I love you for completing me, in every possible way. I cannot imagine life without you! 😘

You haven’t changed a bit in all the ways that matter!
And so …

Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
(Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven’s gate;
        For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
        That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

— The Bard (as rendered by the Dench)

To quote Sara Bareilles’, Orpheus …

Don’t stop trying to find me here amidst the chaos
Though I know it’s blinding, there’s a way out
Say out loud
We will not give up on love now,

No fear, don’t you turn like Orpheus, just stay here
Hold me in the dark, and when the day appears
We’ll say
We did not give up on love today

You will always be the better half, of the two of us 🙂

The last five years have been, to put it mildly, a bit trying.
I lost my father, my brother, my clients¹, and quite a bit of my sanity.
I lost a lot of weight and then gained it all again.
The career pivot is going slower than expected.
I feel pettily jealous of the bright young minds I mentor, when they go on to accomplish great new things, while I am here, clawing the mud.
There are days, I don’t want to get out of bed at all.

And then I have to remind myself, that all of this could change in an instant.
There was no way I could be sure when I slept yesterday, that I would see the dawn today.
While I crib and cry boohoo at my life, there are folks who struggle physically, mentally, and spiritually a lot more than I do.

Even when I thought my world was falling apart, there were so many things that held my body, mind and soul together.
I stood on a mountain, to touch the clouds.
I’ve walked in mossy green forests.
I stood with my beloved under the stars, as it rained light upon us.
I have my health.
I have my friends, young and old, new and old.
I have my mother and the rest of my family.
I have my long suffering, better half. The one who makes life worth living. My rock. My anchor. The one who makes me whole.
I’m surrounded by warmth and love.
I remain blessed.

And so, I remain doggedly, carpe diem-ly, persistent.
I remain grateful.
I will do my best to, as May Swenson² puts it,

Enter each day
as upon a stage
lighted and waiting
for your step

Crave upward as flame
have keenness in the nostril
Give your eyes
to agony or rapture

and to …

Take earth for your own large room
and the floor of the earth
carpeted with sunlight
and hung round with silver wind
for your dancing place

For the past twenty years, you’ve been the bane of my existence.
I slept with the phone by the bedside, never knowing when Mummy would call, and one of us would have to come find you, and dig you out of the newest hole you dug for yourself. And none of those years have been harder, than the one where we were estranged for the past year. Two decades of picking up after you had taken their toll.

I told you repeatedly over the years, that while all was always forgiven, it was hard for me to forget. Especially since I lived amidst the wreckage of your actions.
In fits of frustration, I would wail to Abby or Mummy, “Why doesn’t this boy understand?”

Until you decided to move on.

You were always my boy.
I taught you to walk.
I made you laugh.
I taught you cricket. I outgrew it, but it was a lifelong passion with you.

With the exception of your weakness, you were the best of us.
You outsang us in choir, even as a three year old.
You probably were the only person who I’d say was more generous than Daddy was. (to the extent of people taking advantage of your gullibility so many times.)
You had the most joie-de-vivre. You made us laugh.
You were sensitive and kind. Nobody who met you, would come away unhappy or sad.
And for all your foibles, I believe that you loved Mummy and Daddy the most. I might be responsible, Derrick might be caring, but you had the biggest heart.

You gave me your love for animals.
You saved Puppy, by making sure she lived as a puppy.
You jumped into that large stinking drain and pulled her out later, when she got stuck. Foxy, Puppy, Little Puppy, Two Socks, Pink Nose or Popsicle would not be here, if it wasn’t for you.

I might have been the straitlaced one, and you and Derrick have a bond, that is actually brotherly, but both of you had no problems defending an older brother who took life too seriously.
You believed in me blindly. You believed I could be wrong a hundred ways to Sunday, but I would never wrong you intentionally.

So I choose to remember everything that was good about you.
Derrick told me, your last words to him were, “Good, you came.”
I want to imagine you only held on, until you felt like you were back home.
And now that you’re with Daddy, I hope to see you one day, and I hope you tell me, “Good, you came” too.
You will always be my boy.
I love you.

Much like our marriage.
We make the best stories, don’t we?
And I am who I am, because of you.
Eleven years, and it still feels like only yesterday. ¹
I love you.

Like the old hymn goes …

You alone are my strength, my shield … to you alone may my spirit yield
You alone are my hearts desire … 🎵

Lots of links in this letter, because there won’t be a work letter later, this month :)
This one is all about, drum roll … Reading :)

You know the drill. Click the headers to wander off to the original articles.

Books I Read Last Month

• So Good They Can’t Ignore you, is a book I strangely keep coming back to.
  Lots to learn about how to build a sustainable career
• Needle Points, You need to do the work required to hold a fair opinion. Tablet’s long form piece helped me understand vaccine hesitancy.
• I finally got tired of waiting for the old man to finish his series, and started reading everything around it, to immerse myself in The World of Ice & Fire This was almost as fun as discovering and reading A Game of Thrones in the late 90s. Only for completionists though. It’ll feel like a slog for anyone who is not a fan. If he still keeps dilly dallying, I might have to go watch the TV series next.
• And Discipline Equals Freedom, just for that semi regular kick in the pants.

You’ve read the classic works of stoicism. Now what? The Daily Stoic helps with, Assembling A “Bible” of Stoicism: What To Read After The Romans

The world in which a man lives shapes itself chiefly by the way in which he looks at it, and so it proves different to different men; to one it is barren, dull, and superficial; to another rich, interesting, and full of meaning.
On hearing of the interesting events which have happened in the course of a man’s experience, many people will wish that similar things had happened in their lives too, completely forgetting that they should be envious rather of the mental aptitude which lent those events the significance they possess when he describes them …
All the pride and pleasure of the world, mirrored in the dull consciousness of a fool, are poor indeed compared with the imagination of Cervantes writing his Don Quixote in a miserable prison.

— Schopenhauer, The Wisdom of Life (1851)

P.S. And if you haven’t read the classic works and if you are new and want to explore the Stoic way of thinking about life, I heartily recommend Ryan Holiday’s trilogy for a gentle introduction. The Obstacle is the Way, Ego is the Enemy and Stillness is the key are short yet surprisingly deep and engaging books.

Ali Abdaal teaches us, The Art of Reading More Effectively and Efficiently

Level 4: Syntopical Reading
The final level of reading is about our understanding of a subject more generally. Whereas analytical reading focuses on our comprehension of a specific book, syntopical reading helps shape our opinion and increase our overall fluency of the wider topic through understanding how different books relate to one another. This may sound a little abstract, but bear with me.

“The benefits [of syntopical reading] are so great that it is well worth the trouble of learning how to do it”
— Mortimer Adler

The first step is to begin by deciding the subject we want to tackle (eg: productivity or habit-formation). We can then draw up a bibliography of books on the topic, and select just a handful of them that we believe to be most relevant.

Having compiled the list of books, we can begin reading syntopically. This means reading each of the books analytically and building mental connections between each of them. I try to define common subject keywords in my own words, identify and answer the most pressing questions that the books collectively address, and make an informed decision about the strengths of each author’s argument.

“Creativity is just connecting things”
— Steve Jobs

Through syntopical reading we’re connecting the best ideas on a subject, which acts as a powerful catalyst giving rise to creative solutions and real insight. It’s truly game-changing (when we actually do it).

Shane Parrish distills Adler in How to Read a Book: The Ultimate Guide by Mortimer Adler

I bet you already know how to read a book. You were taught in elementary school.
But do you know how to read well?
There is a difference between reading for understanding and reading for information.
If you’re like most people, you probably haven’t given much thought to how you read. And how you read makes a massive difference to knowledge accumulation.
A lot of people confuse knowing the name of something with understanding. While great for exercising your memory, the regurgitation of facts without solid understanding and context gains you little in the real world.
A useful heuristic: Anything easily digested is reading for information.
Consider the newspaper, are you truly learning anything new? Do you consider the writer your superior when it comes to knowledge in the subject? Odds are probably not. That means you’re reading for information. It means you’re likely to parrot an opinion that isn’t yours as if you had done the work.
This is how most people read. But most people aren’t really learning anything new. It’s not going to give you an edge, make you better at your job, or allow you to avoid problems.

“Marking a book is literally an experience of your differences or agreements with the author. It is the highest respect you can pay him.”
— Edgar Allen Poe

Learning something insightful requires mental work. It’s uncomfortable. If it doesn’t hurt, you’re not learning. You need to find writers who are more knowledgeable on a particular subject than yourself. By narrowing the gap between the author and yourself, you get smarter.

Farnam Street has an awesome page, chockful of articles, that help us become better readers

You can’t get where you want to go if you’re not learning all the time. One of the best ways to learn is to read.

Reading habits don’t need to be complicated, you can start a simple 25 page a day habit right now. While it seems small the gains add up quickly.

Above all else remember that just because you’ve read something doesn’t mean you’ve done the work required to have an opinion.

and also

Quit Books

Bad books are a grind. Good books almost read themselves.

When you pick up a good book you feel it instantly. Not only are they well written and packed with ideas and insight, but they’re well organized. You want to read the next page.

Start books quickly but give them up easily. One of the biggest things that holds people back when reading is our desire to finish what we start. Good books finish themselves. You can’t put them down. Trying to finish a bad book, on the other hand, is like walking through the mud with a wheelbarrow full of bricks. Life is too short.

When it comes to reading, you don’t need to finish what you start.

Once you realize that you can quit bad books (or reading anything for that matter) without guilt, everything changes. Putting a bad book down creates the opportunity and space for a great book.

Skim a lot of books. Read a few. Immediately re-read the best ones twice.

That’s all for now, folks. See you in the new year!
But before I go, this beautiful Gaiman poem (the pic above) reminds me,

Sometimes it only takes a stranger, in a dark place,
to hold out a badly knitted scarf, to offer a kind word, to say
we have the right to be here, …

So, this Christmas …
I’m grateful, you’re a part of my life.
I’m grateful, you’ve made me a part of yours.
I’m grateful, you’ve given me the right to belong to your world!
I wish you be happy, I wish you love, and as ever I wish you warmth!
Merry Christmas!

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P.P.S. Feed my insatiable reading habit.

Ok, I’m a day late, but hopefully not a dollar short¹ :)
This work letter is going out to all of you my friends, because there’s not much technical stuff in here.

And because I have a spot of good news to share.
I got a jobby job!
I’ve been trying the past few years, to switch my career to something that wasn’t as taxing, as consulting on hardware and networks and integrating systems.
While I loved the work, it was a lot of work, for not enough money and it took a toll on my physical health.²
So writing software from the comfort of my home, is it.
And two weeks in, the team’s taken me under their wing and they are guiding me along and I’m loving it!

And now that’ve gotten all that happy Wheeeeeee! out of my system, on to our letter :)

Human Computer: The Forgotten Women’s Profession

By WWII, with all hands needed for the war effort, the Army hired a group of women computers to calculate artillery trajectories. These women worked as support to the engineers and were brought on because computing was still thought to be menial and low status work; too dull for the highly educated men on staff who wanted more exciting jobs. This disregards the fact that in order to solve these equations these women would have to re-work the same calculations over and over again for hours. Former computer, Marilyn Heyson, recalled in an interview that the job was intellectually interesting, but a marathon. These calculations not only required great mental endurance, patience, and attention to detail, but advanced mathematical skill.

The dance between the long tail and the short head

The disconnect occurs when producers and creators try to average things out and dumb things down, hoping for the big hit that won’t come. Or overspend to get there. The opportunity lies in finding a viable audience and matching the project’s focus and budget to the people who truly want it.

And the dance continues.

Ten reasons to write a book

I’d say these translate well to just writing and publishing yourself on your blog, in general too!
Here’s four …

• It clarifies your thinking.
• It’s a project that is completely and totally up to you.
• Because it’s a generous way to share.
• It will increase your authority in your field.

So long and see you next month folks :)

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Dear Abby, it’s been a decade.
And it’s flown by us like a quarrel of sparrows.
Here now, and vanished in the next instant.
And yet when I look back on it, we’ve been through so much.

You know me more, than I know myself by now.
Here’s to, till death do us part.
I love you.

And like the poet says in his Dark Sonnet

I really don’t know
“I Love You” means
I think it means
“Don’t leave me here alone.”

A few days late, but Happy Diwali, folks! :)

A small ask of you, to begin with.
Like I wrote in the past, I don’t have any sort of tracking in these mails.
There are no ads, nothing to push. Just a labour of love.
So I have no idea whether these posts resonate or I’m just howling into the storm that is your inbox.
If you like it, hate it, agree/disagree, write me :)
All I get to see are a couple of folk leaving, every once in a while, and my list, my tribe in fact is really tiny and it feels a bit discouraging.¹

So share this with friends and ask them to subscribe and write to me and tell me how much you love the letters and make me happy :)
What is a festive season without a bit of emotional, tugging of the heartstrings? 😂

On to our letter!
You know the drill! Click the headers, to wander off to the original articles and read them :)

Why You Should Stop Reading News, Shane Parrish

Rarely do we stop to ask ourselves questions about the media we consume:
Is this good for me?
Is this dense with detailed information?
Is this important?
Is this going to stand the test of time?
Is the person writing someone who is well informed on the issue?
Asking those questions makes it clear the news isn’t good for you.

“[W]e’re surrounded by so much information that is of immediate interest to us, that we feel overwhelmed by the never-ending pressure of trying to keep up with it all.”

— Nicolas Carr

Shane, once again on, How to Remember What You Read

If you only remember six things after reading this article, it should be the following truths about reading:

1. Quality matters more than quantity. If you read one book a month but fully appreciate and absorb it, you’ll be better off than someone who skims half the library without paying attention.

• Speed-reading is bullshit. Getting the rough gist and absorbing the lessons are two different things. Confuse them at your peril.
• Book summary services miss the point. A lot of companies charge ridiculous prices for access to vague summaries bearing only the faintest resemblance to anything in the book. Summaries can be a useful jumping-off point to explore your curiosity, but you cannot learn from them the way you can from the original text.
• Fancy apps and tools are not needed. A notebook, index cards, and a pen will do just fine.
• We shouldn’t read stuff we find boring. Life is far too short.
• Finishing the book is optional. You should start a lot of books and only finish a few of them.

Complement with Nicky Case’s amazing website, applet, spaced repetition teaching aid, explorable explanation, How To Remember Anything Forever (…ish)

Tony Stark nearly gasped as a gloved hand trailed down his spine. The steady pressure was smooth and almost reassuring. Obama chuckled. “You mean, the–

This is why we write, Neil Gaiman

This little piece on Neil’s blog is so heartwarming, empowering and inspiring, that I refuse to spoil it for you.
Go read and smile :)

So long for now, and I’ll play catch up next month :)
Remember to write! ²

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P.P.P.S If you love language and word jokes as much as I do, this should keep you chuckling.³ (once when you read the thread and then for the next couple of days as you keep thinking about it.)

Kushal Das, for bringing me in, teaching me the ropes and assuring me there was a place for me here

Reuven Lerner, who unravelled Python for me and made me realise that languages were small, and the reason I was struggling was not Python, but because I wanted to understand all of computer science in too short a time frame.¹

David Malan and Brian Yu for the grounding that is CS50.

Dr. Chuck (Charles Severance) for opening my eyes to the wonder that is web programming.
And databases, and Postgresql.
And Django.
And so much more!
You taught me how the pieces fit.

Julia Evans for showing me that being good at sharing knowledge, is not magic, just a lot of hard work and dedication.
And for teaching me oh so much, with your magical zines.

Mark Lutz for his exhaustive, thorough books on Python.

Damian Conway for making regexes make sense.²

Barbara Oakley, for teaching an old dog how to learn.

Cal Newport and Scott Young for helping me put it into practice (deliberately 😂)

Brad Traversy, while he may not have melted my mind, he is the embodiment of everything i learnt from the teachers above. Patient, humble, transparent, persistent, all round hero.

And last, but certainly not least, my young friend and mentee, Priyanka Saggu, for teaching me dogged persistence and for being an unabashed cheerleader on my journey.

All of this to say, good teachers are hard to find, and are worth their weight in gold. For every teacher on the list above, I failed with at least 5 more.

If you ever feel dumb, despite doing your best, like I constantly did, maybe it’s just the fact that the teacher and you are not compatible. The way they teach, might not be the way you understand

Which is why, if you are privileged enough to do so (or are willing to put in the time and the effort), there is no shame in looking for a ‘better’ teacher. No worries in doing the work of finding that someone who can make stuff go ‘click’ in your mind; who can make the world make better sense to you

My experience has been that such folk are hard to find, and when you do luck across gems (like the people above) make sure they know it.
Be grateful that life has brought you to them.
And make sure you learn all you can, to the best of your ability.

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I lost my Mai today.

Until my mid 30s, I rued the gulf that stood between Mai and me.
While my parents insistence on teaching us English, as our primary language has benefited me immensely, in most everything I do, the one thing that I feel sad about is that I speak my mother tongue (Konkani) in a slow halting manner. ¹
Which meant that I never could talk well with my grandmother.
I am one of her oldest grandchildren, and I never got to have heart to heart conversations with her, the way my other cousins did.
And yet …

My earliest memories are full of her.
Mai means mother. Odli Mai (Big Mother) is grandmother.
But to a young me, Mummy was Mother and Mai was grandmother.
Born as I was, to a young girl in her early twenties, what I got from mummy was fierce love and passionate discipline.
What Mai gave me was gentle love and wisdom.
What Mai gave me was a patient ear.
I could talk a mile a minute, and Mai understood nothing of my English gibberish.
She’d just make coo noises and hug me (and then figure out what it was that I just blabbed, from Mummy.)

I know nothing of her childhood or youth.
I know nothing of what she was as a wife and the mistress of the farm, eking a hard existence from the land.
I only know snippets of her, as a mom of a large brood of nine children.
The only thing I know, is that she was my Mai.
And that she loved me as no one else ever could.

I wish I could have kept the shirt, made out the cloth she stole and sneaked into my arms when no one was looking. All because I thought every other godmother gave their god children gifts and mine ought to, too! ²
I wish I could have kept a seed out of all the fruits she plucked for me, from the trees on the farm. (I was too busy sucking on mangoes, and then handing the seeds over to her to throw, while she laughed and howled at me ‘Paara pathlyaan dhaanv’ (Run after that seed)).
I wish I had seen her more, as I began working, as we both grew older.
And yet …

Maybe we did not need language.
She is the reason, I got over my fear of dogs (and other animals).
She is the reason, I still crazily love the outdoors and communing with nature.
She is the reason, I took to stoicism to help me through the storms of life. She was stoicism in action, my modern day Marcus Aurelius and Epictetus all rolled into one.
She is the reason, along with daddy, that I love practicing irrational generosity.

Maybe that is her legacy to me.
I carry her with me.
In my bones, in my marrow.
In my words and deeds.
And just like Shelley never let Keats die, I know, I carry my ancestors with me.
As long I remember them and celebrate their words and deeds, they live.
My father is here.
My nana is here.
Mai is here!

Because her touch and her actions spoke more than language ever could.
To me, Mai means mother or godmother or big mother and grandmother.
Or maybe Mai could just mean a big old heart, full of love.

Yes, I preordered Cal Newport’s, A World without Email.

https://www.calnewport.com/blog/2021/02/10/announcing-the-email-academy/

India folk, go here - https://www.amazon.in/World-Without-Email-Reimagining-Overload/dp/0241341418/

Having read 5 of his books, I know this will make a big difference to my life.

What I have actually done though, is tried to repay Cal in a small manner for his podcast at https://www.calnewport.com/podcast/

Now that is pure gold! If you haven’t been listening, you have sorely missed out on a ton of productivity tactical gems.
You have also missed out on how to go about thinking about things as he often does on the podcast, going back and forth on an idea, trying to wrestle with its vagaries and then attempting to distill it to its essence.

This weekend is not a bad time to go binge listen :)

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P.P.S. Feed my insatiable reading habit.

A final thought from Atomic Habits as we start the new year:

“Improvements are only temporary until they become part of who you are.

• The goal is not to read a book, the goal is to become a reader.

• The goal is not to run a marathon, the goal is to become a runner.

• The goal is not to learn an instrument, the goal is to become a musician.

This year, focus on the identity you want to build.”

— James Clear

While I was able to serendipitously catch it as soon as it happened, I apologise if you were the recepient of unsavoury stuff from my email address.
I am now in the process of rebuilding everything.

letter at janusworx dot com is the new home from where these letters will be sent from.
Please add this address to your contacts, so that I do not end up in your spam :)

I am still picking up the pieces.
I hope to slowly do over everything. And I hope to resume in the New Year.

Before I put my pen down and bid you adieu, let me wish you all a Very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
And as ever, I wish you warmth!

Sometimes it only takes a stranger, in a dark place,
to hold out a badly knitted scarf, to offer a kind word, to say
we have the right to be here, to make us warm in the coldest season.

You have the right to be here!

— Neil Gaiman

Love and warmth,
Jason

P.S. The poem in beautifully illustrated link above, is a Neil Gaiman creation, which old letter folk will know, was how I wished you last year too.

Now we are here at home, in the little nation
of our marriage, swearing allegiance to the table
we set for lunch or the windchime on the porch,

its easy dissonance. Even in our shared country,
the afternoon allots its golden lines
so that we’re seated, both in shadow, on opposite

ends of a couch and two gray dogs between us.
There are acres of opinions in this house.
I make two cups of tea, two bowls of soup,

divide an apple equally. If I were a patriot,
I would call the blanket we spread across our bed
the only flag—some nights we’ve burned it

with our anger at each other. Some nights
we’ve welcomed the weight, a woolen scratch
on both our skins. My love, I am pledging

to this republic, for however long we stand,
I’ll watch with you the rain’s arrival in our yard.
We’ll lift our faces, together, toward the glistening.

— (Pledge, Jehanne Dubrow)

I found this image on Austin Kleon’s blog a few days ago, and it set me to thinking about these newsletters of mine.

I would love to think of them, the same way.
They are free, but definitely not cheap :)
Not to toot my own horn, but for all their recent brevity, it still is a process that involves a lot of reading, and thinking and curating and writing. (and a whole lot of slogging)

So yes, in that sense, it’s an expensive labour of love.
I’d like to think of it as something more than free, definitely not cheap but a gift, my gift to you.
Like Seth writes,

A gift costs the giver something real. It might be cash (enough that we feel the pinch) but more likely it involves a sacrifice or a risk or an emotional exposure. A true gift is a heartfelt connection, something that changes both the giver and the recipient.

So true! It works because you accept my gift with grace.
Like our traditional “Namaste” or the Zulu, “Sawubona”, you truly see me.
You acknowledge me and give of your time and your attention and your insight.

And most importantly, you push me to do more.

More Seth,

The key is that the gift must be freely and gladly accepted. Sending someone a gift over the transom isn’t a gift, it’s marketing. Gifts have to be truly given, not given in anticipation of a repayment. True gifts are part of being in a community (willingly paying taxes for a school you will never again send your grown kids to) and part of being an artist (because the giving motivates you to do ever better work).

Plus, giving a gift feels good.

Yes, it does. And I’m grateful you choose to love this craft of mine.

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I have lost my illusions, I have drowned in your words
I have left my confusion to a cynical world
I am throwing myself at things I don’t understand
Discover enlightenment holding your hand

You are …
So beautiful!

Warmth is a fire place in winter.
Warmth is the love of your family and friends.
Warmth is compassion end empathy.
Warmth is a smile and kindness from strangers.
Warmth is a hug when we are feeling bad.
Warmth is kind words when you are doubting yourself.

Monica Lewinsky …

Soul connecting hugs …

Ben Stiller …

Fireplaces, hearths, wood. Everything I didn’t experience growing up […]
Also puppies and Xmas music

Caitlin Geghan …

My dad’s last letter to me—words of encouragement & love, handed to me after he passed for our first Christmas without him. (Amazing how a single paragraph of love can push you through the hardest days. I reread it whenever I need his long-armed hugs.)

Sarah Hajar …

Warmth is “Sabrina’s Scarf”

December 2014. Amman. On a bus. Ready to move on. A little girl appeared. Our guide called to us. “Anyone has extra scarf for this girl. She is from the Syrian refugee camp.” My sister Sabrina took off hers.

Melinda Beatty …

The smell of cinnamon. The color orange. Coffee. Fresh bread. Low ceilings with dark, oak beams. 

Roger Burks …

For me, warmth is togetherness. Shelter in family & friends. A feeling that, no matter what else is happening or what troubles await, that particular moment is safe, sacred & shareable. It’s a sense of care that endures. […]

Tina Knuth …

As a homeless single teen mother in November of 1981, Friends shared an apartment. 5 adults and three children under age 4. We kept everyone fed (barely) and were warm for that winter. Life sucked badly, but the apartment became our stronghold for 6 months.

Kit …

I grew up poor, our parents only let us turn the heat on when family visited on holidays. When I moved out I fell in love with cast iron radiators. They make strange noises and when I use them I get the sense my grandma is about to arrive for dinner.

“What reminds you of warmth?”

What reminds you of warmth?

Calling on your words/thoughts for both inspiration and inclusion in a special Twitter story I'm writing for UNHCR & @TwitterForGood to support Syrian @refugees this winter.

Reply to this tweet with #KnitForRefugees.

— Neil Gaiman (@neilhimself) November 20, 2019

Easy peasy. How hard could it be?
It was only ridiculously difficult, as it turned out.
The tweet went viral and Gaiman found himself facing twenty five thousand words worth of replies.
And from there, he wove a poem of beauty.
I quote it, in its entirety here.
via The Guardian

What You Need to be Warm by Neil Gaiman

A baked potato of a winter’s night to wrap your hands around or burn your mouth.
A blanket knitted by your mother’s cunning fingers. Or your grandmother’s.
A smile, a touch, trust, as you walk in from the snow
or return to it, the tips of your ears pricked pink and frozen.

The tink tink tink of iron radiators waking in an old house.
To surface from dreams in a bed, burrowed beneath blankets and comforters,
the change of state from cold to warm is all that matters, and you think
just one more minute snuggled here before you face the chill. Just one.

Places we slept as children: they warm us in the memory.
We travel to an inside from the outside. To the orange flames of the fireplace
or the wood burning in the stove. Breath-ice on the inside of windows,
to be scratched off with a fingernail, melted with a whole hand.

Frost on the ground that stays in the shadows, waiting for us.
Wear a scarf. Wear a coat. Wear a sweater. Wear socks. Wear thick gloves.
An infant as she sleeps between us. A tumble of dogs,
a kindle of cats and kittens. Come inside. You’re safe now.

A kettle boiling at the stove. Your family or friends are there. They smile.
Cocoa or chocolate, tea or coffee, soup or toddy, what you know you need.
A heat exchange, they give it to you, you take the mug
and start to thaw. While outside, for some of us, the journey began

as we walked away from our grandparents’ houses
away from the places we knew as children: changes of state and state and state,
to stumble across a stony desert, or to brave the deep waters,
while food and friends, home, a bed, even a blanket become just memories.

Sometimes it only takes a stranger, in a dark place,
to hold out a badly knitted scarf, to offer a kind word, to say
we have the right to be here, to make us warm in the coldest season.

You have the right to be here.

So, on this Christmas day, I wish you all warmth!
I wish we be kinder, and more inclusive.
I wish we be more generous.
I pray that we start with the Man in the Mirror.
I pray for more warmth :)
And if you do need reminding, just look at the replies to Neil’s question.

Merry Christmas, all you warm and gorgeous people!
And a Happy New Year!

Ubi enim est thesaurus tuus, ibi est et cor tuum.

For where thy treasure is, there is thy heart also.

You’ve stood by me through thick and thin.
We’ve been through houses and hospitals and travails and travels around the world.
We finish each other’s thoughts and sentences, (much to Poo’s chagrin,)
I don’t know what I’d do without you.

To quote a silly old country song,

When my life is through,
And the Angels ask me to recall
The thrill of it all, then I will tell them
I remember you …

I love you,
I do,
more than I can tell you,
more than I ever did, eight years ago.

“So it is: we are not given a short life but we make it short, and we are not Ill-supplied but wasteful of it.”
[…]
All things that are still to come lie in uncertainty; live straightway!”
― Lucius Annæus Seneca, On the Shortness of Life

Thank you, for sharing my journey with me!

P.S. Get your friends subscribe to the newsletter!

I’ve, seen things, you people wouldn’t believe.
Attack ships on fire, off the shoulder of Orion.
I watched C-beams, glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate.
All those, moments, will be lost, in time, like, tears, in rain.
Time, to die.

Blade Runner was the first movie I saw, that had a morally ambigous ‘hero’.
And the villain is not bad?
And he saves the hero?
This was the first movie that made me look at the world in shades of grey, in shades of acceptance.

And all that, because of the pitch perfect Roy Batty, speech.
Like Robert Caro writes,

There are sentences that are said to you in your life that are chiseled into your memory.

Tears in rain was the earliest of those for me.
Rest in peace, Rutger Hauer.
And thank you, for changing my life.

Love looks pretty on you.
Makes you soft, tender, proud.
Makes you sit up and take notice.
Gives you a home to set down your things.

What a blessing it is, to have music and dancing and poetry.

What a gift it is, to look at someone and say,
I’m so happy to have found you
at last, at last, at long, long last
you’re here.

— Lang Leav

It has also been a blessing to walk by your side, sharing our lives.
It’s hard to think of me, without you anymore.
Like Leav writes, “Every time I see my name, I hear it in your voice.”
Happy Birthday, my heart!
I love you.

Abby lost her grandmother this week.
This is her eulogy to her.

She was Aunty Matty to other people, mummy to her children and countless other fond names to who knew her.

But she was my Nana.

I have memories of her cradling me, and taking care of me as a baby.
Vacations at Nana’s were the highlight of my childhood years.
She was a tireless, hard working woman who raised her large family to the best of her abilities.
And not just her family, but also (to me it seemed) the whole neighbourhood.
She was loved and appreciated, just by about everyone whose life she touched.

As the years flew by, Nana seemed very out of place.
In our fast paced, always connected, no time for any one age, Nana was a slow, deliberate, thoughtful, kind, gentle and gracious woman, like someone from a different, more altruistic age.

And it was here in her shadow years, while i was grew up and was beginning to work and could make my own trips to see her, that i really began to see her for the strong willed, tireless, hard working that she was, beyond just my nana who cossetted me and made me nice things.

And after all these years, the only theme i see that has rung true throughout Nana’s life was, Nana was there.

• when i was a young bawling baby, Nana was there.
• throughout my growing up years, Nana was there.
• to cook me what my heart desired, Nana was there.
• for everyone in her life, Nana was there.
• to crack jokes and lighten up any room, Nana was there.
• to empathise and have a compassionate ear to whatever was ailing you, Nana was there.
• to gently, yet firmly correct you, Nana was there.
• to remember you on your birthdays and anniversaries, Nana was there.
• to worry about you and pick you up when you were down, Nana was there.

Since the day before, when Nana left us, I feel distraught and left alone, that Nana wasn’t there.
And yet, as i read this little note, i realise that this is not quite true.
Like the Little Prince tells the author,

I cannot carry this body with me. It is too heavy.
But it will be like an old abandoned shell.
There is nothing sad about old shells …

Nana was in pain, and she moved on beyond her body to her rest.
But that does not mean, she isn’t there anymore.
I will always carry Nana with me.
We all do.
Nana is here.

You will always be my sweet sixteen, Nana!
I love you.

I’ve been hugged and kissed and kicked,
and taught and influenced and befriended
and loved by so many of you!

I would not be me, if it weren’t for you!

It’s only grown truer with time.
Even more love and gratitude!

Many contributors to this book remark upon Buffetts’s distinctive teaching style, which tends to instruct people how to think rather than what to think.

And

John Bogle has attended one Meeting, but attests that even one can change your world.

A couple of pages later

Our premise was that Berkshire’s intrinsic value owes a lot to the Meeting and the shareholder community.
Buffett wrote in his 2014 letter …

… This culture grows stronger every year, and it will remain intact long after Charlie and I have left the scene.

Berkshire Hathaway has created a culture of intelligence, inquisitivness, integrity and learning. This culture is part of the “company” in both the corporate meaning of that word and in its sense as a society of people coming together (com) to break bread (pan).

Replace Warren with Kushal, Berkshire with the DGPLUG IRC channel and the shareholder meeting with the Summer Training.
And, nothing changes.

Amidst all the shouting and the craziness, that is the channel generally, it all goes up a hundredfold when the training happens.
Tempers flare. The kids are unruly. Mayhem ensues.

Yet, it all settles down soon enough.
Folks learn earnestly.
Wisdom is shared.
Bonds are made. Friendships built.
Across time and space.

And the Atlas who holds this little world on his shoulders is Kushal.
It is he, who literally, wrote the book on what we learn.
It is he, who pays for and maintains much of the infrastructure we need.
It is he, who conducts quite a few of the topics we learn.
It is he, who bribes, and cajoles old mages to come share their wisdom, with callow, inexperienced youth.
And it is he, who keeps this little corner of the world, warm and cozy and friendly, year after year after year.

The number of folks who owe their careers to him are many.
And the folks who have their lives changed by the training, many more still.
I don’t remember if I ever said this to him, but he has given more to humanity in ten years, what others haven’t in their entire lives.
And somewhere in the middle of the chapter, I found what succintly summarises the way I feel about the Summer Training.

And amid their decades of lessons, they get to the core message of all shareholders at the Berkshire Annual Meeting: if you’ve never been, go; if you always go, keep going.

And for everything you do, thank you Kushal!

Thank you, Dan Carlin.
For all you do.

Brittany Durbin britt@dancarlin.com
5:26 AM (4 hours ago)
to me

Mario,

When people ask us how we fund our operations around here, I usually tell them about our “global street performer” business model.
A long time ago I realized that there’s probably not a whole lot of meaningful difference between what I do and what a violin player who finds a nice location on a street corner somewhere, opens up his/her violin case and begins playing does.
We are both relying on “passers-by” throwing a few coins into the instrument case (or baseball cap as the case may be, haha) to keep us going.
Of course, I work a very busy, global “street corner” (virtually speaking, right?).

I want to thank you for taking the time to both listen to the work that we do, and to contribute to our ability to keep doing it. It’s a cliché, but we really WOULDN’T be able to do this without the audience’s help and support.
Not just in terms of finances, but also by telling others about the shows and spreading the word to help us grow the listenership. You all have been awesome.

So thank you from all of us (and from the other listeners who enjoy the work as well, but can’t afford to help right now).
If everyone did as you did, we’d never have to stop doing this.

So, a thousand thanks. I hope we always live up to your expectations.

Warmly as Heck,

-Dan

P.S. If you enjoy what I write, go subscribe! 

In the year of Christ 1571, at the age of thirty-eight, on the last day of February, anniversary of his birth, Michel de Montaigne, long weary of the servitude of the court and of public employments, while still entire, retired to the bosom of the learned Virgins, where in calm and freedom from all cares he will spend what little remains of his life now more than half run out. If the fates permit, he will complete this abode, this sweet ancestral retreat; and he has consecrated it to his freedom, tranquility, and leisure.

While I am not weary of my service, I am no longer still entire.

You have been witness to the turmoil in my life, the past couple of years and my own physical breakdown the past couple of months.

While you have been ever gracious towards me, I feel I no longer can serve you to the best of my abilities.

And so the time has come for me to say, Au revoir.

I’ve had the good fortune of serving BPW in various capacities ever since its inception. I’ve had the good fortune of working alongside so much bright talent. I’ve had the good fortune to learn from some of the best mentors ever. I’ve had the good fortune to pass on my knowledge too.

What I imagined to be a short term assignment turned out to be a seven year long adventure, full of crazy making, delight and plenty of ups and downs, joys and sorrows. And now that I’m broken, I have to turn my ship homewards and recover. To, Montaigne-like, retire to the bosom of the Muses and spend time in calm and freedom, if only for a short while.

Abbas & Sada, you’ve trusted my judgment You gave me free reign and let me do my own thing. Pretty much what anyone dreams of when they think of work. Thank you for being such amazing folks to work for.

Vinay, you were big brother, tightwad, crazy ass director and generous patron all rolled into one. You gave me so many opportunities to learn and grow. The best thing I could say to you instead of Thank you is that I learned so much! I never had to worry, because I know you always have my back. It’s been a joy working alongside you. I am ever grateful.

Vijay, you’ve been confidant, keeper of secrets, healer of wounds, and a daily source of inspiration. You taught me how to sell. And then you taught me how to lead. And then you taught be how to be a good human. I have no words.

I’ll also take a minute to specially thank baby Bonika, Kuldip, Vaibhav, Dheena, Shini, Tanay and Santosh. I will never forget Bangalore! You trusted me, gave yourselves wholly to me, and did some of the best work of your lives, when you let me serve you as manager. I see you grow now, I see you spread your wings and I feel so proud.

There are far too many folks to mention here and I’m tearing up. I thank you all! I love you all!

To close, I’ll paraphrase Enya and pray we do meet on some other shore …

A thousand dreams you gave to me You held me high, you held me high And all those years you guided me So I could find my way

So let me give this dream to you Upon another shore So let me give this dream to you Each night and ever more