This book was a lot of fun to read. It helped confirm my convictions around science and rational optimism.

Science’s mission towards representation of the natural world pushes out any reliance on supernatural beliefs for good explanations.

The Enlightenment, as a consequence of science’s philosophy, set the bases for human progress in a way no other form of collective thought had done before.

What’s the Enlightenment’s biggest gifts? The promotion of individualism and liberty of thought, which allow ideas to mature in groups. Large-scale problems are solved by rational ideas that spring up from these, not from those that tap into the emotional, like nationalism and tribalism. We take such liberties for granted and rarely acknowledge the historical efforts that have provided them.

This book put words to notions I have around factless, rhetoric-fueled ideologies, organizations and rituals. It’s mind-blowing how much information is collated, referenced and structured into flowy, fact-based explanations around the multiple subjects it touches.

Writing is not, and can never be, something natural.

Speaking is natural. We do it unconsciously, most of the times.

Words flow out with little reflection.

It’s an exposure of habits within us.

Writing is not natural.

There’s a sense of watching yourself think while you’re doing it.

The need to structure thoughts into the finger’s mechanical motions is separate from spoken sentences.

A self-consciousness that interrupts the movement of your thoughts.

Writing that’s meant to mimic the flow of spoken language is composed of short and rhythmic sentences.

Very few multi syllabic words.

It means the writer is aware of the reader’s attention and understanding.

More than avoiding complex sentences and technical words, what captivates readers is rhythm.

The writer’s capacity to inject cadence and grant breathing room.

Another breeding ground for novel-thinking, self-assesment and of how we think about social behaviour.

Concepts are explained from the perspective of behavioural economics and psychology. Some can be found, in different words, in philosophy.

It simply enlarges the significance of both areas of study. Individual and social behaviour is evaluated from two ends producing similar conclusions.

Behaviour is a product of biology and environment. The mind is a series of electrical impulses that live in the brain and are ruled by physical laws. There’s nothing supernatural about it.

Its study from a social science perspective grants scientific method to questions that have been asked by philosophy. “What is the meaning of life?” “What is happiness?” These are historically debated by philosophers. To behavioural economists, they’re measurable experiments.

Two selves, the experiencing and the remembering, shape the perception of happiness. They expose how complicated it is to reach a quick, objective answer.

Flow state, when seen as the engine of happiness, is a representation of the experiencing self. The more our focus lives in it, the better we feel about anything.

This is not what usually happens to us. We struggle to focus on the experiencing self and our focus is pushed by genetics and evolution towards the remembering self. The one that sources pleasant emotions but also the one that makes our thoughts wonder in the past and in the future. The source of anxiety, fears and doubts. The ingredients of an unhappy life.

Thoughts dwindled in the unsaid.

On things I could enable that would help coping with the fight: exotic places, experiences.

I thought of the futility of cell-killing chemicals.

Those that repair the broken bridge ahead with wood from next one.

I thought of depleting emergency funds. Of justified lies for the promise of expense coverage.

I even thought of rotten cells dying by glucose starvation.

Solutions are task forces, navigating in the vast ocean of the mind.

Entertainment, the clouds above them.

They are cleared by warm water and solitude, sadly, reactive. Void of forecast or planning.

Those which would have been granted by negative visualization.

Instead, apathy and a twisted rhetoric is the reality. An ignored burden.

We’re granted the freedom to become lords of the realm of our thoughts.

Lords of our skull-sized kingdom.

There are many types of freedom.

Ones focus on winning, achieving and displaying.

Others focus on us being the center of the universe.

One where there’s no experience, where we’re not the protagonist.

The truly important kind is the one which involves attention.

Awareness, discipline, caring for others. Thinking.

Thinking demands the ability to control focus.

The ability to learn. The ability to master thoughts.

To exercise control over how and what to think.

The mind is an excellent servant but a terrible master.

A lifelong objective is to master our thoughts.

To avoid the ramblings of the inner voices that plague us.

Voices concerned with the future and past.

Voices that wander around in the impressions that others have of us.

They’re blind to what’s present, to what exists now.

They’re fish oblivious to the water they’re swimming in.

Derek Sivers provides 27 conflicting answers put in gentile, concise words but are packed with philosophy, consciousness and meaning.

His words function as an elegant boxer, well-trained and efficient, throwing precise jabs at an opponent. The opponent being our anxious, doubtful or prejudiced thoughts, wondering if any of life’s paths are the correct one.

We traverse the world in a vessel.

The vessel is home and has multiple windows.

Each window, a view of the world.

Each, a unique process and experience.

The windows are many, but we control which one is used.

No window is a wrong choice.

We’re composers of a symphony. Conductors of an orchestra.

We’re free to choose from an assortment of instruments.

Each with its unique cadence, flavour, texture.

Each entering and exiting the symphony at a moment’s request.

The rock is emotionless.

It’s out there, existing. It doesn’t change because of our feelings or desires.

Like the floor beneath the dancer, a blacksmith’s hammer or thermodynamics laws.

It won’t change its shape or respond to complaints. It won’t flinch.

The changing entities are within our bodies: fingers, shoulders, tendons.

With enough repetitions, they become stronger.

Mixed with patience, goals are achievable. That’s a good compromise but it’s not the best one.

The truly fulfilling skill comes as a realization at a given point in the path of habit.

As more of a “Oh OK, I can do this” rather than “Hooray, I just did this.”

The best kind of gratification is a realization in the middle of a recurring process.

A second-hand effect. A collateral of enjoying an acquired habit.

When starting out learning a new skill, referencing professionals and people at the top of the game isn’t the most efficient way to learn.

The skills are so advanced it’s hard to find techniques than can be practiced which are appropriate to the current level. Knowing how to bridge the gap between beginner and expert is a skill of its own. Oswaldo Zuniaga’s The Crux is a book that’s just about bridging this gap.

Watching professionals at work is enough for entertainment but should be considered with care as a resource for learning. If so, it can be easy to fall quickly into frustration due to the relatively slow learning and skill-acquiring process.

At this stage in my rock climbing journey, I get pretty much the same experience and learning than non-climbers from watching an Adam Ondra video sending Silence or Alex Honnold’s free soloing El Capitan. They’re such highly technical climbs and the mental challenge so large, that it’s hard for me to take notice of something practical that would make me improve. That’s where guys like Oswaldo come in. They provide the substance that lowers the barrier of entry for amateurs and enthusiasts like me, who do this as a non-professional activity.

The Crux pours even more magic into bridging the skills gap as it also covers mental and philosophical aspects inherent to rock climbing and nicely relates to other aspects of life itself.

This book makes a very efficient case that subjectiveness is not only bound to individuals but is also present in our social consciousness. It distorts our world-view on the important aspects that drive progress, and more immediately, help us understand problems.

The way we deal with world-wide problems through unsupported claims stems from our primitive brain and tribal thinking. It’s natural for our species. Even if claims are highly technical and based on the rational, if facts are incorrect, we’ll be going down the wrong path. Maps are a great piece of technology but even if we firmly believe in the practical uses of maps, if the map we’re following is faulty, we’d be going the wrong way.

What I enjoyed most of this book is its structure. It’s creative for framing the problem but also very efficient on its arguments and facts around them. Books that dwell on technicalities and are meant for a general audience —in this case economics, data interpretation and statistics— should take reference from this one. There’s no absolute need to reveal the technicals behind some arguments. It would make the book diverge from its intention, potentially boring or scaring away readers.