I was at a panel tonight at the Museum of Science, part of their “When Science Meets Art” series. Tonight’s topic was “The Art of Living a Second Life.” John Craig Freeman, an artist in Second Life, made one comment that really stuck with me: “The internet is a prosthetic memory.”
The Children of Húrin
J.R.R. Tolkien, decades after his death, has published a new book, The Children of Húrin. If you’re a fan of The Silmarillion and the appendices to The Lord of the Rings, as I am, then you will love this book. If The Hobbit is your favorite Tolkien work, then this may not be so much to your taste.
The Children of Húrin is tragedy on a grand scale. Think Greek tragedy. Christopher Tolkien has done a masterful job of cadging together the various unfinished parts of his father’s writing into a coherent, complete narrative.
Rate hikes to penalize small publishers
I sent an email to my congressional representatives, and I hope you will too.
Rik is learning to lead
Great post by Rik on The Click Heard Round the World: Learning to lead:
Fundamentally, I need to invest more of me in my work. Not to let Rik the Quaker, Rik the dancer, and Rik the manager exist in these seperate spheres but really let all these integral pieces of myself come out in whatever settings I find myself leading.
I met Rik through Quakers in Second Life, but his blog extends through the whole of his life. I left a comment:
What great reflections Rik. I have felt similar ambivalence about exercising leadership at times.
My experience of leadership in a Quaker context (which could be a whole, messy, complicated essay, but I’ll avoid that here), has been that there are at least three elements that have contributed to my leadership: skill and two kinds of giftedness.
First is the gifts I just carry with me: self-confidence, an orderly intelligence, being an INTP.
There are skills on top of those gifts, which can be developed, that add to or extend them: ease with public speaking, good filing skills (or not!), education on the topic.
Then there’s another kind of gift I’ve experienced, that I’ll describe in religious Quaker terms: God gives gifts to the community, through individuals. The gift is exercised by me, but neither comes from me nor belongs to me.
I’ve experienced these three things most clearly in the various times I’ve been a recording clerk. I clearly have inherent gifts and skills that are put to good use in being a recording clerk, but unless the second kind of giftedness is present, it’s not pretty.
Bill McKibben on food, independence, and oil
A great article at Incharacter.org by Bill McKibben.
We’re used to independence as the prime virtue — so used to it that three quarters of American Christians believe the phrase “God helps those who help themselves†comes from the Bible, instead of Ben Franklin. “Love your neighbor as yourself†is harder advice, but sweeter and more sage. We don’t need to live on communes (though more and more old people are finding themselves enrolling in “retirement communities†that are gray-haired, upscale versions). But we will, I think, need to figure out how to stop relying on both oil and ourselves, and instead learn the lesson that the other primates and the other human cultures never forgot: we’re built to rely on each other.
I was personally struck by some of his ideas. I do happen to know my neighbors, but only the ones who live in my building. I barely even say hello to other people I see as I walk down our little residential street. And when I go to the farmer’s market? No, I don’t talk to people. But the idea that I might (especially if I were going every week) is compelling. And come to think of it, there is one vendor at the City Hall farmer’s market that I’ve talked to — and at a supermarket or Harvest coop, I wouldn’t do even that.
(via Arts & Letters Daily)
A Pepys and a Sutton
In “today’s” entry in the online Pepys’ Diary:
Up, and after my wife had dressed herself very fine in her new laced gown, and very handsome indeed, W. Howe also coming to see us, I carried her by coach to my uncle Wight’s and set her down there, and W. Howe and I to the Coffee-house, where we sat talking about getting of him some place under my Lord of advantage if he should go to sea, and I would be glad to get him secretary and to out Creed if I can, for he is a crafty and false rogue. Thence a little to the ‘Change, and thence took him to my uncle Wight’s, where dined my father, poor melancholy man, that used to be as full of life as anybody, and also my aunt’s brother, Mr. Sutton, a merchant in Flanders, a very sober, fine man, and Mr. Cole and his lady; but, Lord! how I used to adore that man’s talke, and now methinks he is but an ordinary man, his son a pretty boy indeed, but his nose unhappily awry.
Steampunk
Because of my Second Life, I decided to dip into steampunk (a subdivision of science fiction). So over the weekend I finished a novel, something I haven’t done in quite some time. It’s been interesting to note that I just haven’t been interested in reading for a good six to eight months.
The Time Ships by Stephen Baxter was recommended to me as a good example of steampunk. It continues the story of the inventor told by H.G. Wells in The Time Machine. I’m almost too embarrassed to admit that I enjoyed it so much more than the Wells.
And this morning I found R2-S2 (R2 Steam Too) via Brass Goggles.
Nice article on Second Life religion in USA Today
A very nice article in USA Today: Faithful build a Second Life for religion online, even if they did ignore the Quakers (and almost skipped the Buddhists and assorted Pagans). Near the end is a statement that rings true for me:
Indeed, says Internet expert Julian Dibbell, “virtual reality is in some ways an essentially spiritual experience.”
Fantastic maps
The Daily Mail has a feature on How the world really shapes up with images of maps where land mass of countries has been distorted to show things like population, alcohol consumption, or death by war or violence. (via Strange Maps)
Pepys on his brother’s death
From the online version of Samuel Pepys’ Diary:
I lay close to my wife, being full of disorder and grief for my brother that I could not sleep nor wake with satisfaction, at last I slept till 5 or 6 o’clock.