Stride & Saunter

It’s a familiar question to many podcasters, but this ask often strikes a particularly vulnerable chord in our comparative and competitive culture. Implied within it is a number worth caring about, a baseline of significance. Unfortunately, this is a belief we typically level at our fellow human beings.

In the many decades since the advent of television, TV shows have prompted all sorts of commentary and critique. Some audiences rave over shows that others never quite get into. Parents perpetually worry about their children’s TV consumption and generational, once-in-a-lifetime events glue many to the silver screen. But, perhaps because of their relative recency in human history, TV shows are rarely discussed or lauded to the same degree as literature, cinema and other narrative forms. How do we juxtapose our private consumption with our public dismissal? What thoughts and feelings do TV shows elicit in us as viewers? How is television a unique medium for stories and other communication?

This week, we return to "Between These Eyes of Ink," a series which dissects and considers quotations and the insights they contain. For our seventh episode, we welcome Sam Whipple to help explore the idea that “Maturity: the confidence to have no opinions on many things”. What are the implications of this idea in a modern, highly-opinionated world? What is the difference between having opinions and sharing them? Can we engage without opinion?

In spite of the unexpected shifts in recent years, this week nonetheless marks the seventh anniversary of the podcast. It’s a strange time but also quite hopeful. While this is formally Kathleen’s final episode as a co-host, I remain optimistic about how future conversations will further illuminate our grand map of what it means to be a human being. My thanks to those who provide the space, compassion and curiosity to listen. It is a real honor to produce this show for you and I look forward to bringing you more thought-provoking and introspective conversations. Yours, in shared humanity, Kip

When tragedy befalls us or our communities, we’re rarely equipped to handle the sorrow, confusion or emotional gravity of the circumstances. In the modern era, this difficulty meeting the most agonizing moments has been illuminated by the utterances of “thoughts and prayers”. Often in response to great losses and acts of violence, the phrase has come to seem hollow and politically-polarized to many. Are there words that can properly carry the appropriate emotions attendant to these circumstances? For those that say so with sincerity, are there other, more convincing words they could say? Do some use these words in lieu of action?

What impact does birth order have on your personality, your life and your abilities? According to some, a great deal. In particular, middle children of history are regarded for their innovation, their shrewd diplomacy and their creativity. But with changing attitudes and preferences in America, families are having fewer children and this demographic is going extinct. This is described in an article from The Cut, which we discuss this week. What could be the long-term impact on our society? Are their skills and experiences endemic to the existence of middle-children from which we all benefit?

Making sense of our world is a profoundly human experience. Some default to artistic pursuits while others take up fulfilling hobbies and yet others still defer to the sciences. When it comes to data, however, those of us without solid understanding can be easily misled or confused. This issue was the subject of an article from Aeon, which we discuss this week with Leland Holcomb. How does the confident certainty of numbers allow for misunderstanding? How are larger figures used to distort our perception of scale?

Six years ago today, in a radically different world needing very much the same things, Hector and I embarked on a discursive journey to explore the human experience and our relationship(s) to it. Though I write this in a challenging moment, I’m optimistic about learning to be done and am grateful to have made the journey with Hector, Caroline, Kathleen and so many others. My sincere gratitude to those who listen, especially in these inconsistent times. I remain of the conviction that this show will continue to improve as its voices and listeners do and I’m humbled to hold such a rewarding relationship with so many. Love, Kip

In a period where so much has slowed down or ground to a halt, previous definitions and metrics feel strange and irrelevant. Beyond the application of our past perspectives, it seems only natural to conclude that where there was once something, so radical a series of losses must leave nothing. Where there once was someone, doing a series of tasks and pursuing a variety of lives, there must now be no one. This is, however tempting the thought, not the truth - which is something far more encouraging.

How would we each respond to a call for help? Some might say they’d leap to the aid of their fellow person, while others would request more information about the hypothetical. In the era of the internet, given vast distances and anonymity, these circumstances are more complicated than ever before. And over the 2019 holiday season, and elder woman named Carrie from Tulsa, Oklahoma learned precisely how blunt the response can be. Lonely and seeking a family to share the spirit of the season with, her Craigslist ad was primarily met with hostility, suspicion and ridicule. How should we evaluate our social norms and dynamics given the prevalence of vehemence here? What can we learn about the sensitive dynamic between compassion and caution? What might this event indicate about an increasingly digital world?

Straightforward as it is, human silence (especially between or among others) carries a great deal of meaning. Or, perhaps more precisely, a great many possible meanings. Could those of us that are choosing not to voice or express our sentiments prevent or minimize confusion by explaining our silence? Is it always possible? These have been recent musings of mine.-Kip

It’s often said that history is written by the victors. I would at that it is remembered and offered to future readers by those present and observing. And where victorious parties have a necessarily skewed vision, the most powerful and accurate histories will incorporate every possible perspective and story. To that end, I implore you to start writing and allow a history for our successors. Whoever they may be and however they may see us, let’s give them the light to do so.-Kip

While music has been consumed since time immemorial, video games are a much less popular medium by comparison. In this entry of an ongoing series meant for non-gamers, we wanted to explore how music is used in video games to great effect. And - in the circumstances of a global pandemic - what insights we might find within the music of video games. How do their soundtracks ward of the monotony of repetitive tasks? How does music help clarify the tone of a given moment or encounter?

Reflections on how we speak when conversation is necessary, but not all that we need.

Even in the information-rich twenty-first century, the many mechanisms of the mind remain shrouded in mystery. Our abilities of recollection, creativity and intuition continue to astound and intrigue researchers and civilians alike. Perhaps most curious of all are the origins of our thoughts and ideas. When questioned by others about the seeds of our thoughts, are they asking sincerely? How does our curiosity about the thinking worlds of others impact their own relationships to internal thoughts and feelings?

Some earn the admiration of their peers and followers while others become the subjects of scorn, envy and resentment. This week, we're joined by Jason Cerf to explore this distinction in the comparison of bosses and leaders. What associations - influenced by the working world - do we have with bosses that we don't ascribe to leaders? Is one position more idealized or less realistic than the other? When are these roles necessary, cumbersome or over-complicated?

Anyone with even a cursory experience of language can attest to its power. Words wield the capacity to lift us out of lingering darkness and to drive us into great acts of courage, love and beauty. Most immediately in our lives, we have experiences with names and their personal, varied meanings. New York Times columnist Sarah Miller captures this idea well in her piece satirizing her experience with the name “Karen” and the various behaviors she associates with it. How do we collectively come to associate a single name with such a wide swath of attitudes and beliefs? Do we give a name meaning or does that process flow the other way?

Relationships of all sorts bring up complex emotions tied to esteem, perspective, individual needs and loss. And just like these interpersonal circumstances, our responses to the relationships of others are just as varied and nuanced. In particular, the phrase “their loss,” has become a common refrain to console those after a pitfall or difficult experience. What do these words suggest about our views on relationships? Do we ever use the opposite language to speak in terms of a “gain”? And how does this frame the recipient of these words in an infallible light or as a prize?

For many of us, life is a journey of discovering, tracing or defending the truths we perceive. Truth is a precious commodity and one that seems all at once secure, transient and elusive. Shared truths are especially powerful and often revealed by prominent figures around us. Helen Rosner of The New Yorker shared one such example in her 2018 article on famed chef, Anthony Bourdain. This week, we discuss her ideas about the intersection of fame, food and sincerity that Bourdain represented and continues to represent.

Though people in the professional world lament the stress, energy-drain and overall toll of their jobs on their lives, most adults acknowledge work as a component of their lives. How would the world differ if work dominated every waking moment? What would culture look like and how would we structure our lives? This week, we welcome Leland Holcomb to explore an Aeon article that grapples with these questions. It references the idea of "total work” and examines how this trend would erode our playful moments.