now that I’ve gone all digital with my kindle. I’m finding it very liberating. All those kilogrammes of books I’ve been carrying with me for 20 years! I can now feel free to let go of all but the most meaningful or precious. My Calibre library only takes up space on my hard drive — and hardly any.

(The WordPress editor is doing horrible things to the formatting in this post. My apologies.)

Fuzzy Vision [en]

[fr] Encore du vrac!

Watch, if you haven’t watched it yet, the video on managing unconscious bias at Facebook.

And, just because I thought of it right now this second, this documentary on Yusuf Islam, the artist formerly known as Cat Stevens. He tells a very moving story of his religious journey, from the early days when he was “a pop star” to now. (Remember the “Salman Rushdie incident“? Not surprisingly, it’s not what you thought it was, just like the story of the lady suing McDonald’s for spilling hot coffee on her lap is not what you thought.)

“Note to Self” was formerly called “New Tech City“, and it’s a podcast on the human side of the digital world. Exactly what has been of interest to me these last fifteen years. I recently liked this episode about reading. There are two different types of reading skills we need to develop in today’s world:

  • slow reading: the type we learned at school and practiced before the internet. Reading a novel. Reading complex, complicated stuff we need to digest.
  • skim & skip reading: the type we do online, always interrupted, always jumping off to something new, going through large quantities of information quickly.

Both need training. But our brain adapts to the second type so well… we need to remember to practice the first type. It will come back. I still read books (Kindle…) and I’m going to make sure I set aside some regular phoneless reading time in future.

Hiking yesterday, I realised that there really is a technique to walking on a mountain trail. Specially going downhill. I don’t know how I learned this, if somebody taught me or if I figured it out alone. Shift weight gently, don’t just dump all your weight on the next foot as soon as it hits the ground. Do it in a way that you can backtrack if you start slipping. Remember your knees (and ankles) are there to absorb shock (too many concussions have taught me to be sensitive to this). So bend your knees. Don’t plonk your foot down with a locked knee.

Vue depuis le Chamossaire

And when it’s too steep, or there is a really big step to go down, and your back leg is not willing (or strong enough) to let you down gently? Squat first on both legs. Then take a step down from that squatting position. Easy!

Fuzzy eye? Articles need titles, don’t they. I seem to have managed to sunburn one of my eyes two days ago, and my vision out of it is still fuzzy. Probably nothing serious, but as it’s about an eye, I’ll do what my vet says and not mess around. Doctor today or tomorrow.

A Patchwork Post From The Chalet [en]

[fr] Plein de choses en vrac. Y'a des liens qui mènent vers des trucs en français.

I keep falling into this trap. I don’t blog about something because there is something else, more important, that I should blog about before and haven’t got around to writing.

In this case, it’s the fact that just over a week ago, I finally got to see Joan Baez live on stage. I’ve been listening to her since I was seven or so. I know most of her songs. I’ve always listened to her. And a few years ago I decided that I should really go and see her live soon, because, you know, she’s not getting any younger, and at some point people who spend their lives touring and singing on stage might decide that they want to stay at home and paint instead.

Joan Baez at Paléo

And she was coming to Paléo, in Nyon, just next door. I think I cried during the whole show — not from sadness, just from too much emotion. I was glad to be there that evening, because it was the evening to witness, with Patti Smith and Robert Plant, too. Isn’t it strange how somebody can be such an important part of your life (the soundtrack of many of my years, like Chris de Burgh) — and yet they have no idea you exist?

If you’ve never listened to Joan Baez, just dive into YouTube.

During the drive to the chalet a story came up on the podcast I was listening to which is exactly about that. The Living Room, a story from the podcast Love + Radio, which I’m going to add to my listening list as soon as I have a good enough data connection.

I finished reading “So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed” by Jon Ronson, after devouring “The Psychopath Test” these last weeks. It’s a great book. Anybody spending time online should read it. It’s important. With great power comes great responsibility, but we the people on Twitter and Facebook are not aware of the power we wield. The power to destroy lives. To get the gist of it, use 17 minutes of your life to watch Jon’s TED Talk.

My reading of this book coincides with the unleashing of online fury over the killing of Cecil the Lion. It has disturbed me deeply. I feel an urge to dig through my archives and see what my reactions to Jonah Lehrer and Justine Sacco were, because I remember the stories. I’m worried of what I may find. I will be watching myself closely in future.

I also find myself shy in speaking up against those piling on against Cecil’s killer. Oh, he has done wrong. And I have no love for hunters, and no love for hunters of big cats. But what is missing here is proportionality. And I am scared that by speaking up I will find myself faced with a wall of “you’re either with us or against us”, ie, if you don’t join the mob then you’re defending the killing of lions. Just the way last year I was accused of “encouraging pedophiles” and whatnot because I was opposed to a stupid piece of “anti-pedophile” legislation. To some extent, I feel like I have let myself be silenced. Parallels to be drawn with the harassment episode I went through earlier this year (more on that, someday, probably).

This interview of Jon Ronson for On The Media also gives a very good summary of his book.

(My only gripe with Jon Ronson and his book is that a blog is not a post, dammit!)

Two local newspaper articles made me react today on Facebook (they’re in French). One about “the ideal age to conceive” for women, and one about a carer who got bitten by a Komodo dragon at the Lausanne Vivarium.

The first made me jump up because alongside statistics saying “if you want three kids you should get to work at this age” we find things like “you still have a 40% chance of conceiving at 40” and “don’t worry, it’s still quite possible to have children after 37”. Well, at 40 your chances of success through IVF are more around 10-15% — I’m curious where that “40%” comes from, and what it’s supposed to mean. Certainly not “4 attempts to conceive out of 10 succeed” but more “4 women out of 10 who are ‘trying’ (define that) succeed”. Another topic that’s keeping me from blogging about other stuff, because I have so much more to write about not having children. Well, you’ll get it in tidbits, it seems.

As for the second, well, I was expecting a “scare” piece. “Look, the dangerous animal.” Or “look, another negative story for the Vivarium” (which was running out of funding a couple of years ago). To my surprise the article was really good (edit: wow! they seem to have changed the title!), with the carer explaining how she was actually responsible for how the animal had reacted, and that showed how affectionate she was towards it despite the bite. I realised that reading the title had prepared me for “bad journalism”. But going back to it, the title was quite neutral: “Vivarium carer bitten by komodo dragon”. And so I wonder: how could the title have been better? Tricky.

Up in the mountains, in my chalet with almost no data connection, it’s easy to slow down and “do nothing”. A couple of weeks ago I decided I was going to consciously try and do less things in parallel, both on a micro and a macro level. Monotask more, multitask less. Try and keep my number of “open projects” under control. My podcast-hopping brought me to the “Bored and Brilliant Boot Camp” episode the other day. It really drove home the fact that my brain needs downtime. Bored time. And probably a holiday (I haven’t had a “real holiday” (= with no work to do) in much too long, and I’m starting to feel it. How did that happen? I thought I was over that.) So now, I’m paying more attention to where my phone is, and trying to keep it more in my bag and less in my hand, more in the other room and less just next to me.

That’s it for today, folks. My plan is to write again tomorrow. Or the day after. Let’s see if it materialises.

A Post About Many Things [en]

[fr] Des choses en vrac!

It happened again. As time goes by and things to say pile up, the pile weighs heavy on my fingers and blog posts don’t get written. Been there, done that, will happen again.

First, a heartfelt thanks to all the people who reacted to my post about being single and childless, here and on facebook. Rest assured that I actually rather like the life I have — it’s full of good things. But it’s very different from the one I imagined. I will write more on this, but exactly when and what I am not sure yet. Also, one can grieve not being a mother but not want to adopt or be a single parent. There is a whole spectrum of “child desire”, and it’s not at all as clear-cut as “no way” and “I’ll do anything”. Check out “50 Ways to Not Be a Mother“.

Most of my working hours are devoted to running Open Ears and a series of digital literacy workshops at Sonova. I’m still way behind on my accounting.

Tounsi (and his pal Quintus) went to see an animal behaviour specialist, because I was starting to get really fed up cleaning after Tounsi’s almost daily spraying in the flat (thankfully his pee doesn’t smell too strongly and I’m good at spotting and cleaning). I plan to write a detailed article on the experience in French, but it was fascinating and I regret not going earlier. As of now, spraying is pretty much under control, and I’m in the process of finally chucking and replacing two pieces of furniture which are soiled beyond salvation.

What I learned:

  • outdoor cats can also need stimulation (play, hunting…)
  • even a 20-second “play session” where the cat lifts his head to watch a paper ball but doesn’t chase it can make a difference, if this kind of thing is repeated throughout the day.
  • making cats “work” for their food can be taken much further than feeding balls or mazes: change where the food is all the time (I wouldn’t have dared do that, didn’t know if it was a good idea or not, but it is); hide kibble under upturned yoghurt cups; throw pieces of kibble one by one for the cat to run after (another thing to do “all the time”); use an empty egg-box to make kibble harder to get to; etc. etc.
  • clicker training for things like touching a reluctant cat: my baby steps were way too big and my sessions way too long
  • Feliway spray is way more efficient than the diffusor (at least to stop spraying)
  • cleaning with water (or water and neutral soap) is really not enough, there are products to spray on soiled areas which break down urine molecules (even if you can’t smell anything, the cat can)
  • spraying can simply be a “vicious circle” — it seems to be the case with Tounsi: he sprays in the flat because it’s a habit, and because there are “marking sign-posts” (ie, smell) everywhere

While we’re on the topic of cats, I’m playing cat-rescuer and looking for homes for Capsule and Mystik (together, used to living indoors but that could change) and Erika (has been living outdoors for 5 years but super friendly).

I don’t think I mentioned StartUp podcast or Gimlet Media here yet. Anyway: want great podcasts? Listen to Startup, Reply All, and Mystery Show. And in addition to Invisibilia and those I mention in that article, grab Planet Money (I swear, they make it interesting even for me!), Snap Judgement (great storytelling), and This American Life.

Reading? Spin, Axis, and Vortex, by Robert Charles Wilson.

Something I need to remember to tell people about blogging: write down stuff that’s in your head. It works way better than doing research to write on something you think might be interesting for people.

Procrastinating and generally disorganised, as I am? Two recent articles by James Clear that I like: one on “temptation bundling” to help yourself do stuff while keeping in mind future rewards (delayed gratification, anybody?) and the other on a super simple productivity “method”. I read about it this morning and am going to try it.

Related, but not by Clear: How to Get Yourself to Do Things. Read it, but here’s the takeaway: when you procrastinate, the guilt builds up and you feel worse and worse. But as soon as you start doing it gets better. And so the worst you’ll ever feel about not doing something is just before you start. Understanding this is helping me loads.

Enough for today. More soon, or less soon.

Thanks to Marie-Aude who gave me a nudge to get back to this blog. I’d been in the “omg should write an article” state for weeks, and her little contribution the other day certainly played a role in me putting “write CTTS article” in my list of 6 things for the day. Merci 🙂

The Right to Grieve — And That Means Being Sad [en]

[fr] Avez-vous remarqué comme personne ne veut qu'on soit triste? La tristesse est néanmoins une émotion nécessaire, celle qui nous permet d'accepter une perte, d'en faire le deuil, et de pouvoir continuer à avancer à travers et au-delà de la peine.

Have you noticed how nobody wants you to be sad? Tell people around you that you’re sad, and immediately they’ll want to cheer you up.

Sadness is not bad. Sadness is necessary. It is through being sad that we are able to accept our losses and move on. That is what grieving is.

Our friends don’t want us to feel sad, because they don’t want us to suffer. But refusing to be sad and to grieve brings along a lot of suffering — certainly more, in the long run, than the pain of sadness.

Sadness is not depression. Unprocessed grief can lead to depression, though.

Sadness is the feeling of loss.

A person who is experiencing loss needs the courage to feel sad, and in a world which wants to shove sad under the carpet at the first opportunity, that can be far from easy.

What is valued is staying strong in the face of loss, grief, catastrophe. Not collapsing. Not showing how much pain we’re in.

But what we need when we’re sad and in pain, most of the time, is support so we can dare to feel all this. A safe place to be heard, recognised, and not judged. Love and acceptance that does not desperately want to save us from our emotions, but on the contrary, regard them as part of ourselves and our journey through life.

To grieve and to move on from all the various losses in our lives, all the nevermores, we need to be able to be sad. It is a good thing.

Invisibilia: A Podcast About the Hidden Forces That Shape our Behaviour [en]

[fr] Un super podcast à découvrir: Invisibilia. Ça parle des forces invisibles qui conditionnent le comportement humain. Et c'est super bien fait. Quelques histoires pour démarrer: l'homme aveugle (sans yeux) qui voit par écholocalisation et fait du vélo, la femme qui ressent physiquement ce qui arrive à ceux autour d'elle (un cas extrême de "synesthésie miroir"), le rapport entre nos pensées et qui nous sommes (sommes-nous nos pensées? quelle importance leur accorder?), et j'en passe.

I thought I’d written a post somewhere introducing the podcasts I listen to regularly. I don’t watch TV, but I do listen to a bunch of podcasts religiously: Radiolab, On The Media, The Savage Lovecast, and The Moth. Serial was great, too.

Through Radiolab, I recently discovered the new show Invisibilia. It’s actually co-hosted by one of Radiolab’s former producers, and there is clearly in the choice of subject matter a kinship with what drew me to Radiolab in the first place all these years ago.

Invisibilia is about the stuff that we can’t see and which shapes human behaviour. In the pilot season, you’ll find stories about a blind man who can actually see by using echolocation, a woman who cannot feel fear, and Paige, tragically flipping through gender categories. And that’s just the beginning. Subscribe to the podcast and start listening.

Here’s a bunch of random takeaways for me after listening to the first episodes:

  • the three “stages” in the history of our thoughts: 1) all thoughts are meaningful (Freud), 2) some thoughts are BS and we can think ourselves out of them (CBT), 3) our thoughts don’t deserve that much attention (mindfulness)
  • how important categories are in helping us make sense of the world (I kind of knew that); reminded me of India again and the utter confusion of the first weeks where all my European categories broke down, and I didn’t have any Indian ones yet to work with
  • how gently facing one’s fears works much better in getting rid of them than obsessing about them and trying to avoid their object
  • how important our expectations of what people can do are in determining what they actually are going to be capable of doing (“blind people can’t do that“)
  • venting when angry, whilst therapeutic in the moment, actually makes us more angry and aggressive in the long run

Sound interesting? Check out the list of the previous episodes. If you start listening, let me know!