Discussions tend to be interesting in direct proportion to the attention that is paid. Even a boring talk can be considered riveting if the listener takes notes and comes up with rebuttals.
Just riffing here, but your opening paragraph brought to mind this movie that I think Aristotle might have enjoyed if he could have found it on his streaming services: https://www.hundredsofbeavers.com/ … I’ll go have a long talk with my soul now.
Loved this post and am a big believer in the themes you described on self-persuasion. Looking forward to the book!
The picture and essay spawned a couple of additional thoughts:
1. Perspective. My first reaction to the picture of the beaver dam was, "Oh, that's beautiful and what a wonderful new pond." But then I remembered the beavers that destroyed many decades-old specimen trees lining a stream to my lake in Virginia (including a gorgeous, majestic willow tree), blocking the intended drain, and forcing the water to run over the manmade part of the dam, causing massive erosion damage. It came down to the beavers or me. To paraphrase Bugs Bunny, I realized, this meant war. I'm pleased with myself that my first assumption was the positive one, but it also made me think about your point on the importance of understanding the audience. In Virginia, if someone had told me how wonderful it was that I had beavers...
2. I was a math and physics major in college (and econ, but that's not relevant here). I didn't really care for math, but loved physics and figured (self-persuasion?) that I should overshoot on the math side in classes to ensure I could keep up with it for the physics. I suppose it's a like a pro basketball player practicing the boring free throws. Or at least the physics nerd in me wishes it were like that. Anyway, there was one math class that stood out as interesting and fun. It had nothing to do with the subject matter (math proof) and everything to do with the professor's approach. At the start of every class, he insisted we form a circle and all hold hands to recite some self and mutual affirmations. It was absurd and humiliating, serving as a low-impact form of "rigorous initiation," as you put it. We were all bonded by the shared hazing, and, ultimately, I appreciated that the professor took that approach.
To this day, Math Proof is the only math class I remember engaging with the students or professor on class subject matter. His approach forced an emotional connection to the class and made me care about it. It's also the only class in my entire university experience where I made friends in the class itself, as opposed to the people I met at social events, one of whom I'm still in touch with today (in fact visiting her and her husband about a dozen years after we graduated indirectly led to meeting my wife).
What a great story, Colin. That holding-hands thing would make me die a thousand deaths. But then, saying stupid mantras to myself as part of my self-persuasion experiment was like forming a hand-holding circle with my own embarassed soul.
As for beavers, yeah, they killed a beautiful stand of black walnuts, flooded a number of my hard-won trails, and create the most diverse environment here in Orange. Oh, and as you know, I have to unclog the dam on Orange Pond almost every day in early summer, thanks to beavers. They drive me crazy, but man, what amazing creatures.
Perhaps another contributor to beavery soulfulness is that they are both profoundly social (living and moving in family groups, mating for life, etc.) AND deeply self-reliant (doing all of their building work individually ... unlike wolves and ants and zebras, there's no pack behavior ... you never see a team of beavers gnawing on the same tree). Wouldn't you say that there is great harmony when there is an intuitive understanding & embrace of shared purpose that ties one to the well-being of the community while also providing space to choose which tree to fell this morning?
If only beavers were our national symbol, Jon. I couldn't agree more. Plus imagine a healthy diet that consists of your own construction material? Yum, great cambium layer, now let's build a house.
Discussions tend to be interesting in direct proportion to the attention that is paid. Even a boring talk can be considered riveting if the listener takes notes and comes up with rebuttals.
Just riffing here, but your opening paragraph brought to mind this movie that I think Aristotle might have enjoyed if he could have found it on his streaming services: https://www.hundredsofbeavers.com/ … I’ll go have a long talk with my soul now.
The trailer on Apple TV+ is about as rhetorical as it gets.
Absolutely AWESOME insights here, Jay! Thanks a lot!
Thanks, Mr. P! I'm a big fan of your fitness advice, having persuaded myself into workouts. Please keep writing.
Loved this post and am a big believer in the themes you described on self-persuasion. Looking forward to the book!
The picture and essay spawned a couple of additional thoughts:
1. Perspective. My first reaction to the picture of the beaver dam was, "Oh, that's beautiful and what a wonderful new pond." But then I remembered the beavers that destroyed many decades-old specimen trees lining a stream to my lake in Virginia (including a gorgeous, majestic willow tree), blocking the intended drain, and forcing the water to run over the manmade part of the dam, causing massive erosion damage. It came down to the beavers or me. To paraphrase Bugs Bunny, I realized, this meant war. I'm pleased with myself that my first assumption was the positive one, but it also made me think about your point on the importance of understanding the audience. In Virginia, if someone had told me how wonderful it was that I had beavers...
2. I was a math and physics major in college (and econ, but that's not relevant here). I didn't really care for math, but loved physics and figured (self-persuasion?) that I should overshoot on the math side in classes to ensure I could keep up with it for the physics. I suppose it's a like a pro basketball player practicing the boring free throws. Or at least the physics nerd in me wishes it were like that. Anyway, there was one math class that stood out as interesting and fun. It had nothing to do with the subject matter (math proof) and everything to do with the professor's approach. At the start of every class, he insisted we form a circle and all hold hands to recite some self and mutual affirmations. It was absurd and humiliating, serving as a low-impact form of "rigorous initiation," as you put it. We were all bonded by the shared hazing, and, ultimately, I appreciated that the professor took that approach.
To this day, Math Proof is the only math class I remember engaging with the students or professor on class subject matter. His approach forced an emotional connection to the class and made me care about it. It's also the only class in my entire university experience where I made friends in the class itself, as opposed to the people I met at social events, one of whom I'm still in touch with today (in fact visiting her and her husband about a dozen years after we graduated indirectly led to meeting my wife).
What a great story, Colin. That holding-hands thing would make me die a thousand deaths. But then, saying stupid mantras to myself as part of my self-persuasion experiment was like forming a hand-holding circle with my own embarassed soul.
As for beavers, yeah, they killed a beautiful stand of black walnuts, flooded a number of my hard-won trails, and create the most diverse environment here in Orange. Oh, and as you know, I have to unclog the dam on Orange Pond almost every day in early summer, thanks to beavers. They drive me crazy, but man, what amazing creatures.
Perhaps another contributor to beavery soulfulness is that they are both profoundly social (living and moving in family groups, mating for life, etc.) AND deeply self-reliant (doing all of their building work individually ... unlike wolves and ants and zebras, there's no pack behavior ... you never see a team of beavers gnawing on the same tree). Wouldn't you say that there is great harmony when there is an intuitive understanding & embrace of shared purpose that ties one to the well-being of the community while also providing space to choose which tree to fell this morning?
If only beavers were our national symbol, Jon. I couldn't agree more. Plus imagine a healthy diet that consists of your own construction material? Yum, great cambium layer, now let's build a house.