It has taken me a long time to realize the mistake I made in marketing; it was in discussion with a friend last night that the penny finally dropped.
Now, it would be more than five years ago that I spoke with an insurance agent for ships, and spoke about his business. He wanted a marketer, but only one who knew as much about insuring shipping as he did. That is to say, the kind of person who knows more about insurance than they do marketing – but that’s the crazy world of marketing for you.
[I only stumbled across this blog today, it is worth a look as it is both charmingly written and has deep insight. It looks at the world from a very different viewpoint to my own, which is truly inspiring. Enjoy the read, I did! – Gem]
The title to this entry indicates that I believe there is some mysterious underlying truth beneath the label and psychiatric diagnosis of schizophrenia; something which is not commonly known, and w…
I was in Germany last week – not that you’d know it – but there was one evening when a group of people decided to have a party. Now given that they only get together once a year, and they are German, this means one thing and one thing only: alcohol. Oh, and sausages too. And a great deal else that is truly scrummy yummy. If you put down a German for eating sausages, you’ve never tried one of theirs – at least their better quality ones. What’s more, they’ve got eight hundred different varieties too. Their beer is incomparable: it is carefully brewed to the Reinheitsgebot, their cleanliness rules that allow only four ingredients: water, yeast, malt and hops. And literally nothing else. The Germans have been brewing their beer like this since 1527 or whenever it was.
Gabriel Oak is the central character in Thomas Hardy’s “Far From The Madding Crowd.” The man is a man of his time: a shepherd who aspires to be a farmer in his own right. No mean attainment then, no mean attainment today. If you have read the work, you will know that it does not go well for Oak, and on losing his flock he is left nearly penniless.
The hiring fair at Casterbridge – Hardy’s name for Dorchester, if I remember correctly – is where any jobbing man might find work. The shepherds have their crooks, the cowherds a switch of ash, the tools by which they show their trade. For this was a time when activities appropriate to the pre-industrial, mediaeval times were still at large. The effects of modernity were yet to have any real effect on hammering the proletariat. Our current time requires the human to think for themselves, and if they do not, they will be punished severely. Not by God, not by circumstances, but by each other’s greed.
The truth is, well, the truth. If there is one thing I have learned in the course of my life, it is that either people accept the truth or they do not. In not accepting the truth, they prefer illusion.
There are no two ways about this. Either it is the truth, or it is illusion.
But there’s a problem with discerning the truth, and that is when one’s understanding of the truth lies in one’s subconscious. There are two aspects to this: the things that one is unaware of that one likes – and the things that one is unaware of that one does not like.
If I am lucky, it happens once a week; not always, but more often than not. Oh, what is it, you say? Well, I meet someone who says something like “well, I listen sometimes.” Or perhaps they say, “I do a little.”
It is October of 2006, and the aircraft carrier USS Kittyhawk is doing its bit in the East China Sea between Taiwan and Japan, near where it is based. For the Americans and their navy, it is important that their strength should be known to the world, they are, after all, the world’s policeman.
In his quixotic and paradoxical series of lectures on economy, Rudolf Steiner speaks of how the division of labour is the key to modern society. He explains at length how no one person can supply all his needs for himself – the farmer needs a blacksmith, the blacksmith needs the tanner and the tanner needs a tailor. All of these people supply something that the other person cannot produce for themselves, or at least, they cannot produce this for themselves and make a living for themselves. Continue reading “The Division Of Labour.”→
This is my cat, Misho. He’s adorable, not just because he’s fluffy, but because he’s friendly. Very friendly.
It’s only been some 150 years since cats have been seen as being the stuff of house pets. Before that, they were simply there to keep the place free of rats and mice, either in the home or on the farm. They would have to fend for themselves, but in those times, there were far more mice around. Cities as we know them – concrete, tarmac and solid brick walls were barely known back then and mice could be something of a problem.
For all my having spoken of T.H. Meyer’s book (a series of posts on my private blog), I speak of my own reading less even than I do my gardening. I read for pleasure, I read frequently and passionately, absorbing books as though they were conversations. There are a few that I read for the details, boring books that tell me things I could not know, this is where a different world to my own is unveiled for me. But in such cases, that is all they bring: facts.