On to this month’s curations!
How to Journal on Great Literature (My Marginalia & Rereading Process), by Benjamin McEvoy (video)
Sometimes the YouTube algorithm serves up a gem.
What is this about?
In this video, McEvoy discusses how marginalia (writing in the margins) and journaling are ways to converse with “great books” as well as with one’s life. Reading literature and fiction is often a “Rorschach test” of our own concerns, issues, and interests. Marginalia serves as directions to re-reading, signals of resonance, as well as prompts for reflection, conversation, and the cultivation of meaning.
The three key steps McEvoy suggests for conversing with the great books are: 1) alight upon resonance (what caught the ear, the eye, the heart?); 2) write the quotation by hand; and 3) pose questions to yourself (ask an orienting question that is specific to the material or your interests, but allows you to explore and make connections).
What can we learn?
This kindles an ember in my spirit to re-connect with my younger self, who read widely and with abandon and had no criteria for selection or judgment on the things she read. It also reminds me that I have succumbed to some amount of “chronological snobbery” in engaging so intently with media created or focused on current concerns.
Beyond that, I love how McEvoy highlights the very real experience of resonance. He encourages us to read (and engage our lives) with the anticipation of finding something that strikes a chord deep within us, developing vibrant connections with the world around us. It establishes a relationship with another person, regardless of when they walked the earth. When we can no longer connect with people, or ideas, or moments, it’s as though the world — and ourselves — has died.
Perhaps this is why we struggle so much these days: the digital technologies with which we are so familiar don’t ask for, or require, any kind of connection. True, significant connections require unpredictability and surprise, a sense of agency inherent within the Other to find their foothold in our awareness and spark relationship. (This goes toward explaining why surprises in digital technologies simply induce speechless rage, because they are dumb, without any possibility of connection.)
What can we do with this?
McEvoy recommends scheduling journaling time to begin building the habit, the ritual of pausing to reflect. This could be on what we’ve read, listened to, watched, whatever you wish it to be.
But it is, more truly, about reflecting on our encounters in the world and the potential relationships we might form. Pausing, reflecting, capturing in this way closes the loop of encounter by asking us to answer the question, “What does this mean? How is this significant? Why does this matter?”
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The Experience Machine: How Our Minds Predict and Shape Reality, by Andy Clark (book)
What is this about?
Clark’s core thesis is that what we sensorily experience of the world is never raw experience. Instead, it’s actually mediated by our predictions of what we will experience. Our attention goes to the moments when we notice or experience a difference between our prediction and the actual sensory input, which Clark calls “prediction errors.” Our personal “experiences” are then a result of the subconscious (and constantly improving) matching of our predictions with “sensory evidence” that impinges on our nervous systems.
What can we learn?
Years ago, I read Mary Warnock’s philosophical text Imagination. In her examination of the work of David Hume and Samuel Taylor Coleridge, she discusses how our brains engage reality. Specifically, Hume and Coleridge posited that our minds create a continuous narrative of discontinuous sensory input, or evidence. We don’t actually experience the sun or hearing continuously. We have episodes of “sun,” “sounds,” and through our imagination, we connect those episodes of sensory evidence.
Imagination is the basis of prediction.
Last year, I had the opportunity to attend a science illustration webinar in which a friend spoke on perhaps the key skill for any artist, let alone one working in the sciences: that of true, deep observation. She pointed out that, if she was to suggest that we draw a cheetah, most of us would probably produce something similar to our common house cat. (Don’t tell them they’re common.) And we would be very wrong.
Instead, if we actually looked at a cheetah, if we deeply observed the reality of it, we would realize that we drew what we thought it should look like, rather than what exists. What we’ve done is predicted a “cat’s head,” rather than letting sensory evidence guide our perception and prediction.
What does this mean for us?
I’m not going to suggest we all go out and find a cheetah to draw (though if you want to, g’head). Rather, I think that Clark’s book is a good reminder for us to not hold with a clenched fist everything we think or believe. We can choose to let this difference between prediction and evidence correct our previous predictions, or we can let it affirm those predictions. Our imaginations can help us connect sensory evidence in ways that contribute to human flourishing, or destroy it. Our posture toward “prediction errors” can shape how we act as a result, and how we choose to affect the world around us.
Also. This idea of prediction error—the difference between prediction and input—will be interesting to consider in light of Rosa’s theory of resonance. (Which we’ll get to at some point in the future. I can’t predict when.)
Disagreeing with Tiago Forte (August 3, 2023)
If you’re not familiar with Tiago Forte, he’s become one of the most popular figures on the personal knowledge management (PKM) circuit. He recently posted this note on his YouTube Community tab, and…I nearly blew a gasket.
Since I can’t assume any nuances or intentions beyond the plain text, I’m going to respond to what exists here.
The point of taking notes is to take note of what matters to you.
To suggest that valid notes arise from an “interesting life” is to re-impose the prevalent spirit of competition and comparison that we encounter in so many spheres of the world. “Interesting” is subjective, relative, and preferential (in the sense of preferring one thing over another, based on our priorities or significances).
The hardest part of taking notes is building the regular habit of observing, attending, and capturing what we personally find interesting. Full stop.
Leading “an interesting life” is leading a life that’s interesting to you. It’s your unique way of resonating with prediction errors.
Go forth and resonate!
Let’s be hopeful, creative, and wise—together.
Shalom,
R21.5 Resources
Trying to figure out how to listen to your life?
One way of doing so is to gain clarity on the digital and analog tools you use in your regular routines. The free Guide to Reducing Shiny Tool Syndrome with CEDAR helps you articulate the various tools you use, identify a clear purpose for each tool in your toolkit, and choose your best tools for doing what matters most to you.
The Guide to Reducing Shiny Tool Syndrome is now available on my revamped R21.5 Coaching website. I do hope you’ll check it out!