Living to the point of tears...

Albert Camus

“Men must live and create. Live to the point of tears.”

I tossed back a few almonds with a swig of leftover pre-dawn coffee. Although only 8 a.m., I was back from an early run along the sea. I have a thing for seeing the sun rise along the ocean. This running bit is a habit not willing to be silenced by an almost 1 year anniversary since my open-heart surgery or a broken ankle last fall.

Like everything else physical lately, it isn’t the limits of endurance but something weird in my head. Quite capable of swimming a mile or running 10, the voice in my head simply sighs and reminds me of the stack of work back in my traveling home office.

At times I feel disembodied. A witness to my own predicaments. Several writing projects seem bootless although they are anticipated and encouraged. Luckily, the major project, replete with a major tech publisher, editor, and submission of all but a preface and final chapter is exciting enough that it demands the spotlight and most of my attention.

I am isolated in an empty home with a beautiful view of the sea. I listen to M Train by Patti Smith realizing that I have one final 2-hour run in her company. Hopefully listening to the work acumen of someone that enchants me will be the motivation I need. Many of the books I listen to on Audible are purchased in hardcopy as well. When Patti tosses book titles, poetry collections and far-off destinations into her conversations I want to gather them all and as she says, get to know her better.

I think of a giant bookcase in images from Theaster Gates’s instagram page. Theaster was featured in an Apple TV show called Home. I have been a fan and close observer of his immense talent ever since. I wept when he sent me a note. I wept when Patti sent me a note. To feel seen is everything. Ideas for me come from the cinematic—not simply the linear. I am eternally grateful that music and the artistic talents of others trigger something emotional in me. Their grace is imbued in whatever I am creating. There is no absolute creation of anything without nodding towards the edges we gather when looking for inspiration.

Edward Tufte recently gifted me a copy of Seeing with Fresh Eyes: Meaning, Space, Data, Truth. I continue to read and reread sections as I attempt to pull myself out of the narrative enough to absorb what I am reading. Patti Smith describes a similar experience while reading Camus. You can become so enthralled and lost in the voice of an author that when you emerge you have no idea what just happened.

I discovered the antidote. A small book by Ian Lyman, The Impossibility of Silence: Writing for Designers, Artists & Photographers. In Lyman’s voice I recognize what I want to convey to my students, colleagues, followers, and audiences. Already I have begun sketching out a book for data and tech professionals as a guide for writing. Not all tech professionals write—some by design others perhaps because they don’t know where to begin. The photo from Town and Country resonated with me.

I have a theme for the next round of talks I will be giving. Far below the actual topics of geospatial intelligence runs a persistent thread. Asking questions. How many webinars do we need about storytelling? It isn’t necessarily about the story we think we are telling. But it is about the underlying question.

We simply need the patience to seek it out…why is something located where we found it? What barriers might impede access? Explore the new way of thinking about a seemingly intractable problem. For me, I look to creative minds. You don’t catch any one’s eye doing things the same old way— find the new frontier.