More and more the thought began to gather shape, Was I getting the most, or the best, out of life? Was there no other kind of life in which toil was redeemed from baseness by its own inherent interest, no life which offered more of tranquil satisfaction and available, if humble, happiness? Day by day this thought sounded through my mind, and each fresh discouragement and disability of the life I led gave it sharper emphasis. At last the time came when I found an answer to it, and these chapters tell the story of my seeking and my finding.

I’ve just started to read The Quest of the Simple Life and I can tell this is going to be interesting.

You miss 100% of the shots you don't take.

This resonates with me a lot at the moment. Working in Product I’m surrounded by smart people and ideas. I have a long list of incredibly brilliant product and business ideas that - if only I had the time - would surely be runaway successes. Surely. But the problem is - I almost certainly do have the time. If I was genuine with myself and set this as my priority, I could easily find the hours needed.

The best reading strategy I’ve come across is the idea of a wide funnel and tight filter. Be willing to read anything that looks even a little interesting, but abandon it quickly and without mercy if it’s not working for you.

Morgan Housel makes a great point. This is something I really struggle with.

I love the sense of achievement that comes with finishing a book, and that is only tightened when I feel I’ve completed something that was difficult or not interesting to me. But this is surely the wrong approach.

Also quoted in another of Housel’s articles on this topic, Mark Twain said, “the man who doesn’t read good books has no advantage over the man who can’t read them”.

There are far too many books in the world to spend time reading poor ones, so if I am to find and enjoy the good books, I surely have no choice but to leave those not worth my time unfinished.

I need to work past my mind on this.

I need to stop thinking that just because I struggle with a particular book, it doesn’t mean I’m not educated enough, or dedicated enough to get through this otherwise clearly excellent script.

It just means that at this moment, for me, it’s not the right thing to read.

And that’s okay.

This time is different

Here we are again. Another attempt, another blog. I recently deleted my Twitter profile. Not remotely a political move, but the service just isn’t what it used to be. There’s too much noise, too much spam, and every service that attempts to recommend content rather than simply feed me what I’ve asked for becomes more and more annoying to me. It become increasingly rare to see a post on Twitter from a friend or even just an account that I actively followed.