Two years ago, crammed into a tiny green gazebo at the house of my wife's grandparents in Voronezh, Russia, the simplest of meals somehow changed my life.
Seemingly every day marks the introduction of another way to reduce the time we spend cooking and eating. Thanks, but no thanks.
This Spring, I participated in the inaugural public IDEO U course, "Insights For Innovation." It was a wonderful experience—I've got lots of thoughts on the course itself, but that's for another day. I'd like to unpack some of the insights about the 70-year-old theatergoing public I gathered while working through the lessons
At the door, a man—wielding a large knife—slicing, always slicing. You walk in. Pause. A single question. In Italian at first—then English, if you, like I, seem a little puzzled. But you needn't be. There are only two options. This blunt simplicity has a weird way of translating the Italian in your brain after the fact. "Oh, of course that's what he said," you think.
Attention is a finite resource, and because it describes what we’re looking at, what we’re working on, what we’re thinking about, who we’re talking to, it’s a deeply meaningful metric. How people choose to spend their attention can tell us a lot about what matters to them.
I’ve been thinking a lot about change recently. About how we all move through time — how time passes seemingly without end. How progress is inevitable, inescapable, incontrovertible. And yet the word progress is not quite right for what’s happening and that’s been bugging me. In one sense, sure, it’s pretty indisputable that we are moving forward, for there is no alternative. But progress implies moving upward as well, and, well, that’s where things get sticky.