Accessing Universal Intelligence.
Human Ingenuity and Creativity. Our Cultural Heritage.
Favourite things. Music and Movies. Nature. Items that interest me on any topic.
Children’s relationships with soft toys is neither superficial nor
unimportant to psychological development. If you like our films, take a
look at our shop (we ship worldwide): https://goo.gl/bbNOLH
FURTHER READING Sometimes
you can catch important things about human nature in apparent
incidentals. It’s well observed that between the ages of around one and
twelve, many children manifest a deep attachment to a stuffed soft
object, normally shaped into a bear, a rabbit or – less often – a
penguin. The depth of the relationship can be extraordinary. The child
sleeps with it, talks to it, cries in front of it and tells it things it
would never tell anyone else. What’s truly remarkable is that the
animal looks after its owner, addressing him in a tone of unusual
maturity and kindness. It might, in a crisis, urge the child not to
worry and to look forward to better times in the future. But naturally,
the animal’s character is entirely made up. The animal is simply
something invented, or brought to life by one part of the child, in
order to look after the other. More at: http://www.thebookoflife.org/stuffed-...
MORE SCHOOL OF LIFE
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you speak a different language to English? Did you know you can submit
Subtitles on all of our videos on YouTube? For instructions how to do
this click here: https://goo.gl/ZPGmkH
One of the greatest obstacles to a good life is the expectation of
perfection.
If you like our films, take a look at our shop (we ship
worldwide): http://bit.ly/2c8SGST
Our website has classes, articles and products to help you think and grow: http://bit.ly/2c1DdTq "We typically aim for a particular career because we have been
deeply impressed by the exploits of the most accomplished practitioners
in the field. We formulate our ambitions by admiring the beautiful
structures of the architect tasked with designing the city’s new
airport, or by following the intrepid trades of the wealthiest Wall
Street fund manager, by reading the analyses of the acclaimed literary
novelist or sampling the piquant meals in the restaurant of a
prize-winning chef. We form our career plans on the basis of perfection.
Then,
inspired by the masters, we take our own first steps and trouble
begins. What we have managed to design, or make in our first month of
trading, or write in an early short story, or cook for the family is
markedly and absurdly, beneath the standard that first sparked our
ambitions. We who are so aware of excellence end up the least able to
tolerate mediocrity – which in this case, happens to be our own...."
You can read more on this article and other topics on our blog TheBookofLife.org at this link: http://bit.ly/2clTD85
Perfect is the enemy of good is
an aphorism,
an English variant of the older better is the enemy of good, which was
popularized by Voltaire
in French form.
Alternative forms include "the perfect is the enemy of the
good", which more closely translate French and earlier Italian sayings, or
"[the] perfect is the enemy of [the] good enough". Similar sentiments occur in
other phrases, including from English, and are all attested since around
1600.
The phrase is found in
Italian as Il meglio è nemico del bene (The better is enemy of the good),
attested since the 1603 Proverbi italiani (Italian Proverbs), by
Orlando
Pescetti.[2] The phrase was popularized
by Voltaire. He first used the saying in Italian in the article "Art Dramatique"
in the 1770 edition of the Dictionnaire
philosophique.[3]
It subsequently appeared in French in his moral poem, "La Bégueule", in Contes (Tales),
1772, which starts, ascribing it to an unnamed "Italian sage" or "wise
Italian":[4]
Dans ses écrits, un sage
Italien Dit
que le mieux est l'ennemi du bien.
(In his writings, a wise
Italian says that the best is the enemy of
good.)
This sentiment in English
literature can be traced back to Shakespeare,[5]
In his tragedy, King Lear, the
Duke of Albany
warns of "striving to better, oft we mar what's well" and in Sonnet
103:
Were it not sinful then, striving
to mend, To mar the subject that before was well?
A widely accepted
interpretation of "The perfect is the enemy of the good" is that one might never
complete a task if one has decided not to stop until it is perfect: completing
the project well is made impossible by striving to complete it perfectly.
Closely related is the Nirvana
fallacy, in which people never even
begin an important task because they feel reaching perfection is too
hard. An alternative interpretation is
that attempts to improve something may actually make it worse. Neither the
Shakespeare and Voltaire constructions suggest perfection, only improvement,
lending support to this interpretation.
The Pareto
principle or 80–20 rule is a 20th-century analogue. For example, it commonly
takes 20% of the full-time to complete 80% of a task, while to complete the last
20% of a task takes 80% of the effort.[7]
Achieving absolute perfection may be
impossible and so, as increasing effort results in diminishing
returns, further activity becomes
increasingly inefficient.
Robert Watson-Watt, who developed early warning radar in Britain to
counter the rapid growth of the Luftwaffe, propounded a "cult of the imperfect", which he
described as, "Give them the third best to go on with; the second best comes too
late, the best never comes."[8] [....]
The younger you start,the easier it will be. The young man in the video appears to be single and still living at home.Being a female, and married with children will take quite an effort but it can still be done.
Marie Kondo may be the biggest Japanese
export since miso soup, but her wild international popularity is mysterious and
no one, least of all the superstar herself, is convincingly able to explain
it.
Since the English-language publication of her
first book, a guide to keeping things tidy, she has achieved the kind of sales
usually associated with teenage wizards and middle-class mum-porn. The
Life-Changing Magic of Tidying has spent more than a year on The New York
Times bestseller list, and achieved similar status in Russia, France and Brazil.
Kondo has drawn crowds in New York and San Francisco, Paris, Warsaw and Milan.
But at the core of her books are ideas that, to most of her foreign readers at
least, can only come across as utterly bizarre.
“It’s when I explain that things have souls,” she
says. “For Japanese people, that’s perfectly natural. In Japan, people feel that
inanimate things are their equals. But people in Europe, for example, find it
difficult to understand.”
Kondo’s books are not just about folding and
packing and shelving and storing (although they include useful and original
advice on all of these matters). They are about achieving an intimate personal
relationship with the spirit immanent in your humblest possessions — and talking
to them. “Dear old screwdriver,” begins a soliloquy in her new book.
“I may not
use you much, but when I need you, why, you’re a genius. Thanks to you, I put
this shelf together in no time. You saved my fingernails, too. I would have
ruined them if I had used them to turn the screws. And what a design! Strong,
vigorous and cool to the touch, with a modern air that makes you really stand
out.”
This, it becomes clear, is a dimension beyond
Prince Charles-style mumbling to your pot plants. True disciples of Kondo thank
their earrings, salute their jackets and high-five their handbags. No household
item is too mundane to be the object of empathy and indulgence. “Have you ever
had the experience where you thought that what you were doing was a good thing
but later learnt that it hurt someone?” she asks in her first book, with the raw
anguish of personal experience. “This is somewhat similar to the way many of us
treat our socks.”
Even to find a publisher for this sort of stuff
might be regarded as a lucky break, but The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying has
gone a great deal further than that. It has been published in 21 countries, from
Romania to Thailand, with 17 more in the pipeline; Arabic and Lithuanian are the
newest languages to be added to the list, alongside Hebrew, Bulgarian and
Vietnamese. The KonMari method, as it is known in Japanese, is brilliant,
singular and bonkers, and it has sold 4.8 million copies around the
world.
Kondo’s name — often in the form of the hashtag
#kondoed — has even entered the English language. Twitter users speak of
kondoing their bedrooms, their email inboxes, even the excess apps on their
iPhones.
I’d like to say that I knew Marie Kondo
before she was famous, but that would be true only in a relative sense. The
first time I met her, early last year, she was merely a bestseller in Japan,
Germany and South Korea. I invited her to my Tokyo flat to perform an
abbreviated version of the six-month-long, multi-session tidying consultations —
a kind of psychotherapy for the home — that she has conducted over the years
with hundreds of clients, and which served as the laboratory in which she
developed her ideas.
Like all the best mental revolutions, it is disarmingly
simple. Forget about finding the perfect drawers or cupboards. The first and
most important step is simply to take your possessions, starting with clothes of
the same type, tip them out on the floor, hold each one individually to the
light and ask yourself, “Does this spark joy?” If joy is indeed kindled, the
item must be retained, carefully assigned a place of storage, folded in the
regulation Kondo style, and regularly and lavishly praised. Objects that fail to
spark joy are to be thanked, stroked, apologised to and then ruthlessly
consigned to the rubbish. The result, Kondo insists, is not only a tidier home,
but a life enhanced.
Kondo’s clients report profound consequences from
the simple act of having uncluttered their homes. Some have lost weight, or
finally walked out of dead-end jobs. Some have found the conviction to get
married; others the strength to divorce. “If you feel anxious all the time but
are not sure why, try putting your things in order,” Kondo writes in her new
book, Spark Joy: An Illustrated Guide to the Japanese Art of Tidying.
I enjoyed
my brief encounter with Kondo — the underwear drawer on which she worked her
magic remains the most orderly part of my home. I have no interest in
conventional self-help, but I completely saw the point of her distinctive method
and her observation that external clutter can be a symptom of inner unhappiness.
But neither I, nor anyone else, imagined that, barely a year later, she would be
ranked alongside Angela Merkel, Pope Francis and Kim Jong-un in Time’s list of
the world’s 100 most influential people. And so I went to see Kondo again to try
to work out who she is, and how on Earth all of this happened.
In Japan, people often become remoter and less
interesting the more famous they become — and at first I feared this had
happened to Kondo. Setting up our meeting required 39 emails, relayed from my
office in Tokyo, through a publicist in London, an agent in New York, to a
publisher in Tokyo — with the answers returning from Japan to Japan via the
reverse route.
I had assumed that since she had not only been to my flat but run
her hands over my underwear, this time I could expect to visit Kondo’s place and
have a nose around the home of the world’s tidiest person — but this, it was
firmly explained, was out of the question. Having negotiated these obstacles and
found my way to her office, however, Kondo was just as I remembered — sweet,
self-deprecating, unpompous and faintly mysterious.
The first thing that strikes you is how little of
her there is. Even by local standards, she is elfin, almost childlike, in
stature and build. She is 30 years old and, like many Japanese women, could pass
for eight years younger. It is no surprise to find that she is neatly turned
out, but there is a quality about her beyond mere tidiness, an air of deep
restraint and conservatism.
This immaculate exterior is all the more remarkable
for the other transformation, apart from international bestsellerdom, that has
come over Kondo. After marrying last year, in July she gave birth to a baby
girl, Satsuki. “It’s a drastic change,” she says, “because my life is not my own
any more. Until I had a daughter, my life was devoted to the work of tidying. I
was totally focused on my work. So this way of life is quite new. Now my
happiness is her, and looking after her, and watching her grow up.”
Kondo’s husband, Takumi Kawahara, was her
university boyfriend, and now serves as her manager and photographer. Not
surprisingly, she says, he is an orderly fellow; indeed, this seems to have been
a central part of his attraction. “After we married, when we moved in together,
he brought only five cardboard boxes with him.” Five boxes: in the Kondo
universe, such asceticism is as thrilling as a rippling six-pack or a powerful
sports car.
“It was a surprise,” she says of her huge
international sales. “My publisher warned me that it’s rare for a Japanese
bestseller to become a bestseller overseas, particularly in America. But it’s
difficult to say what has changed, really.” What, after all, is a woman whose
life is dedicated to uncluttering to spend her riches on? A new home — a
humble-sounding two-bedroom apartment in central Tokyo.
The beginnings of all this can be precisely
pinpointed to an afternoon in 2001, when Kondo was 16. She grew up in a
middle-class home, the second of three children. Her father is a salaryman, her
mother a housewife, and an avid reader of women’s magazines. By the age of five,
Marie was already poring over them for their housekeeping techniques. “As far as
everything else went — cleaning, washing, sewing — I could do it,” she says.
“The only thing I couldn’t do was tidying up.” The failure became an obsession.
“At school, while other kids were playing dodgeball or skipping,” she wrote,
“I’d slip away to arrange the bookshelves in our classroom, or check the
contents of the mop cupboard … I had begun to see my things and even my house as
an adversary that I had to beat.”
One day, without warning or consultation, she
threw out one of her father’s suits and her mother’s handbag. Her defence — that
they were never used — went unheard: Marie’s tidying activities were banned. “I
thought that tidying up meant throwing things out — I saw it only in negative
terms,” she says. “That was what led to my nervous breakdown. One day, I came
home from school. There was no one else at home. I still had my uniform on. I
was already looking for something I could get rid of. I walked into my room with
the rubbish bag in my hand. And I looked at my room, and felt that I wanted to
throw out everything in it. That was the climax of my stress, and at that
moment I collapsed unconscious.”
Two hours passed before young Marie came round. “I
stood up and in my mind came the words, ‘Look at things more carefully.’ I don’t
know if it was an actual voice, or a feeling that came from myself. I believe it
was the god of tidying.” It came to her that she had been looking at things the
wrong way round — rather than seeking out unneeded objects to throw out, she
should be identifying the things she loved and wanted to keep. “That was the
moment when I had my inspiration,” she said. “That was when the KonMari method
was born.”
I can’t be alone in suspecting that there must be
more to this story. For a 16-year-old girl to feel irritable about clutter in
her bedroom is one thing, but to fall unconscious suggests much deeper
unhappiness. “I can say that when I collapsed I was unhappy,” she agrees. “I
didn’t like anything I had — the clothes, the odds and ends in my room.” But was
she unhappy in other ways? “I don’t remember clearly, but I didn’t feel unhappy
in relationships, including my parents and friends. I just wanted to tidy up.”
Surely there must have been something else going wrong in her life, apart from
mess? “I’d say that I had lost the balance in myself, balance of any kind,
because all I was interested in was tidying up. I didn’t like any of my things.
I thought about them in a mean way. That’s why I collapsed.”
A period of anguish. A moment of
spiritual crisis and breakdown.
Then rebirth, divine revelation and
enlightenment. Even if this doesn’t make sense as a story about a teenager in
her bedroom, it makes one thing clear — the KonMari method has as much to do
with religion as it does with spring cleaning. As a young woman, Kondo served as
an attendant “maiden” in a shrine dedicated to Shinto, the indigenous religion
of Japan.
Shinto has no scripture, no commandments, no code of ethics or system
of philosophical speculation. Its deities are to be found in mountains, trees,
rocks and man-made objects such as cooking stoves and individual grains of rice.
Its rituals are concerned not with morality but with purification; the contrast
between clean and unclean is as strong in Shinto as the dualism of right and
wrong in other religions. Kondo’s white blouse, her love of cleansing hot
springs, and her insistence on the souls of socks all derive from this
source.
“Japan has many earthquakes,” Kondo says. “The
earthquakes cause fires, and traditionally houses were all made of wood, which
burnt so easily. In the past, many Japanese have had the experience of
destruction in which they lost everything and had to rebuild from scratch. So I
think that Japanese find it easier to get rid of things than Westerners do. They
can accept that what they possess now will not be with them always, because that
kind of thinking is part of their DNA.” Few of them will be aware of it, but the
inhabitants of city lofts and suburban townhouses who excitedly kondo their
closets are acting out a secular version of an ancient nature religion, rooted
in thousands of years of catastrophic Japanese history. [....] By Richard Lloyd Parry
“The past is a foreign country: they do things differently there.” –L.P. Hartley
Looking
at old photos, it's hard not to feel a kind of wanderlust—a pang of
nostalgia for times you've never experienced. The desire to wade into
the blurred-edge sepia haze that hangs in the air between people who
leer stoically into this dusty and dangerous future, whose battered
shoes are anchors locked fast in the fantasy that none of it risks
turning out any other way but the way it happened.
THE DICTIONARY OF OBSCURE SORROWS http://www.dictionaryofobscuresorrows... The
Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows is a compendium of invented words written
by John Koenig. Each original definition aims to fill a hole in the
language—to give a name to emotions we all might experience but don’t
yet have a word for. Follow the project, give feedback, suggest an
emotion you need a word for, or just tell me about your day.
Well, it seems we can’t quite “let it go’’ yet, with Disney Films
confirming it’s making a sequel to its gargantuan hit Frozen.
This
comes as no surprise. To date, Frozen has taken in about $1.3 billion at the box
office, and that’s before taking into account the millions of dollars the film
raised in merchandise, of which I believe my own household contributed a not
inconsiderable portion.
(Mine too! Frozen parties are all the rage!)
Frozen was a runaway hit for Disney, and deservedly so, featuring
two female heroines and a nice twist on the “handsome prince to the rescue”
theme — which we all know doesn’t always end in a fairy tale, don’t we
girls?
Now,
while there are wonderful lessons in Frozen for the little girls of this world,
the film also contains some wisdom we all could benefit from.
So,
in no particular order, here are some of the lessons Frozen has taught
us.
Let it go. Obviously, this is the big one, which Taylor Swift cleverly turned
into “Shake It Off”, and also made a motza. But the message is a good one. That
boy who broke your heart? That girl who you thought was your friend, but turned
out to be your frenemy? That co-worker who you are sure stole your sandwich out
of the work fridge? Let it go, girl, let it go. Remember, you are one with the
wind and sky.
Do not hide your child’s different-ness. Imagine if instead of hiding Elsa away when they discovered her
cryokinetic powers, her parents had enrolled her at a school for gifted children
instead. Or, alternatively entered her in The X Factor … “What a pretty dress
Elsa, very nice blue — and what do you do?” “I’m going to freeze the entire
studio audience.’’ “Lovely!”
Beware the quickie engagement. You
know how it is, girl. You meet a man who seems to fall instantly and totally in
love with you. He showers you with roses, he tells everyone he meets you are the
one, he proposes, and you, caught up in the giddy romance of it all, accept and
the next thing you know, he’s plotting your death and planning to take over your
kingdom. These sorts of men are everywhere, and I’m sure there’s probably an
actual term for them, and this sort of behaviour. But now, thanks to Frozen, we
can just refer to them as “Prince Hans’s”.
The ladeez love the tradies. We
do, and with good reason. They’re so practical, so manly, so handy in an eternal
winter, aren’t they? And really, who wouldn’t have picked hunky Kristoff
breaking all that ice with his bare hands over Hans, with his bouffant hairdo
and equestrian boots? Also, it turns out he was a narcissistic, psychopathic
killer, which is never attractive.
Sisters stick together. Sisters can fall out, have the world’s biggest screaming matches,
call each other every single name under the sun, physically attack each other,
accidentally freeze each others hearts to death, and still love each other.
Another interesting fact about sisters that may be handy for men to know, is
while they can call each other every name under the sun, you cannot. Indeed you
can listen for years against a non-stream tirade against a particular sister,
but the moment you actually join in, you will receive a stare as cold as ice,
and wish your own heart had actually been frozen to death.
The best men are usually the “Fixer-uppers”. Remember that scene in Frozen when Hans’s troll family tried to
convince Anna to marry him on the basis that while he was a long way from
perfect, he was an excellent fixer-upper? This was excellent advice because
smart girls know the best men are the ones who are a little unfinished, a little
unsure of their path in the world, a little rough around the edges. So we can
change them.
Love is an open door. Well, sometimes, but you may want to check first that it leads to
an actual person, and not a stairwell.
An unconscious crack of the knuckles, an automatic grab for the salt shaker, a seemingly
innocuous eye roll in front of the boss. Bad habits are way too easy to come by
and, despite whatever quick-remedy self-help cure-all is blowing up the Internet
this week, often way too hard to break.
Whether it's that innocent flip of the hair or
something much more insidious, behaviors learned over time — and reinforced time
and time again — mostly can't be changed in a couple weeks. That was the major
takeaway of a study done in 2009, the results of which appeared in the European Journal of Social
Psychology.
Certainly, bad habits can be changed. That's the
good news. People stop smoking, give up chocolate, get off the couch to start
exercising and stop torturing their poor knuckles all the time. Good habits can
be formed to replace bad ones, too. In fact, switching out nasty for nice is
something scientists and psychologists have been preaching for
years.
But changing a lifetime of cola-guzzling, for
just an example, in a couple weeks? In 21 days?
Well, it's possible. Maybe. But you'd better
plan for it to take a lot longer than that.
"I think that's one of the biggest problems,
when people think they can do anything in three weeks," Amy Morin, a
psychotherapist, clinical social worker and author of "13 Things Mentally Strong People Don't
Do," told MNN. "I think that can set us up
for failure."
Number 13 on Morin's list — which first appeared
as a blog post on lifehack.org, then went practically viral in other places,
with more than 10 million total views — is especially pertinent when it comes to
breaking bad habits. Mentally strong people, Morin insists at the bottom of her list, don't expect immediate
results.
"When you think about it, even from a logical
level, it makes no sense," Morin said of the 21 days to a miracle movement. "We
really like our habits. [Breaking them] requires a lot of hard work. I think we
underestimate how hard it's going to be. And we overestimate our abilities [to
break the habits]."
The paper in the European
Journal of Social Psychology studied the length of time it took participants in
a study to replace bad habits with good ones. The fastest was an astonishing 18
days. But the average time to change, among the participants who self-reported
their results, was not three weeks but closer to three months (66 days). The
high end of the spectrum, for replacing bad with good, was a whopping 254
days.
So someone expecting to
change a life habit in 21 days — no matter how motivated that someone might be,
or who that someone might be — is probably expecting a little too much. Still,
huge numbers of books (just check out this
Amazon list) all but promise that it
can be done in 21 days or so by following a few easy steps. And, of course, by
shelling out a few bucks for the book. Plus shipping and
handling.
"The more you do it,"
Patricia A. Farrell, PhD, a clinical psychologist in Englewood, New Jersey, and
author of "How
to Be your Own Therapist," told WebMD,
"the more difficult it is to get rid if it."
It's hard to pinpoint where the
idea that it takes just 21 days to kick a bad habit began. Many cite a 1960 work
from a plastic surgeon, Dr. Maxwell Maltz, who is regarded as a pioneer in the
self-help book industry. His book, "Psycho-Cybernetics: A New Way to Get More
Living Out of Life," centers on improving a person's self-image. Some of his
advice for breaking bad habits: "To change a habit, make a conscious decision,"
he said, "then act out the new behavior."
Ahhh, if only it were that
simple.
A lot of psychological
and biological reasons exist to explain why it's so difficult to lose a bad
habit. One important one: Some of our most enjoyable or satisfying actions (say,
reaching for the salt or pulling off that oh-so-sweet crack of the knuckles)
trigger the production of dopamine in the brain. Dopamine is present when we do
it over and over again, creating the habit, Dr. Russell Poldrack, a
neurobiologist at the University of Texas at Austin, says in this National
Institute of Health feature. And
dopamine creates a craving to repeat the behavior. Again and again and
again.
So even when the behavior
itself does not provide
the satisfaction we crave — that salt
just isn't making those fries taste any better, and that knuckle-crack was just
okay — the body is telling you to keep going for it anyway.
It's important to keep in mind,
as experts everywhere will tell you, that kicking a habit, even the nastiest of
habits, is doable. Whole books — heck, whole libraries — are available to
explain the steps that must be taken to break a bad habit and keep it broken.
First off: acknowledging that there is a bad habit. Writing down your goals.
And "put your gym shoes where the remote is," Morin suggests for a start to
kicking that TV addiction and getting in shape.
The better news is that
trashing those bad habits and replacing them with good ones can be absolutely
transformational. Even if it might take a little more than three weeks to do
it. By John Donovan