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Living Small

Ever since I left home for university, Memphis has been something of a safe haven for me. It’s a place of family and lifelong friends. It is a place where change is small and infrequent. It’s a place I can return after a year away and observe that the same yard still hasn’t been mowed; that the same feud is still playing out; that the same politics are still roiling.  When so much else in my life looked uncertain after my diagnosis, Memphis felt like the natural place for me to find my footing.

Nevertheless, when friends near and far got word of my destination, they first exclaimed, “Oh my, I can’t imagine you staying there for long!” and then concluded with a generous offer of a spare bedroom in New York, a chance to join travel plans in the Greek Isles, or a note about affordable housing costs in Buenos Aires.

Their exhortations were not so much a commentary on Memphis itself but about the contrast between a Memphis life and the life I’ve led in recent years.  My last five years have been life lived at a sprint.  I’ve called three continents and some of the world’s greatest cities my home.  I’ve bounced from a demanding consulting firm to a dynamic start-up in a tumultuous industry.  I’ve seen the world.  I’ve sought to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life (see my post “The Power of Scarce Time” on Jan 24, 2010), and to do so I’ve been living “big.”  Big ideas.  Big cities.  Big trips.  Big impact. Just big.

Yet in my rush to do so much so quickly, I forgot the full context of Thoreau’s quest:

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion…”

The effort to suck out all the marrow of life began not with a grand city, a grand trip, or a grand ceremony.  It began with a man alone in the woods seeking to eliminate all but the most necessary in order to divine life’s essence.

My own recent transition is not nearly so poetic nor so complete, but it has had similar effect.  For the first time in years, I have taken time to teach a dog a new trick.  To enjoy sunset on a country road where the sky seemed so wide that it might reach around and connect again beneath me.  To sip coffee for hours with an old friend.  To see a community play in Monroeville, Alabama and to listen to ragged blues in Clarksdale, Mississippi.  I’ve cooked special meals and sought advice from old mentors.  I’ve played board games and read a good book.  I have remembered what it means to live small, and that re-discovery has proven a daily well-spring of joy whose depths I’ve yet to reach.

Don’t be mistaken. I wouldn’t give back even one moment of the “big” life I’ve been able to lead in favor of an ostensibly “smaller” one.  Rather, I have realized that living “big” does not preclude living “small” and that many of life’s greatest joys can come in the seemingly small things.  Indeed, it is only when we treasure up all of life’s moments that we can truly begin to recognize and appreciate its big ones.

Doubts

As much as any tumor, I believe cancer is a disease about doubts.  Doubts about longevity.  Doubts about meaning.  Doubts about a life well spent.   If those doubts eat away at you, the result is as harmful as any disease.

When my father was diagnosed, he spent the first several days in and out of consciousness.  The man that emerged thereafter became the rock that held my family together during those dark hours and became an inspiration to a whole community of supporters.  His equilibrium, his faith in face of calamity, was unshakeable.  My mother, my brother, and I all found ourselves drawing strength from the very man who we sought to help.  At the time, I knew this uncanny freedom from doubts was exceptional, but I could not divine its source.

A few weeks ago, as I sat captive in a hotel room with a giant lead plate on my eye, I asked him what had given him strength when he had his greatest doubts.  He responded with a story:

“It was a few months after my surgery.  Your mom was at work, and I was home alone.  I went to get myself a glass of orange juice, and, as I turned from the refrigerator to the counter, I collapsed.  As I lay shaken on the kitchen floor, I said to myself, ‘This is it.’  Still, I felt at peace.  I knew that if my moment had come, then there was nothing I could do to change it.  More importantly, I knew that I had lived the life I wanted to live up to that day, and nothing could take that away from me.”

That night, I rested easier, knowing that my father had tread my path before.  It was only recently that I began to comprehend his words.

Several years ago, while walking on the bank of the Ganges in the Himalayan foothills, my great friend, Naman Shah, contended that the purpose of life is “to do your duty every day with joy and without attachment.”  Though separated by thousands of miles, several years, and a few religions, I recognize Naman’s wisdom in my father’s words.

First, my father took joy in knowing he had lived a life he could be proud of.  A million choices could have been made differently.  A million outcomes might have been different.  Still, Dad looked back over his life and felt content with the story he had written.  In short, he had done his duty.

Second, he let go of fears and expectations for things he could not change.  He released attachment to what he thought should happen to him and focused simply on what he could do.  This is not to say he did not fight, not to say did not do everything within his power to survive and to thrive.  Quite the opposite, he knew he had done everything in his power, had done his duty, and he could not, would not, ask more of himself than that.

Doubt can fester only when we lose faith in what we have done before or what we might have done today.  By doing our duty every day with joy and without attachment, we leave no room for doubt.

Odds

Today, I got some bad health news, so I decided to go on a ten mile run to collect my thoughts.  About five miles in, I got myself thinking about odds.  Odds are a funny thing.  In many ways, the statistics of life are remarkably predictable.  We can guess with remarkable certainty how long the average person will live, how much the average person will earn in a year, how many children the average person will have.  And yet, at the same time, none of us is average.

We live lives that are profoundly, irretrievably unique.  The odds of claiming my two incredible parents and my brilliant brother sits at something greater than one in a billion.  The odds of being able to visit nearly 60 countries in my 28 years is one in millions.  The odds of being part of building one of the world’s more successful clean energy company sits at one in millions as well.  The odds of getting to attend two great institutions like UNC and Duke at the same time: 1 in hundreds of thousands.  The odds of getting uveal melanoma sit at 1 in 250,000.  The odds of being a Memphian around 1 in 20,000.  Of being American: 1 in 20.

Then, I started thinking about entrepreneurs.  Ever since the first internet bubble, the idea of the entrepreneur has been persistently in vogue.  At the same time, no one can really seem to settle on precisely what defines the entrepreneurial spirit.  Ultimately, as I look at the entrepreneurs I most respect, I think I would define the successful entrepreneur as someone who sets out to achieve an ambitious goal and then spends their days tirelessly working to improve their odds of success.

Organizations are established.  Teams are built.  Processes are defined and refined.  Technology is created.  All with a purpose of addressing challenges more effectively and minimizing the chance that things go wrong.

As a patient, I believe my job is much the same.  Along every avenue, seek every opportunity to minimize the risk of further deterioration of health and every opportunity to become healthier than you are today.  In many ways, its just another game of skill and chance, and I’m ok with that.  I’ve been defying the odds all my life.

Slow Food Shanghai’s inaugural Harvest

Over the past several months, I’ve been privileged to work with a bunch of great people to launch a chapter of Slow Food in Shanghai dedicated to cultivating and promoting a robust eco-system for the production, supply and consumption of Good, Clean, Fair Food.  We’ve been hugely excited to see the energy it has generated, and we’re just getting started.  Anyway, for friends near and far that wonder what I’ve been up to in my spare time of late, here’s the details:

SLOW FOOD SHANGHAI’S INAUGURAL HARVEST

Dec 10, 2011, 11:00am to 15:00pm

Slow Food Shanghai’s anticipated launch event is officially set for Saturday, December 10th, 2011!  The launch event will be a veritable harvest of food creations and informative speeches from farmers, restaurants, and local food producers.  All activities are in support of a robust eco-system for the production, supply and consumption of Good, Clean, Fair Food.

The event will run from 11:00 until 15:00 at the top of the JingAn Hilton hotel.  All members of the Shanghai community are invited to share in a day celebrating good, clean, fair food.  We are expecting between 250 and 300 guests to attend and enjoy in the festivities.  An entrance fee of RMB 100 will include a membership to Slow Food International and the Shanghai Convivium, as well as access to the following:

Showcase “Farm-to-Fork” Tastings: a range of leading restaurants will collaborate with local producers to create tasting dishes that comply with the beliefs and ideals of Slow Food.  Some of the confirmed participants include:

Restaurants Farms Local Producers
Anna Maya BioFarm Cutie
Atrium Haikele Fair Globe
DaShuWuJie Mengtian Solo Latte
Kush SH Yingxiang Shengtai Nongchang Spread the Bagel
Madison Tony’s Farm The Elmz
Mr. Willis YiMuTian The Market
Organic Kitchen Chongming Kangyuan Dadi Shengtai Nongzhuang  
Origin    
Purple Onion    
QiMin Hot Pot    
Table No. 1    

Talks: a variety of great speakers are lined up, including the Italian Trade Commission Director, Italian Consul General, and Miss Wang Jing with Green Peace.  These thought leaders on food, sustainability, and cultural cuisines will share perspectives on the dynamic changes in the food landscape in Shanghai and steps we can take to preserve the rich food traditions of the region.

Showcase “Jiashan” Market: we will be working with various finished goods suppliers from the Jiashan market; they will be showcasing jams, cupcakes, cookies, cheeses, granola and other pantry items.  Samples and goods for sale will be offered.


Principled Politics

Over the past twenty years, the field of conflict negotiation has been somewhat transformed by a set of ideas known as “principled negotiation” or “interested-based negotiation”.  Though no single idea was revolutionary at the time, the intellectual framework propounded by Roger Fisher and others affiliated with the Harvard Project on Negotiation (see Getting to Yes and its successors) popularized a new language for thinking about how best to reach an optimal outcome in an environment where a range of stakeholders have diverse and, at times, conflicting beliefs and objectives.

Perhaps the single most important distinction emphasized in the group’s work is between “positions” and “interests”.  A position is essentially the stand someone takes in an argument or negotiation which they thinks gives them the best likelihood of getting them what they want.  An interest is their actual, underlying desire or motivation.

Somewhat surprisingly, people’s stated positions very often look quite different from their actual interests.  Imagine, for example, a negotiation over the price for a trinket at an open market.  The seller asks for $20 (her position).  The buyer asks for $5 (his position).  Neither actually expects to get this price, but both state these positions in an effort to reach a target price of somewhere above $10 and less than $15.  This latter range comes closer to reflecting the stakeholders’ interests with the buyer wanting to spend less than $15 and the seller wanting to earn more than $10.  Realistically, interests can be traced back even further to the buyer’s goal of having a souvenir to remember a great trip and the seller wanting to earn enough money to feed her family.

By focusing on interests earlier in negotiations, parties’ often find that a lot of time can be saved and, most importantly, that the likelihood of finding an outcome that works for everyone is dramatically increased.  The reason is pretty simple, position-based negotiation tends to create large perceived conflict where much less conflict actually exists.  Consider the popular example of two cooks fighting over the last orange in the kitchen.  After a long argument over who should get the orange, they finally compromise and cut the orange in half.  One uses the flesh of the orange for a salad and throws the peel away.  The other uses the peel of the orange for a cake and throws the flesh away.  If both parties had better articulated their interests in the orange, no argument would have been necessary.

Today, it strikes me that the same failure is coming to increasingly pervade American politics.  Take, for example, healthcare.  I would not pretend to be an expert on healthcare policy.  Indeed, I think it is one of my weaker policy areas.  However, it does not take an expert to recognize the failings of the position-based arguments that pervade the healthcare debate.  Amongst the comments that I heard from usually reasonable friends when commenting on the merits of the healthcare bill, here are just a few:

  • “Insurance companies do everything they can to screw their customers.”
  • “They’re going to have ‘death panels’!”
  • “American healthcare is already the best in the world.”
  • “I can’t imagine living in a country that did not guarantee healthcare.”
  • “The government should stay out of my life.”
  • “Obama is a socialist.”

Virtually all of these responses inevitably lead to an end of rational dialogue.  I mean, if someone replies to the question, “How would you recommend striking a balance between assuring citizens of basic healthcare and managing the resulting costs?” by saying, “Obama is a socialist.”  Where do you go next?

The same unconstructive extremes are playing out time and again in America’s current politics on issues ranging from immigration to finance reform to gay marriage.  The lattermost is one of my “favorites”.  By simplifying a bit from broader convictions about morality on one side and civil liberties on the other, the vast majority of the opposition fundamentally does not want the state to interfere with their traditional religious practices and moral codes (e.g. they want separation of church and state), and a substantial majority of the proponents are seeking a distinction between religious marriage, which most all agree should be granted as a religious institution chooses without government interference, and civil marriage, which proponents argue should be available to all citizens without regard to any particular religious code (e.g. they want separation of church and state).

The list could go on, but the message remains the same.  We cannot reach the best solutions by debating positions that are layers upon layers removed from the principles in which we actually believe.  Yes, I understand that painting the world in extremes can sometimes benefit the politician running for office or, even more often, the debater who lacks the knowledge or conviction to articulate more fundamental principles.  However, if even the most thoughtful members of our society are leaning upon patently undiscerning heuristics to inform their views, how can we hope for better behavior in the political sphere?

We need to be citizens and leaders who have the courage and the thoughtfulness to move a step further back in our logic to the salient principles driving our political convictions.  We must ask ourselves, “What are the a priori principles that inform my position on this issue?”

If you are like me, my guess is that the first time you try this, especially on healthcare, you’ll find yourself in some sticky philosophical situations.  For example, let’s play this question out: “Do you believe that basic healthcare is a fundamental right and should be guaranteed by the state?”  On the one hand, we might be tempted to say “yes.”  One the other hand, we may get nervous about the slippery slope of publicly-borne healthcare costs.  From there, we might lean on the long-established American value of self-sufficiency to justify backing away from a governmental guarantee. After thinking even further, we might realize that we’re already a long way down that slippery slope by guaranteeing emergency room care.  From there, we might decide that the state should guarantee some standard of care but debate where “basic” healthcare ends and luxury begins.  Then, we might start wondering if we could save government money by spending on “luxury” preventative care instead of waiting until illness sends someone to the emergency room..clearly, things can get messy quickly.

However, all of the questions above are ultimately answerable.  Each of us could, conceivably, take a meaningful personal stand on these questions.  What’s more, most all of the tradition of contract law is built around articulating these stands effectively and providing accessible definitions when a word or phrase is insufficiently clear.  Don’t get me wrong, these are still incredibly difficult questions to answer as an individual, much less as a group.  However, at least arriving at a majority-supported answer to these questions can begin to provide a foundation for intelligent societal action.  In contrast, answering questions on Obama’s citizenship, the absolutism of insurance companies’ misanthropy, or even the utter superiority of American healthcare, leaves us little closer to the better system that we all agree we want to see.

The next time I find myself discussing policy with friends, I hope we can engage on principles instead of positions.  Once we’re able to do this right, then maybe, just maybe, we can hope that our political leaders will begin to do the same.

Welcome to the Jungle

I just returned from a fantastic adventure in the Malaysian jungle with good friend and fellow Tarheel J.J. Raynor.  She wrote an account at http://longwayforatarheel.wordpress.com/2010/05/06/welcome-to-the-jungle/ that I will repost here for convenience of readers:

“Taman Negara, the largest national rainforest reserve in Malaysia, was one of the few remaining adventures still on my list of things to experience while in Malaysia. I was almost worried that I wouldn’t have a chance to explore it before my time here was up, until last week when my friend Mark Laabs who is working in Shanghai emailed to arrange an impromptu visit to both Malaysia and the forest. Only a few emails and a long boat ride later we were welcomed to the jungle.

Mark, an accomplished hiker and outdoorsman, made an inadvertent but apt observation while comparing the forests back home to Malaysia’s rainforests. “I prefer hiking in temperate forests; they’re just more comfortable.” Rainforests certainly come with a few more hazards than our familiar deciduous forests back home. Constantly checking socks for leeches can make it hard to appreciate the canopy above. During the day, most of these hazards can be managed. The real challenge comes after dark when some of the more deadly creatures in the forest, vipers and their ilk, come alive for their evening hunt. Thanks to an overzealous commitment to intensity, Mark and I almost had the privilege of experiencing the forest at its most intense – i.e. over night.

Our first morning in Taman Negara, we asked the park rangers to recommend a good trail for a day hike. They recommended Latah Berkoh as a nice out and back that would take about six hours. However, only an hour after setting out, we came to a fork where the signposts revealed we had already gone halfway down the Latah Berkoh trail. At this pace, we figured we could easily hike the Kuala Terenggan loop and be back in time for an evening at one of the river restaurants right outside the park. Pleased with our decision, and that we would be putting more space between us and a loud group of tourists, we set off down the trail. After another hour of hiking we found the second fork on the trail, which should have put us half way around the loop, close to the Kuala Terenggan lodge, and already on our way back to the main camp. Unfortunately, soon after leaving the second fork we discovered two things – that the distances on the sign posts and on our maps were ridiculously inaccurate, to the tune of a couple of kilometers off, and that every time I led we would end up losing the trail. (Here, I blame Mark’s height advantage – tall people have an easier time surveying ahead, totally not a difference in skill . . .) By the time we found the trail after our second time losing it, we were both running behind on time and behind the group of noisy tourists we had passed earlier.

While the noisy group took an ill-advised swim break in some pretty leach filled waters, I chatted with their guide about the remainder of the trail after the lodge. Standing wisely with his socks still on atop a rock just barely jutting out of the water, he informed us that the trail ahead was both more difficult and would take us five hours. At this point, the last thirty minutes of those five hours would be after dark. Our options as we left the tourists in the stream seemed pretty limited – push on at top pace to make it back, spend the night at Kuala Terenggan or hope that somehow we could catch a ride with one of the boats coming down the river.

Our first sight of Kuala Terenggan made the overnight option seem out of the question. Instead of a nicely functioning lodge, the trail spilled out of the forest upon an absolutely shattered building, destroyed in a giant tree fall with no sign of even an attempt at restoration. Fortunately, the next two or three chalets we came across were in much better condition if equally abandoned. It wasn’t until we came to the last two chalets that we found any sign of recent occupancy – a solar panel installation, drying laundry, and a pride of mewling cats. Our second attempt at knocking on the doors of the two occupied chalets finally produced a sleepy-eyed older man who agreed to take us in his boat back to camp. Even scruffy from sleep, he was at that moment one of the most welcome sights in the world.

After a quick smoke break, he piled us into his boat and we set off down the river. On our way through the rapids, just the two of us and our rescuer, we passed scores of boats loaded down with a dozen tourists each. We could tell from their envious waves that they were wondering how the two of us had scored a private trip down the rapids. Instead of a hard night in the forest, we ended up maximizing our time at Taman Negara by doing both an extended hike and the rapids all in the same day – a much better outcome than we deserved after trusting the signs over the advice we received in the morning!!

That night, after our river boat dinner, I slept harder than I have in a long while. If the students in the room next door reformed their midnight drum circle from the night before, I had absolutely no clue. All I know is that I woke up the next morning just in time to enjoy the breakfast buffet that, among other, perhaps more serious hardships, we would have missed if we had spent the night in the forest.

On our last day, after a brief stroll around the canopy walk, we wound up hiking to the top of Bukit Indah (literally “beautiful hill”). After clambering over granite boulders and under fallen trees we emerged from the deeper forest into a thin copse of trees with the most incredible brilliant red bark that looked like sheer slices of crimson parchment but were moist and pulpy to the touch. Looking out from the hill top clearing, we could see wooden boats rounding the river’s curve on their way to the rapids. That restful moment seemed like a perfect time to think about why we hike and why we venture, despite the hazards, into the forest.

For Mark, the answer was reflection, the chance to explore his inner world away from the noise and chaos of the daily press. Mine was a desire to get closer to the incredible intrinsic beauty of the forest. There is an intricacy of design and a fitness of purpose layered within a living breathing freshness that makes the forest both wondrous and stunning. A few ant bites and thorn spikes, and the occasional risk of an overnight stay are more than worth it to experience such vitality firsthand.

To check out photos from the trip, visit Mark’s photo website at http://photos.laabs.net/ under Taman Negara and Kuala Lumpur”

The Power of Scarce Time

Yesterday afternoon, I was tired.  Very tired.  It was the kind of bone-weariness that comes when you have a straight week of late nights for work but where the morning still come just as early.  Yeah, that’s right, tired.

As a result, I was a hair’s width of backing out of my evening’s plans and trying to get some rest.  What a loss it would have been!  In the course of last evening, I enjoyed dinner at the coolest apartment I have seen in all of Shanghai, got to know a pretty interesting MD from a innovation and design firm called Continuum along with getting to know a fellow environmental entrepreneur better, enjoyed drinks and live music and a nice club called Anaar, met a Deloitte consultant who has done a lot of Prop 8 work in California (with common friends of mine!), made it out to another club where a solid Israeli DJ was spinning, and closed out the night at a late night place called Mao that I had often heard about but never visited.  In short, it was an epic night!

Why, though, was it post-worthy here?…because of the thing that got me out of bed to begin with – the sense that I didn’t have time to waste.  As with London a year before, I unexpectedly found myself essentially exiled from Shanghai for the end of 2009 to be at home with my father.  Then, I returned to Shanghai with the turn of the new year realizing that I was scheduled to have less than a year more in one of the most dynamic cities in the world.  Where had my endless time gone?

The result, then and now, has been a recommitment to, as Thoreau would put it, suck all the marrow out of life.  I’ve been better at connecting with old friends.  I’ve been discovering new ones.  I’ve begun living in Shanghai, not just working here.  In some ways, it is a strain.  Taking advantage of social opportunities comes at the cost of sleep and more recuperative relaxation, but when my grandkids want to know what it was like to live in China when it was a debutant to the world stage, at least now I will have some stories to tell!

walkscore.com

Through a status update by J J Raynor (who is doing fascinating work in Malaysia these days, by the way), I came across walkscore.com.

It fills you with the same sort of fascination as zillow.com did when it first came out.  Essentially, it looks up all sorts of restaurants, gyms, transit options, etc. on Google Maps, and uses the density of these facilities around your home to determine just how walkable your place is.

It was fun to play with.  My friend Warren’s house in Tribeca accurately comes back as a “Walker’s Paradise.”  Interestingly, my home in Memphis (one of the least walkable cities I have ever found) comes back with a half decent score largely because we happen to be close to a giant strip mall that most Memphians who lived across the street would still drive to.

Either way, check out your score, and, if your house isn’t walkable, I hope it is at least bikeable!

Why we’ll all soon wonder how we lived without a Tablet

Over the years, I have grown to be quite an admirer of Apple.  From a company that seemed to be fighting on the edge of marginalization a decade ago, Apple has, in the relative blink of an eye, been a critical part of revolutionizing not one, not two, but three major industries in the last ten years while pushing several others to raise the levels of their games.  First, they release a neat piece of kit called an Ipod that changed the way the world listened to music.  Then they released iTunes, which changed they way they consumed it (at least legally).  From there they embarked on the iPhone, which has made the consumer smartphone a reality for the first time.  The recent “iDecade” article in BusinessWeek summarizes all of this well.

The next rumored Apple development is the Mac Tablet, described by pundits as a “ten to eleven inch, touch-screen hybrid between the Iphone and a MacBook.”  The timing is right, they argue, with a set of technologies that have been around for a few years but with no product, whether Tablet PC, eReader, or otherwise getting it quite right.  This, they say, is just what Apple is so good at, finding what the consumer wants before they know they want it.

At the same time, they argue, the outcome this time seems less certain.  ”What, really, does a customer need an oversized iPhone for?  It will be too big to carry in your pocket, so you’ll need a bag, and if you need a bag, why not just bring your laptop with you?”

After spending a regrettable amount of the weekend pondering the subject, my answer is that the pundits’ two statements bely the very reason that tablets have failed so far and the reason that Apple, or someone, will make a success of a tablet in the near term.

As I look at the tablet market of the past, it failed for one primary reason: the touch screen was an appendage to a traditional keyboard and mouse system of interaction.  Software run on those same devices assumed keyboards and mice for interaction, so the potential of the touch-screen to enhance their applications lay dormant.  Furthermore, in a single-touch touchscreen environment, the user is really just using their finger as a mouse anyway, and, given that a mouse tends to be more accurate, even that enhancement was really a drawback.

In comes the iPhone, and two things happen.  First, multi-touch goes mainstream.  Pinching, dragging, spinning, flipping.  Virtually endless commands suddenly become possible in a single movement that would have required a number of keystrokes before.  In all honesty, we are just beginning to conceive of the potential applications.  Second, but related to the first, Apps begins to prove that these new modes of user interaction really can outperform the keyboard-and-mouse infrastructure with which we have become familiar.  From “Bump” to Slutterbug, there’s really just too many examples to count.

Now, for a moment, imagine scaling those trends up to a laptop.  Yes, you will still want a keyboard-and-mouse for Microsoft Word and Excel for some time to come.  Writing requires letters, and you won’t beat a keyboard for that for at least two more generations of voice recognition or some kind of mind reading device.  But imagine, for a moment, a fully multi-touch enabled version of the Adobe Creative Suite where one could be shifting a color gradient with one finger while painting with another, or scaling an image while rotating it simultaneously on a shifting axis.  These tasks may sound simple, but they would be dramatically freeing in a creative process that often forces designers to prioritize process over vision.  Alternatively, imagine a DJ software where your screen became a turntable, enabling a dramatically more organic interface for creating and modifying music.

In short, I believe it is the artists who will first show us how a less-encumbered medium of interaction with our computers can lead to exciting results. However, I do not believe it will end there.  Consider our model of media consumption, usually structured in a vertical, prose structure and just now beginning to integrate different media types into the same “feed”.  What if that media looked more like a mind-map where articles and videos were grouped by similarity of topic and sized according to popularity?  It could happen in a keyboard-and-mouse world, but it would be outright painful to interact with.  In the world of a multitouch screen, it really would be almost as natural as the movies have made it seem for years.

The Tablet will not try to couch itself between the iPhone and the MacBook.  It will help the bring the MacBook to the next level of interactivity, leaving us yet one step closer to the way we interface with the real world.  The PC pundits are evaluating the Tablet concept from a worldview where the keyboard-and-mouse interface is the best option whenever available and everything else is second best.  That world is disappeared in 2007.

Invictus

I cannot believe it took a Hollywood film to lead me to discover it, but this poem that Mandela carried with him on Ellis Island stands up in my mind aside Teddy Roosevelt’s “Man in the Arena” speech as one of the most powerful messages of courage in the face of adversity.

    Out of the night that covers me,
    Black as the pit from pole to pole,
    I thank whatever gods may be
    For my unconquerable soul.
    In the fell clutch of circumstance
    I have not winced nor cried aloud.
    Under the bludgeonings of chance
    My head is bloody, but unbowed.
    Beyond this place of wrath and tears
    Looms but the Horror of the shade,
    And yet the menace of the years
    Finds and shall find me unafraid.
    It matters not how strait the gate,
    How charged with punishments the scroll,
    I am the master of my fate:
    I am the captain of my soul.

~William Ernest Henley, 1849–1903, original