I'm willing to bet you've been told before to 'do your best'. The mantra can be helpful: to reassure mistakes, i.e. "You did your best," to combat perfectionism to the point of anxiety, to alter actionable outcomes in areas you do not excel in, love or understand. I do not doubt the utility of the phrase in a world where diverse skill sets are exalted amid increasing pressure to keep busy and multi-task.
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When we were little, we used to designate "magical places." One involved fireflies, a ravine filled with thousands of their twinkling lights, a rope swing over it on hot and muggy, green and buzzing summer nights. The one stipulation to a place being labeled "magical", though, was that then we could never tell a soul about it – what it was or why it was magical. We could only bring them to there directly. In the accidental, unaffected wisdom of young people, we knew that real magic is only undermined by trying to convey it. Maybe real magic is all those things a person must experience firsthand to truly understand. It could be that true magic demands to be deeply felt to be fully appreciated and comprehended. Perhaps its greatest powers are only revealed to us when we pick magic apart, inhale it, soak it in, marvel at it in deliberate wonder and awe. It's a comforting thought really, because then, all of those deeply personal and devastatingly incommunicable moments of our lives are actually little filaments of real-life magic. When woven together, they form a strand of continuous light. A year has ended and begun, as things do. Days and ages and work weeks and lunar phases. Relationships, which must constantly shift or end, depending on if they're destined for a season, a reason, or a lifetime. Human lives, although we like to pretend that our state could not easily change at any given moment.
We might have taken the New Year in two ways. For some it was just another day; we might not look up from the path we’re on. We’re happy or unhappy, restless or complacent -- but don’t forget that someone, somewhere has chosen that route but you don’t need to. Or maybe, maybe you've got it, maybe you just know that with each new day comes equal potential for new meaning. For some the New Year signifies a new chapter. But the thing about the organic chapter – that of the novel – is it comes without fireworks. There are no judgments or resolutions on a chapter page. It is simply there. It holds no meaning in itself, except for the fact that it means everything. In that moment, we know instinctively that something of great significance has occurred. "The unassuming quality of the chapter, its way of not insisting on its importance but marking a transition nonetheless, turns out to be its most useful, if also its most vexing, quality. It is a vocabulary for noting the way we can organize our pasts into units. Some things stop; others begin.” The beauty of creating a life is we designate the chapters. The calendar year is a human construct, nothing more. It's rigid and inflexible, so perhaps it's unfair of us to measure ourselves against such an insensitive standard. But the thing is, we decide whether we give it meaning, whether it will mark a new chapter or transition. It’s important to recognize when a new chapter is needed, to write it in. But just as important is realizing when a chapter change has occurred – when something has shifted, imperceptibly, in our own little worlds – without us even meaning it to. Opening that acceptance email, hearing those speeches. Starting that job. The Sunday walk, that airport arrival gate. Instant coffee for two. And it's that moment, and you know – without even knowing how you got there. And it's like, it couldn't have happened any other way. “The great moments of your life won't necessarily be the things you do, they'll also be the things that happen to you. Now, I'm not saying you can't take action to affect the outcome of your life, you have to take action, and you will. But never forget that on any day, you can step out the front door and your whole life can change forever. You see, the universe has a plan kids, and that plan is always in motion. A butterfly flaps its wings, and it starts to rain. It's a scary thought but it's also kind of wonderful. All these little parts of the machine constantly working, making sure that you end up exactly where you're supposed to be, exactly when you're supposed to be there. The right place at the right time.” Two words are projected on-screen above the three panelists during the Oxford Publishing Society (OPuS) Innovative Independents event: "It matters." Lingering from the final speaker’s PowerPoint as panelists engage with their audience in Q&A, the phrase encapsulates perfectly the spirit of the evening’s discourse.
'What matters' to independent publishers today? From representatives of Snowbooks, Unbound, and Barefoot Books, the OPuS audience of publishing students and professionals learned the answer is manifold. To the head of eBooks at Unbound, what matters is simple: authors, and readers. A seemingly obvious answer, yet connecting these two is what Unbound is all about. The website and crowdfunding platform allows readers to contribute funds toward their favourite story ideas pitched by authors. When the funding goal for an author’s idea is reached, the book is published, then distributed straight back to the reader. 'What matters' here is that the product is viewed as ‘good’ and the consumer feels involved. Plus, “People will invest in ideas that stimulate them.” For a co-founder of Barefoot Books, matters of importance are the values on which the company was built and stands on yet today: advancing the power of the narrative and publishing "radically multicultural" picture books. Utilising the flexibility that a small publishing house is afforded, Barefoot accomplishes this via a nontraditional social selling model and its Ambassadors Programme. To advance cross-cultural understanding, “I wanted a publishing business that expressed cultures from outside the post-industrial Western culture.” The co-founder of Snowbooks and Bibliocloud feels passionately that injecting humanity back into the publishing process, and a general lack of enthusiasm for good data management, are key issues for publishers today. “We need to make our industry into something far more fiery that it is ... We have to get better at using the tools that are freely available, easy to learn, and necessary for this industry.” Common to the three speakers is the belief that a real sense of urgency should be driving publishing companies to adopt more efficient and innovative practices in data management, distribution, and audience engagement. If industries outside publishing are harnessing technology to its fullest extent to involve and empower the public, what does this mean for publishers – supposedly the foremost disseminators of information? Not unique to independents, these are ideas sweeping the publishing industry today. These are ideas that matter. A bookshop is a rarity in more ways than one. It offers pieces of information to be discovered, scattered across surfaces and shelves, ready to be picked up at random. Ready to transform us. This is real, unadulterated selection - without the means to satisfy our tendency to simply affirm our own self-approving views. Online, in conversation, it's second nature to let our pre-meditated thoughts guide us, overpower other perspectives. But then there's this. So much of life is created and amplified, surprising us, by what we didn’t know we wanted. And the best things come to us by chance. Is it possible that bookshops, with all of their little revelations and delights, could someday cease to exist? Modern advancements have impacted book culture in no small way, but there are still places for the book. And it's important to note that reading materials have improved as a result. Once, book covers were simply title and author. Today the book is something attractive and eye-catching and, in a culture of immediate gratification, seemingly more desirable. Yet I refuse to accept that the sole reason brick-and-mortar bookshops should be preserved is to satisfy a craving for loveliness, a bout of nostalgia. People find beauty in innumerable places, tiny nooks and vast spaces, none more critical to conserve than the next. To reduce a bookshop and all of the stories and truths within it to such superficial terms undermines its enlightening and educative purposes. A book is not just a pretty picture, nor is it something condensable. It is not even the outlet that it's commonly understood to be, as if accessible only to an exclusive club of self-proclaimed 'book enthusiasts'. A bookshop is the pretty and the ugly, the good and the bad. It is the timeless and the innovative, the ubiquitous and the rare. It is a platform for truth and a channel to more. And it is a hope. For an ever-changing world, for the means to expand our beings – step outside of ourselves for a bit – rather than simply float along, self-centered and one-dimensional. “My own eyes are not enough for me, I will see through those of others. Reality, even seen through the eyes of many, is not enough. I will see what others have invented…. In reading great literature I become a thousand men and yet remain myself. Like the night sky in the Greek poem, I see with a myriad eyes, but it is still I who see. Here, as in worship, in love, in moral action, and in knowing, I transcend myself; and am never more myself than when I do.” - C.S. Lewis Many people, myself included, delight in a new place for the opportunity to enhance and develop what we know about the world and those who inhabit it. "If you're 22, physically fit, hungry to learn and be better, I urge you to travel - as far and as widely as possible. Sleep on floors if you have to. Find out how other people live and eat and cook. Learn from them - wherever you go." - Anthony Bourdain We love to edit our usual outlooks by encountering new things and people and places we never dreamed exist exactly as they do. But a surprising risk is inherent to life with the unfamiliar. And that is that each time we jump, step or tiptoe into the greater unknown there's a chance we'll find a (somewhat uncomfortable) need to re-evaluate ourselves. As it turns out, in a place where no one knows you there are calls to properly identify and define who you are - to others, so first to yourself. Yet with risk comes opportunity. And utilizing the heightened awareness of someone outside of their own bubble and ego, you get to choose. Which parts of you will stay - define you - and which should go. So you improve. You evolve. In any new place await both joys and challenges. But if just one new view is brought to light, one mindset challenged or one stereotype shattered by your open heart and capacity for change, more than just you are better for it. As you better understand, the world is better understood. That's my hope, anyway. Flawless. Crazy, isn’t it, how one word holds so much influence, and the power to both build up and destroy. It’s double-edged. If viewed as something inherent, the term holds capacity for unbelievable empowerment. But if something to constantly strive for, to earn, the fleeting notion can physically and mentally tear its seeker apart. A world of malleable social profiles often finds us breaking ourselves down in an attempt to depict ourselves as someone who is flawless. And frankly, I am sick of it. We waste our time in this way instead of actually doing something that matters, like striving to “perfect” ourselves through the pursuit of new knowledge, thinking, or creating. Accomplishing something that we can actually be proud of. Because the truth is, you are not what you look like, the label, or the pretty picture. You are what you do. You are what you do, and not just long-term. You are your morning routine. You are how you take your coffee, you're whether you tap your toothbrush against the sink. You are what you think and the ways you relate to others. Which ideas resonate with you enough to tuck into your heart and your worldview. Who you met at the bookstore or standing in some line, and what they told you. Who you were at age 3, at 7, at 18. Who you will be at 90. And here’s the kicker: We need to view others in this way as well. Now I’m not saying we’re perfect. Anyone who has experienced loss or pain will tell you that’s not how life works either. Maybe truth is that things are meant to be flawed, chaotic, imperfect. Because that’s how life is. It gives the world contrast; causes us to appreciate things that are not perfect, but important and good and, above all, real. Consider the idea that flawlessness cannot be achieved without combining imperfections to make one perfect whole. The idea that flawlessness is not only attainable, but has already been attained. Besides, if we had everything there would be no space for confidence, for perseverance, for faith - concepts which necessitate obstacles to exist. We need to start viewing ourselves in the same way that we do these glorified constructs. We need to become more aware of the beautiful flaws of our own beings. To flaunt both our best qualities and our imperfections. To view life, ourselves, and others through a lens of acceptance. Only then can we show ourselves off to the world in our entirety. Now I’m talking about our whole selves here, not just the pieces we choose to project to others while holding back those we think to be unworthy. Because if we fake it long enough, we forget that the pieces that we hide are just as much a part of us. Then we are breaking ourselves, literally tearing our own beings apart, and consequently, we can never be whole. Maybe flawless is a fictitious concept; impossible to attain. Or maybe it’s everything. And up for grabs for anyone who chooses to claim it. |
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