Work(s) in Progress

Icarus Rising

Why did Icarus need to fall? I remember translating (from the Latin) the myth of Icarus in Ovid’s Metamorphoses as a young girl.  

It seemed natural and obvious that Icarus should fall. What hubris! How dare he try to fly so high?

And yet, I also grew up hearing the tales of Horatio Alger  (myths even) that suggested that with hard work, strong ethics and perseverance a person could overcome their humble beginnings and become more, succeed based on their own merits. It’s pretty much the American Dream that "life should be better and richer and fuller for everyone, with opportunity for each according to ability or achievement regardless of social class or circumstances of birth."

And at least here in the US, we seem almost compelled to root for the underdog wanting him/her/them to overcome their preconceived disadvantage. See e.g. this article. 

However, we want those less fortunate to succeed, but not too much. Some call this Tall Poppy Syndrome which is mostly "used in the UK, Canada, Australia, New Zealand and other Anglosphere nations to describe a social phenomenon in which people of genuine merit are resented, attacked, cut down, or criticized because their talents or achievements elevate them above or distinguish them from their peers.”

We’re rooting for you, until we hate you, and start wanting you to fail or fall.

I took a visionary leadership class in business school taught by a wonderful professor, Edward O’Connor.  We built our own personal 5-year plans based on our values, purpose, vision. I blogged my project and experience in his class.

While this was years ago, I still remember that one of his values was excellence, and he really did not care about the time/effort needed to produce excellent work, only the beauty of it. At the time I struggled with HIS value. I remember being one of those students in grade school, high school, who could produce relatively (compared to my peers) outstanding work with minimal effort. Indeed, I skipped second grade & senior year of high school. And yet, I always felt terrible out-performing some of my classmates who I knew worked so much harder than I had, who in my mind, deserved a better grade given the effort they had put in.

Even then I wanted to soar, but not too much, not too easily.

Screw that.

I started a company last week, Icarus Rising LLC. I chose the name, for all of these reasons, more than two years ago, but was contractually barred in Florida from starting a business while working for my last employer. The company has now been registered with the Colorado Secretary of State, and has secured its unique Federal Tax ID number.

When I left Tallahassee, my assistant gave me an inspiring handwritten note on a card which stated  "leap and the net will appear." I keep it on my dresser so I see it every day.

FLY. WIN. SOAR. EXCEL.

I still have many details of this new company to sort out, but the purpose is clear!

Funky Winkerbean

I read the comic Funky Winkerbean each morning on the Seattle Post Intelligencer. The creator, Tom Batiuk, has been unafraid to write and draw about difficult issues: teen pregnancy, adoption, alcoholism, divorce and most recently death of a beloved wife and mother (Lisa) from cancer.

Lisa's Legacy Fund for Cancer Research and Education has been established to support the University Hospitals Ireland Cancer Center in Cleveland, Ohio.

From the Funky Winkerbean website:

The University Hospitals Ireland Cancer Center is one of only 40 comprehensive cancer centers in the United States, as designated by the National Institutes of Health. Currently in its 19th year of operation, it is a leading center for patient care, cancer research, and community education about cancer care. One hundred percent of the donations to Lisa’s Legacy Fund will go to cancer research and education at Ireland Cancer Center. Ongoing research includes work on the development of a vaccine for breast cancer, a blood test for colon cancer, breakthrough chemotherapy treatments for all types of cancer featuring new drugs developed by the Center’s clinician-scientists, and new approaches to radiation treatments. Ireland Cancer Center is one of only eight cancer centers in the country to have access to a pipeline of new drugs through the National Cancer Institute for early phase clinical trials.

Batiuk, a cancer survivor himself, said, “Anyone whose family has been affected by cancer knows what a gut-wrenching experience it can be. While great strides have been made in the fight against cancer, there is still much work to do. I’ve received hundreds of letters and emails from people who recognized themselves or loved ones in Lisa’s story. She came to represent the many individual battles against cancer that people fight everyday. Beyond the emotional impact that Lisa’s story has had on people, Lisa’s Legacy Fund will now have a real impact on the continuing fight against cancer.”

You can support Lisa's Fund by donating directly to the Cancer Center or by purchasing Tom Batiuk's new book on Lisa called Lisa's Story: The Other Shoe.

Slaying Dragons

I recently sent a collection of children's fiction to a friend with young children. As I was looking through my library for age appropriate books, I flipped through Coraline by Neil Gaiman. I love the quote he put in the front:

Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us dragons exist, but because they  tell us dragons can be beaten.  -G. K. Chesterson

Whenever I feel like the challenges in my life are becoming overwhelming, I often turn to fiction where the challenges faced by the hero or heroine are far larger than those in my life. The one I have turned to most to is Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card. Ender's ability to persevere when most would have given up, always helped me to put my own troubles into perspective. 

The Power of Fiction

I love fiction. It used to concern me that I would much rather curl up with a grand glorious epic novel than read something weighty (non-fiction) until I read this commentary by Orson Scott Card in his book Maps in a Mirror.

He wrote, “It might seem that fiction becomes more mythic as it is divorced from identifiable real-world patterns, but it is not really the disconnection from reality that makes fiction mythic—if that were so, our myths would all be of madmen. Rather a story becomes more mythic as it connects to things that transcend reality. Tolkien’s Middle Earth is so thoroughly created in The Lord of the Rings that the wealth of detail makes readers feel as though they had visited a real place; but it is a place where human behavior takes on enormous importance, so that moral issues (the goodness or evil of a person’s choices and actions) and causal issues (why things happen; the way the world works) take on far greater clarity. We find in Aragorn, not just that his noble, but Nobility. We find in Frodo, not just that he is willing to bear a difficult burden, but Acceptance. And Samwise is not just a faithful servant, but also the personification of Service.

Thus it is in fantasy that we can most easily explore, not human behaviors, but Humanity. And in exploring it, we also define it; and in defining, invent it. Those of us who received a story and believed in its truth (even if we don’t believe in its factuality) carry those memories inside us and, if we care enough about the tale, act out the script it provides us.”

I love the Tolkien stories, although I prefer the movies made by Peter Jackson to the books. One movie scene, that provided part of the inspiration for this blog, occurs between Frodo and Sam toward the end of The Two Towers.

The burden of the ring has become heavy. Frodo has reached his breaking point.

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Frodo: “I can’t do this Sam.”

Sam: “I know. It’s all wrong. By rights we shouldn’t even be here. But we are. It’s like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo, the ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines, it will shine out all the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you, that meant something even if you were too small to understand why. But I think Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn’t. They kept going because they were holding onto something.”

Frodo: “What are we holding onto Sam?”

Sam: “That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. And it’s worth fighting for.”

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I could not agree with Sam more.

Note: any typos are mine and not the quoted authors or movies.