This is actually a pretty good book!

I recently read a book called slide:ology that talks about improving slide-based presentations, and the book has given me a lot of food for thought. But one of the minor points that’s really stuck with me comes from a section where the author explains that it’s easy to create your own illustrations for slides, but that people rarely do it because they believe they can’t. The author mentions is that if you ask a group of children, “Who in this room can draw?”, you’ll see almost every hand in the room go up. But if you ask a group of college graduates, “Who in this room can draw?”, you’ll see very few hands go up.

When I’ve gone into classrooms and worked with aspiring young authors, I’ve noticed this as well. Kids believe they can do almost anything, and regardless of the results, they’re willing to try. Adults, on the other hand, only believe they can do the things they know how to do, and they’re often reluctant to try new things without someone there to guide them. What causes this disconnect? Is it simply that children don’t have the wisdom to know that they can’t do something well… or that adults are too concerned with quality to try something that they know they’ll do poorly?

I’m probably the wrong person to answer this question, because I love learning new things, and I’m rarely afraid of failure. But in that spirit, I’m going to make an attempt to do so. Bear with me.

I’m going to suggest that the problem boils down to a story that we often tell our children — “The Little Engine That Could.” I’m not a big fan of the story myself, but I’ve heard it enough times to know the theme. A little train engine is charged with pulling a load of cars up a hill that the bigger engines won’t attempt. Despite the fact that he shouldn’t be able to do it, he pushes himself along with the manta, “I think I can, I think I can…” and as he gets close to the top and seems about to fail, he pushes himself further by saying, “I know I can, I know I can!”. The engine successfully crosses the hill, delivers the cargo, and proves that we can achieve anything if we put mind over matter; hope over fear; positive thinking over negative thinking.

Obviously, the story doesn’t reflect reality very well, and I’m not going to take the time to explain why it’s a nice story, but that it teaches kids to have an unrealistic perspective in a world that seems inclined to crush those who try to achieve things beyond their ability. Rather, I’m going to argue that stories like this reflect the ideas that children have about confidence, but that somewhere along the line, many people lose their ability to say, “I think I can” and refuse to try much of anything unless they can say, “I know I can.”

Kids are not afraid to create.

So, let’s consider things from a child’s perspective. Children are small, in a world of large people, but they don’t see themselves as being tiny or inferior. Rather, they see themselves as being the center of the universe, and it takes them many years (or some horrifying trauma) to develop a sense that they live in a world where they and their parents are not in control. Children also have a natural sense of curiosity, borne out of their development; as they grow, they are able to process information more capably and understand ideas more deeply. Thus they start by asking “why?” and eventually move on to asking “how?” before they start suggesting, “maybe not” and offering their own ideas. Children are also intensely creative and imaginative, and can take simple objects and construct elaborate fantasies around them. Every time I watch a child play with a toy, I’m impressed by how dreamlike their experience is. Sometimes, they stay focused on the toy in one context for awhile, but more often, they switch contexts (and sometimes, even uses!) as their play shifts to suit their needs.

At the same time, children are very demanding of their toys, and they tend to prefer those which are simple and easy to shape to their own designs than those which are complex and only designed to be used one way. This is one of the reasons that many young children do not like video games that have a lot of buttons or complicated objectives; they prefer things that are simple, that allow them to manipulate and explore, and that don’t require them to perform a pre-determined set of actions. This is something that changes gradually as they approach the age of 10 or 11, and that changes sharply once they begin to become teenagers and are faced with trying to find ways to fit in within the adult world.

So, the question we have to consider is, “Are the attitudes towards creativity and trying new things that children have something that we grow out of, or are they something that we shed because we see that other adults don’t behave that way?”

I know that there are many who would probably argue the former, and based on my readings of Piaget and other child behavioral scientists, there is some evidence for that. But I have also observed a number of adults (myself included!) who have not only been able to retain their curiosity and willingness to try new things, but who are capable of producing creative efforts that demonstrate a lack of ability without feeling any guilt or shame over it. Some refer to this as “self-deception,” and I think it’s a good term to use here — we ignore our objective opinions and focus purely on our subjective perspectives to tell us that what we’ve created is, in fact, good. It’s only when we get away from the creation for a bit, and remove our subjective filters, that we can begin to see the flaws.

(This puts the whole concept of God creating the Earth in the book of Genesis in a new context, doesn’t it? Perhaps what God called “good” wasn’t necessarily so great when he took a day off and got himself out of the moment…)

We can all get back to being creative like kids... we just have to stop worrying about what others think.

So, what I’d suggest is that the ability to say “I think I can” is not actually lost in development, but rather, put aside in favor of a teenage concept, “what will others think if I try this?”. Most teenagers are very concerned about what their peers think, and they’re hesitant to try things that they don’t think they can do and that they don’t think their peers will approve of. It is the socially awkward teens who generally remain creative and inquisitive; the teens who are good at socializing focus instead on trusting the group instead of relying solely on their own ideas. This, of course, spills over into adulthood as well, and many adults are more worried about what others will think than they are about creating things on their own. And if they rekindle their creative energy or imagination in some way, they often describe themselves as “feeling like a kid again,” because in their minds, only a child knows what it’s like to defy convention and create.

So, here’s my challenge to any of you who don’t think that you’re creative. Stop asking yourself what you know how to do and start focusing on the things that you think you can do, but are afraid to. You don’t have to take a class or find a tutor to learn new things; there are tons of resources out there for you to learn new things. But be warned — you can’t focus on your failures. You have to focus instead on improving upon your successes. When kids fail at something they actually want to do, they usually say, “oh well,” and pick themselves up and start over. They’ll try over and over and over until they are happy with the result. That’s the proper way to approach creative efforts… and doing so will give you a real passion for the work you’re doing.

Even if it sucks. (See: How to deal with being told that you suck.)

It's not always easy to decide what's beautiful...

So I’m a little critical on this blog — I’ll admit it. Every week, I recommend films, video games and television shows that I think are good and I tear apart others that I think are pretty lousy. Clearly, my tastes are particularly, and my preferences are for things that I consider good. Most people develop their own sets of preferences for things that they find good which may or may not conflict with my own. That’s part of being human.

But have you ever stopped and wondered how we arrive at conclusions about what is good and what is bad, what is perfect and what is flawed?

The field of criticism is based on a philosophical principle called “aesthetics,” and it’s the basis that we use to determine what we like and what we don’t like. Most people have an intuitive grasp of aesthetics, but never bother to develop their understanding to a point that they can broaden their own horizons very easily. And there’s another problem, too – the problem of whether or not there is some universal sense of “good” aesthetics (i.e. whether truth and beauty are directly related) or whether or not aesthetic values are determined by culture and experience.

Let’s take a closer look at the issue and see if we can arrive at any conclusions.

Have you ever been shown a piece of artwork that everyone else seemed to love, but which you absolutely despise? Or, conversely, have you ever found yourself enjoying a piece of artwork that everyone else tells you is terrible?

Is this simply a problem of your own lack of understanding of what is beautiful and what lacks beauty, or is it a problem of mere snobbishness on the part of the people around you?

It’s very easy to run into either of these scenarios in the world of art, because so many people have such varying ideas about what makes art good. Most people approach art from a fairly simple point of view — they look at the picture, evaluate it, make a judgment, and move on. Because they don’t really understand what they’re looking at, they’re not able to judge the deeper values of the work — aesthetically speaking, the composition of the picture is either compelling to them, or it is not.

A person who has taken a course on art appreciation might approach a work differently. He or she will understand that it is not just the composition of art that makes it worthwhile, but also the artist’s unique vision of the world. He or she will also be able to place the art within something of a context by examining its style and comparing it to the work of the masters of the artist’s era. Aesthetically speaking, someone who has some understanding of the field of art will judge the piece relative to his or her understanding of the world around it.

A person with experience in creating art will approach the work differently as well. He or she will look at the technical aspects of the piece, judging where the artist followed the rules, and where the artist broke them. This person will also pay more attention to the technique used to create the piece, and will talk about the methods that the artist used to deceive the eye and establish the illusions of depth and space. There might be some discussion about how the artist sees the world. Aesthetically speaking, a person who has created art will judge the piece on his or her understanding of the techniques used to create it.

The question, then, is whether these three people will arrive at the same conclusion ultimately, using their understanding of aesthetics to select the truly remarkable pieces while avoiding the truly flawed ones.

When this question is posed towards examining the work of classical or renaissance artists, it is likely that all three groups will fall in line and say that works by artists like Michelangelo are truly beautiful. But do they say this because there is something automatically beautiful about Michelangelo’s work, or do they say this because they all have been told that this work is beautiful, accepted the view, and used it to frame their opinions? Some might argue that Michelangelo’s work is intrinsically beautiful, but most would agree that the idea of beauty derives from cultural cues more than anything else. There are certainly times when these views do not convene.

Andrew Wyeth's most famous painting, "Christina's World"

The great American artist Andrew Wyeth died over the last week, and I was quite sad to see that even in his passing, people in the art world were debating whether or not Wyeth was truly an artist, or merely an illustrator. If you look at Wyeth’s art, there is little doubt that he was one of the greatest painters of the 20th century. His work was tremendous, and most of his paintings took bold risks. Some looked amazingly like photographs, while others looked as if they were focused purely on the study of light. Wyeth had a way of  creating paintings that told stories about rural America in a way that no artist ever has. The reason that art critics shunned Andrew Wyeth is because his work was realistic instead of being abstract and expressionist. At the same time, they criticized him for seeing a world that no longer exists, and while they acknowledged his skill as a draftsman and painter, they said that his work was shallow and lacking philosophy. In other words, they labeled his work base for a perceived lack beauty simply because it was popular.

One of Wyeth's "Helga" paintings

(Here’s a great article on Andrew Wyeth if you’re not familiar with him, but interested in learning more about him.)

And this is the problem with aesthetics. If one bases his or her own views off gut reactions, he or she will often reject that which is not immediately familiar or understood. That’s bad, because we need to broaden our horizons from time to time to experience new things. But at the same time, if one bases his or her own views off the opinions of the “experts,” he or she can be steered into a pecular sort of snobbery that will prevent him or her from truly enjoying works that everyone else likes.

So, how do we find a middle ground? We develop our sense of aesthetics by truly studying the things that are thought to be great and broadening our understanding of the reasons behind the thinking. At the same time, we accept our gut reactions and express our opinions in such a way that we open up the floor for explanations as to why we’re wrong. We accept that we won’t like everything that others like, but at the same time, we attempt to understand why people like things that we find distasteful.

I’ll give a real world example. I despise country music, and I won’t listen to it if I’m given the choice. My wife, on the other hand, loves it, and it’s all she’d listen to if she were given the chance. I often accuse her of having poor taste, and tease her for not being able to identify classical music compositions. At the same time, I insist that generes like bluegrass and classic rock are superior to country music, based on my own sense of aesthetics.

Am I right? My reasons for disliking country music are founded on many good aesthetic principles. My chief objection with country music is that it’s generally sentimental and sappy, but my secondary objection is that the stuff my wife listens to on the radio is essentially pop music with a twang. Unfortunately for me, I’m misjudging the genre based on a part of the whole. As it turns out, there is actually quite a lot of good country music out there, sung by people like Johnny Cash, Hank Williams, Sr., Lorette Lynn and others. It doesn’t offend my sensibilities in the slightest. And yet because I despise the stuff I hear on the radio, I make the judgment that all country music is bad.

And that’s my point about aesthetics. Ultimately, we have to learn to broaden ourselves and ask why we’ve developed negative attitudes towards certain things. There’s no denying that a lot of artistic endeavors are just crummy. I’ve worked on quite a few of those myself. But there are also many artistic efforts that are merely misunderstood. That’s one of the reasons why we must develop a sense of aesthetics that transcends snobbery and that allows us to consider new things — otherwise, we miss out on the new and different and find ourselves firmly rooted in only the things that we know we like. And what kind of fun is that?

Sometimes, it's good to think about the deeper questions in life. But if that sounds boring to some, a picture of a pretty girl never hurts, either.

Throughout the varied religious ideologies of the world, there are three common themes:

1. Humanity is imperfect and needs to improve itself in some way.
2. Treating others with love and respect is the morally proper thing to do.
3. Wisdom reigns supreme over all other knowledge.

But what is wisdom? Is wisdom relative to culture, or is it something universal? And how can one truly become wise?

Let’s address each of those questions point by point.

What is wisdom?

Examine the varied dictionary definitions of the word “wisdom,” and you’ll find little illumination. For example, Dictionary.com’s definition is:

1. the quality or state of being wise; knowledge of what is true or right coupled with just judgment as to action; sagacity, discernment, or insight.
2. scholarly knowledge or learning: the wisdom of the schools.
3. wise sayings or teachings; precepts.
4.a wise act or saying.

Since most of these definitions require a working knowledge of the word “wise,” further probing finds that the state of being wise means:

1.having the power of discerning and judging properly as to what is true or right; possessing discernment, judgment, or discretion.

So, simply stated, wisdom is the ability to make good decisions.

Wisdom can pertain to moral situations (what is “right” versus what is “wrong”), utility situations (what is “most beneficial” versus what is “least beneficial”), conflict situations (what is “best for all” versus “what is best for one”), and even day-to-day living (what is “efficient” versus what is “wasteful”).

A person is generally considered wise if he or she makes decisions carefully and decisively. A person is generally considered unwise if he or she makes decisions impulsively or inconclusively. A wise decision-maker is generally considered to have knowledge and insight, while an unwise decision-maker is generally considered to be foolish and short-sighted.

Age and experience are also generally associated with wisdom, but I would tend to argue that age and experience have nothing to do with being wise unless they are associated with learning from one’s mistakes. Some also associate nature with wisdom, speaking of things such as “the wisdom of trees.” This is lovely poetic language, but I would suggest that nature is objectively a rather harsh place where the prevailing wisdom is, “fight hard if you want to survive.” Trees dominate other plants by hogging up the resources in the soil and then growing tall enough that they can prevent smaller plants from receiving sunlight. The only thing wise about trees is their tendency to be bigger and greedier than their competitors.

Is wisdom relative to culture, or is it universal?

Socrates is considered one of the pillars of Western thinking.

Presently, we have two great traditions of thought in the world. The first is what we call “Western thought,” which is heavily influenced by Greek philosophy and the Judeo-Christian tradition. The central theme of Western thinking is that reason is the highest form of argument and that logic is the best means by which to construct an argument. Western thinkers often tend to be empirical, which means that they look for evidence to explain conclusions. One could describe Western thought by calling it “Yes/No” thinking.

“Eastern thought” comes primarily from Asia, and it is heavily influenced by  Confucianism, Taoism, Hinduism, Buddhism, ancient Babylon and Persia and even, to some extent, Islam. Eastern thought can be subdivided into many categories that are distinctly different from one another, such as Persian thought, Indian thought and Chinese thought. But most of the Eastern tradition is characterized by a lack of need for empiricism, and some Eastern thinkers often hold that two conflicting viewpoints can be simultaneously true since both are opposite sides of the same concept. One could describe Eastern thought by calling it “Yes/And” thinking.

Wisdom was a very big part of ancient culture, and writings dedicated to wisdom exist in the Egyptian tradition, the Sumerian tradition, the Hebrew tradition, the Chinese tradition, the Indian tradition and the Babylonian tradition, as well as the traditions of many other ancient cultures. As wisdom pertains to the world today, Karl Jaspers wrote in his 1996 book The Great Philosophers vol. 1 that the four paradigms of thought today stem from four individuals:

• Confucius
• Socrates
• Jesus
• Buddha

Confucius is sometimes referred to as the "Chinese Socrates."

When you strip away the culture and religion of the four men, it is clear that there are strong parallels between the teachings of Socrates and Confucius and between those of Jesus and Buddha. I’m not going to attempt to list them here, but there’s an interesting (and free!) eBook on the former you might want to check out. You can also get Jaspers’s book through Amazon.com.

What this leads me to suggest is that wisdom is not a concept that belongs solely to one tradition or the other, but rather, is a concept that is common in all cultures. The only difference is in how wisdom is prescribed and portrayed.

For example, in the Western tradition, we have the wise King Solomon, said to be the wisest man whom ever lived. At one point, the Old Testament says that Solomon was presented with a case where two women had given birth at the same time and one of their babies had died shortly after. The women were arguing over who was the actual mother to the living child. Both made such a strong case that King Solomon, in his wisdom, ordered that the baby be cut in half and that each woman receive half of the child. One of the alleged mothers thought this was fair, but the other cried out that this was not acceptable; she would rather the child lived with one of them than died to appease them. Solomon reasoned that the woman who cried out was the true mother, and awarded her the child.

This is very in line with the Western perspective of wisdom — that through deduction, we can find truth.Now, compare this to an Eastern story, from ancient China. (My apologies, but I have been unable to locate the source of this story.)

In an ancient city, a prince had a custom each year of releasing doves on New Year’s Day, and this inspired the villagers to catch doves for him, since he gave them rewards for each dove they turned in. Someone asked him why he released the doves, and he responded that it was to show his kindness. “But wait,” the friend pointed out. “In showing your kindness, you cause your subjects to rush out and collect these birds at great risk to themselves, and often wounding or killing birds in the process. The small kindness that you show comes at the expense of great harm to all involved.” The prince agreed with him.

This is very in line with the Eastern perspective of wisdom — that often, the actions that we take have repercussions on the world around us, and that it is not the solution that is important, but the understanding of our place in the world. The prince is both kind and cruel at the same time, and only by minimizing one extreme can he eliminate the other.

Neither of these perspectives are incompatible, however. Both are centered around the same theme: cruelty can masquerade as kindness, and the truly wise ruler is the one who understands the implications of the decision, as well as the subtext.

How can one truly become wise?

In Plato’s Apology, Socrates argues that it is impossible for him to consider himself wise, since he knows how little he truly knows, and that he is only considered wise because other people say that he is wise. And that’s exactly how wisdom works — it is a never-ending pursuit of understanding and knowledge that requires a person to constantly improve his or her understanding of the world. The more you learn, the less you think you really know. But when others look at you, they will think that you are wise simply because you possess more wisdom than they do.

Wisdom can be acquired through three different means:

1. Experience
2. Knowledge
3. Reason

Much of the Eastern world considers Buddha a teacher of both wisdom and morality.

Experience is the simplest way to obtain wisdom, since it is relatively passive.  A 16-year-old driver might lack the wisdom to realize that driving well above the speed limit is dangerous, but a 26-year-old driver will know that doing so is not only a risk to the driver, but to passengers and other motorists as well. Experiential wisdom is only acquired, however, if an individual is actively open to change. If an individual becomes fixed in his or her ways and refuses to improve, he or she will not be able to get any wiser.

Knowledge is also a fairly common method of acquiring wisdom, and it can come either from passively listening to others or actively seeking their opinions. When I went to buy my wife’s wedding ring, a friend mentioned to me that his mother solid diamond rings at a great discount and that I should check with her before I bought anything. This passive knowledge resulted in my actively learning that jewelry is often marked up well above its worth, and that the best way to buy jewelry is from individuals or from special outlets, not from mall-store jewelers. I can now make wiser decisions about how I buy jewelry as a result of the process.

Often, it is the knowledge we posses that we draw upon for decision-making, but there are times when we must search for information to make a decision. Generally speaking, the more knowledge we have about a topic, the better a decision we can make. This assumes, of course, that our sources of knowledge are reliable and that we accept information that is true and reject that which is false.

Jesus often spoke in riddles and parables that forced his listeners to think carefully about what he was saying.

Reason is the highest form of wisdom, since it draws on our collective knowledge and experience to help us to make the best decision. This is often the wisdom that is contained in proverbs and in teaching stories. Take, for example, this proverb from the Bible:

Better a dry crust with peace and quiet
than a house full of feasting, with strife.

In this dilemma, we must appeal to our knowledge and experience to judge whether or not this proverb is true. We can recall bad experiences we’ve had with family or in-laws over holidays and realize that this is probably true. What’s more, we can reason a further application that if we can reduce the strife in a household, our feasting will be all the more glorious.

Consider this quote from The Confucian Analects Book 14:

He who speaks without modesty will find it difficult to make his words good.

Again, this is an argument that requires reason to assess. Does arrogance imply that words generally lack the quality of being good? Certainly, it can make words into selfish boasts. The application, too, is to consider whether words are more easily made good with humility.

Wisdom is not something that is easy to attain, and it requires a lifetime of study. But it is a worthwhile pursuit, both because it assists with the quality of your own decision-making and because it helps you to  assist others in their own. Though I do not consider myself wise, I strive to work towards making myself moreso.

I hope that you, too, find a passion for wisdom in your life.