My first reading of Margaret Wheatley's writings many years ago aroused the sensation described by Keats in his "On First Looking into Chapman's Homer" - which ends with those mesmerizing last words: "Silent, upon a peak in Darien". Keats compares his sudden discovery of Chapman's translation of Homer with the moment Hernan Cortes and his... Continue Reading →
One Hundred Years of Lassitude
Tripping blithely over the yawning inaction of recent times, let me attempt to slide back into rhythm with relatively less effort, by simply capturing some bits of observation lying about in my notes from the last few years: Winks: Struck by the glaring departure from the exemplary compliance culture of the Swiss, implied by the... Continue Reading →
Time Travel: Unfiled Snippets
Here's an entry that got sucked into a time warp. The lines below were written in the first week of September during an INSEAD week, but disappeared into a seldom-accessed Drafts folder on my pda-phone:- Propped by in bed in Ibis Fontainebleau right now. Fatima is rolling about in the sheets, putting her newly bought... Continue Reading →
42: The Inner Theatre of Introverts
It is common knowledge that introverts use an inner theatre of thought to formulate and refine ideas, while extroverts have a bias for expressing thoughts early and refining them through dialog and interaction. Introverts are under the constant compulsion to utter only well-rehearsed words. Every sentence should be an exquisite rendition of a finely sculpted thought. ... Continue Reading →