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Maybe I'm intelligent
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Looking around at the state of the world, I often find myself pondering the idea of "collective intelligence". Why can't we, collectively, make decisions that have the most positive impact on humanity and our planet? How do we, collectively, establish community cultures that are safe and inclusive?
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"Intelligence" is like genres, there's lots of different kinds. You might know people who are street smart or book smart or word smart. There's a theory that there are multiple intelligences, though the theory is highly criticised (as theories tend to be). How do these different brains unite together and make people happier and healthier?
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Happy is a "poorly defined problem", I've learned, and achieving contentment and happiness is something that wise people are skilled at. I would like to be wise, but I keep coming back to these massive societal problems that seem so intellectually simple to solve and the fact that we, collectively, refuse to solve them. Being intellectually capable, yet powerless, is a good way to stave off happiness, I guess.
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"There is, unfortunately no good word for “skill at solving poorly defined problems.” Insight, creativity, agency, self-knowledge—they’re all part of it, but not all of it. Wisdom comes the closest, but it suggests a certain fustiness and grandeur..." Adam Mastroianni
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Maybe I'm bored
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Summer just started a couple of weeks ago, I've been informed, so there's no way that I could be wasting it. I'm in what I would consider a typical winter mood. I'm tired lately. My batteries are empty. Mental hygiene seems to be tricky for those of us who are what philosophers might call "contemplative thinkers".
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"Writer's block has various degrees of severity, from difficulty in coming up with original ideas to being unable to produce work for years." Wikipedia
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Loads of people in my network publish regularly. Some of them publish multiple times a week. And I read these things that other people publish, but I can't seem to find that bit inside myself that makes me have anything to say. This newsletter is the only thing I write anymore, and it is always a struggle. I'm literally writing about not writing.
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Perhaps I need to work on finding my voice again. Perhaps I need a push. Perhaps I need to get angry. Perhaps I need to find hope. Perhaps I need to remember that while I'm bored af with my insides, others are experiencing them with interest. Perhaps I need to remember that life is a slow-burn.
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Whatever the reason for my inner flatness, I'm bored with it. Really and truly bored.
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Maybe I need help?
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I'm ok. Just bored, unfocused, unambitious and generally existential. You?
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