Cadenza

Remember the old Facebook? I mean, the old Facebook. I mean, the OLD Facebook. Back when you had to log in to thefacebook.com with a .EDU email address. Back when the homepage had the list of schools that were coveted members of the walled blue garden with that face in the upper-left corner. Back when you didn’t have zombie wars or mafia wars, just poke wars. Back when your favorite quote of some inside joke from your dorm floor was right on your profile page and not hidden five clicks under your secondary yet larger profile pic. Here is mine, by Martin Luther King, Jr.:

If a man is to be a street sweeper, he should sweep streets even as Michelangelo painted or Beethoven composed music or Shakespeare wrote poetry. He should sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will pause and say, “Here lived a great street sweeper who did his job well.”

Essentially, be the best at whatever you do. Sounds trite, yes no? It’s just not that exciting. Doesn’t have that special somethin’ somethin’. Being some generic ‘most good’ at some activity comes off as very… impersonal. So let’s inject a tonne (1000 kilograms, which is more than the more familiar ‘ton’, which is 2000 pounds, which is 907.19 kilograms) (you’re welcome) of personality in.

Let’s thus talk about a Cadenza!

…a piece of furniture that became very fashionable during the second half of the 19th century. Often made of a burnished and polished wood decorated with marquetry, a central cupboard would be flanked by symmetrical quadrant glass display cabinets. The top would often be made of marble, or another decorative stone, or of inlaid wood.

Crap, that was a Credenza. Not the type of ‘personality’ I was going for. Let’s try again.

…an improvised or written-out ornamental passage played or sung by a soloist or soloists, usually in a “free” rhythmic style, and often allowing for virtuosic display.

That’s a Cadenza. Much better. You hear the personality in that? Soloist! Virtuoso! It’s not just showing off, though; it is an opportunity to pour your heart into your art. It is your heart, so it is in a unique style that is distinctly yours, and nobody else’s. It is your heart, so it is your essence and undeniably associated with your core.

…and doesn’t all that sound better than ‘best’?

In brief, I’ll unflourishingly channel my inner Forrest Gump and end this by submitting another shade of ‘find your life path’: Life is like a cadenza. Find an art into which you can pour your heart.

MUSICALLY TAOIST POST-SCRIPT:

Alright you music geeks, I’m talking to you. We know cadenzas are indicated by a fermata over a ‘rest’. Thus, this held space represents… potential. The way we’re told the sky is the limit and we’re free to go nuts, shedding shame to share our virtuosity, is via a vacuum explicitly laden with possibility. A cadenza is both (visually) empty and (audibly) full.

The notes that are played are unwritten… cadenzas are indicated by an ‘uncarved block’… I’d call this pure potential the closest musical equivalent to Pu. Sounds deep, yes no?

(Too close for missiles. Switching to guns.)

Good Enough

Hello, artist. You creator, you. Don’t consider yourself an artist? Well, are you making something? Then yep, that means you’re an artist! (Congratulations.) You are translating this THING in your head, this idea, into something you can see/hear/taste/smell/feel, and then you’re most likely getting others to see/hear/taste/smell/feel it, too: Creating and Connecting.

Don’t mind me. I don’t mean to interrupt. I just want to see/hear/taste/smell/feel this thing you’re up to. Wait, you WANT to show me? Awesome! Gee, thanks! So, to share this with me, you’ll have to stop creating. Not forever, I know, and you might not even be DONE, but in the continuum of its creation process, you are showing me one state.

This is a challenge to artists of all types: Is this thing done enough for me to share?

If we had infinite time, money, focus, and other resources, we’d want to make it perfect. PERFECT. So with that ideal in our heads, we keep going. We keep refining. We keep tweaking. We keep… going. We keep… not stopping so that we can ship. And this is bad. Hey, don’t look at me that way. Listen to Voltaire:

Dans ses écrits, un sàge Italien
Dit que le mieux est l’ennemi du bien.

Essentially (from an Italian, yet in French): perfect is the enemy of the good.

Let me ask you a simple question. Do you know the future? Don’t lie, now. No? I didn’t think so. That’s OK, neither do I, and that’s the point. How do you know if this plan you have for this thing you’re making will really matter or create real value? How do you know if this thing in your head is really the best form for it to take?

People stink at planning. (What percentage of projects that you’ve been a part of have ended on time and on budget without continually updating the plan along the way to better match reality?) Scrum recognizes this poignantly human weakness and embraces it by espousing that we ship and ship often; at the end of each sprint, we have a potentially ‘shippable’ product.

At the end of each sprint, you have created a version you can share. For my earlier ScrumOfOne stories, they were ones I would share with… me: personal utility, whether it was more frequent use or a deeper use.

I started ScrumOfOne (talk about incrementally evolving THIS idea…) when I first moved into my current place. The floors were a mess, the bathroom sink was disgustingly clogged, and everything I owned was suddenly piled into my kitchen. Now what. You prioritize. The kitchen sink became a safe zone – I would shave there for a while, overlooking Mass. Ave. The toilet became lickably sterilized – my butt is high maintenance. The shower was scrubbed, but not gleaming white – baby, but solid steps for survival before living with some luxuries. The fridge doesn’t have to be wiped before populated with sustenance.

What type of artist was I then? I was desperate. I was crafting a livable space – for me – which was good enough (great for a time). And now, she and I are crafting this space for us – which is great (awesome going on awesomer).

First strive for Good Enough. Get to Great later.

You might find Good Enough IS Great, but that’s a Taoist revelation for another time…

Experiences, Not Possessions

This is what I’ve been saying for a long time! A really really long time! As long as I can remember! Like, ever since I could speak! Ever since I was able to utter utterances of glorious spittle and idful vowels! Back wh-

I’ve invested time in learning the most efficient ways to spend money to increase my marginal happiness. http://www.bakadesuyo.com/8-ways-that-money-can-buy-happiness-34746 gives a good overview, but the main point is to buy experiences, not possessions. I own very few things, but have many experiences.

The folks at Business Insider must be doing something right, ’cause I’m getting a lot of my news from them nowadays. The above is from their article ‘What It Feels Like To Be Absolutely Loaded By Age 25‘, where somebody made it big by being an early employee at a successful company, and now makes a living authoring the halfth-world reality to first-world ponderers. Or has somebody do it for him. Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Stop arguing. The point is, when I make purchases, usually larger ones with some sentimental value, I don’t view it as a sunk cost, but rather an investment in a memory. (The ladies love hearing that shit. Try it sometime. Girl, you know it’s true…)

The article raised a fun scenario, where this rich dude says he’s pursuing things that money can’t buy. You don’t need crazy amounts of money to access things invaluable.

Isn’t that a relief?

What Are Questions?

Riding the T home from work, surrounded by Red Sox fans and other fellow Massholes, I find a strategic spot in the train car where I can stand lookin’ all cool ‘n’ stuff and read blog posts on my wikked smaaht phone in relative peace, tucked away from the ebb and flow of baby carriages, clueless tourists staring at the Green Line map, fresh college freshmen wearing their lanyards like an Olympic medal, and seasoned locals who are plugged in and tuned out.

That’s when my head explodes.

There is a mess. It’s fugly. I’m rather embarrassed. Lucky for me, all the king’s horses and all the king’s men, plus one eggs-pert, put me back together again. I had some ‘splaining to do. I told the team of onlookers teeming with curiosity and gore that I had just read a literally mind-blowing blog post. Consider this the lit fuse to the detonating words that made it rain white- and grey-matter like a spontaneous rainbow, a weather event unnaturally left out of the Metro. I apologize in advance.

Questions are places in your mind where answers fit. If you haven’t asked the question, the answer has nowhere to go. It hits your mind and bounces right off. You have to ask the question – you have to want to know – in order to open up the space for the answer to fit.

Hi again. Sorry to do that to ya. So now that you’re back, let’s talk about this.

I got this gem, entitled ‘What are questions?‘, from the Signal vs. Noise blog by 37signals. Think of all the answers that are bouncing off your now-duct-taped mind. If you’re not asking the right questions, you won’t be ready to appreciate the right answers, even if they’re being flung at you. Likewise, sudden ideas and opportunistic openings in life can’t be seen in a fruitful light if you don’t have the intention to get your ScrumOfOne stories to done.

So, ask the question. Actively intend to move along your very own life vector. That’s when the answers, that may be already in front of you, will stick.

Sorry for the splitting head(…ache). I’m sure you’ll agree ’twas worth it.

Two Metrics At Any Time

The last post talked about measuring life and how ScrumOfOne can do this to manage life, in a sense. The morning Scrum allows for a granularity of a day, but what about a measure with higher resolution? And would you even want one?

In ‘The $100 Startup’ by Chris Guillebeau, he proposes that in the monitoring of your business, select one or two metrics and be aware of them at any time, such that you can determine ’em in very short order. Examples include sales, cash flow, and incoming leads. To balance out the monitoring overhead, any other metrics would be subject to a biweekly or monthly review.

From a Scrum perspective, the burndown chart could be a visual representation of one of these metrics: how many hours left to complete all tasks associated with Sprint stories. For myself, I don’t have stories that I need to break into tasks quite yet… nor do I have a means to track this at a low enough overhead that I care to use.

The metric in this category that I do follow is how close to my Sprintly (financial) budget I am.

What would yours be?