Monday, November 19, 2007

Hard Work or Opportunity?

The other night I was having a conversation with a few friends about whether IQ, hard work, or opportunity had a larger impact on a person's success.

All parties involved seems to think that IQ, on the margin, was not necessary to acheive success. This may be a view peculiar to Americans, who culturally value intelligence less than most of the rest of the world. Most successful Americans (for example, picking one from each century, Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Edison, and Bill Gates) are far more famous for their work ethic than their raw intelligence.

A disagreement did surface, however, from choosing between hard work and opportunity.

I contend that work is the engine of self-improvement and opportunities don't present themselves at all; one must work to create one's opportunities. The harder one works, the more opportunities surface. Furthermore, an opportunity can't exist unless one has the eyes to see it, and these eyes would require work to develop. Lastly, one can control how hard one works, but not what opportunities surface; therefore, hard work is more under one's control. (This is all a gross oversimplification, but I believe is valid as a first-order approximation.)

The argument taken by my friends was that one needs opportunity to demonstrate and benefit from hard work. Using an example, how can you be a hard worker if you can't get a job? Another aspect of their argument was the limited benefit of hard work. If a bus boy at a restaurant works very, very hard, he will (probably) not become President of the United States, or even owner of the restaurant.

While I can see their argument about the importance of opportunity, I still believe that hard work is the more important.

Friday, November 16, 2007

Constellations

During my adolescence, I spent time planning my trek through life. This process was not always conscious; in fact, I think that nearly everyone at that age begins to plan out their life’s travels. Part of the process involves finding people who have gone before you (the very definition of the Japanese term sensei) who will serve as guiding stars to help direct us through life.

Over time, one can accumulate these stars and form a constellation; that is; a group of people whose lives serve as wisdom for us at a time where wisdom is scarce.
When I think of those men who formed my constellation, I see that it’s quite a diverse group, and is based primarily on availability at the time.

My first was certainly my own father, which is probably common for people. My father had a strong work ethic, and I am sure that I get my restless ambition from him. Second was probably Arnold Schwarzenegger. I was given his autobiography when I was 14 and read it with great excitement, based on my own interest in weight lifting. Arnold too had a strong work ethic. Another star provided the soundtrack of my life. Jimmy Page, the guitarist of Led Zeppelin fame, created a diverse palette of moods that I could experiment with. Although I hadn’t known much about Mr. Page’s personal life (he is a private person), his music taught me much. I picked up the guitar to learn to play like him.

I was fortunate to have worked many jobs between ages 13 and 20, and those jobs provided many older men who also because stars of various brightness that guide me.

In retrospect, I can see that all of them were hard workers.

Thus my concept of manhood was less a form of fashion or genetics, but more a focus on providing for, building, and achieving. I am proud of have dedicated, for the last 20 year thus far, to travelling through time using these men as guides.

The Calculus of Joy

If there were ever a book I would like to write, it would be about an emotion, as yet satisfactorily named to me. It is an emotion of intense appreciation for a moment of time, based on total loss of self through total cosmic defeat. It is intensely joyful, and yet requires a level of courage that I certainly don’t have. It is the present value, the limit in differential calculus, of all future joys. It is the renunciation of the future.

Do you appreciate life? Can you separate the material sources of your joy and appreciation from life itself? Can you imagine what you would feel it you lst everything you owned? Everything in your future? Your future itself?

What if you lived in shame? You were defeated in the game of life due to no fault of your own? Have you been the poorest on your block? Worn the worst clothes? Was your family cast asunder on the social ladder?

If not, then you may not know for certain that you appreciate your life itself, rather than the joys you look forward to, the respect you command or buy, or the mere circumstance of your birth.

To live life in the present, the books say, is an admonishment to appreciate life. But it typically involves and asks for the loss of the past, a resetting of one’s habits of expectations and routines. It fails, however, at asking something far more difficult: to lose one’s future. To lose one’s future, for real, would represent a major tragedy: death, or perhaps said more optimistically, a quick start to the Afterlife, if applicable.

However, for that one moment, if you could live that one moment, it would be infinitely joyful, because there would be nothing else. Your true appreciation would be infinite. “Knowing that one will be executed at dawn wonderfully concentrates the mind” relates a similar idea.

Rather than really losing one’s future, we could instead meditate on the concept and eventually allow such a concept to seep into one’s daily routines and outlook generally. For example, most people commute to work in a rushed, pained, and generally unhappy state. One’s commute could be a time of extreme appreciation for where one is going, and eventually with enough training, appreciation for the commute itself.

Another level of emotion is the renunciation of one’s gifts. Does your ego cling to your intelligence? Would you appreciate life still if you were dumber? Compared to life itself, one’s IQ isn’t terribly important? What about your physical health? Would you still love life if you had a limp, cancer, or another physical issue? How does your ego deal with the daily risk of losing one’s physical health, which is in fact inevitable?

The ultimate goal with these exercises is not to die soon, be dumber, or harm your body. Instead the goal is the true appreciate for life itself. Anything you have above and beyond simply life is not to be taken for granted, but neither should your existence at present.

Monday, November 5, 2007

The Instruction of Ptahhotep

Almost certainly the oldest surviving conduct book, The Instruction of Ptahhotep was written around 2350BC by an aging, high-ranking government official named Ptahhotep in Ancient Egypt to his son. (There are still relatively original copies of this work (in the Biblioteque Nationale in Paris and in the British Museum, which is famous for its Egyptology). Most of the book is available on the Internet, in both English and Hieroglyphic form.

Perhaps the most fascinating aspect of the book (related to the fact that it’s 4,300 years old) is the timelessness and thus relevance today. Humility, peacefulness, service, truthfulness (avoidance of gossip), justice (even against your offspring), and listening skills are the major themes in the book.

Ancient Egypt, as a civilization, existed longer than the time period from its end until the present day. In other words, for the period of known history, Ancient Egypt constitutes a majority. But it’s hard to imagine where the human species was 4,300 years ago during this time period. We are talking pre-America, pre-Columbus, pre-Europe, pre-Roman, and pre-Greek. Ancient Egypt is a strange civilization because it seems so timeless.

The Instruction of Ptahhotep, for me, casts major and warranted doubt on the moral relativism of today. The clash of cultures that we currently are seeing, due primarily to immigration and incredible advances in transportation technology, does not mean that “anything goes”. Wisdom does collect over time, organically, within a culture, and to discard that wisdom is dangerous. Even after 4,300 years, The Instruction of Ptahhotep is as current as ever.