Instructions to Forgive

Instructions to forgive
A poem by Cesar Verrier

First, remember. It is a painful task.

Be gentle with yourself.

Write down your recollections.

You can’t forgive what you refuse to remember.

Start your excursion into memory

before you were so cruelly treated.

Recapture what your life was like then

and what you were like, too.

Reconstruct whatever relationship existed between you

and that person before rage blurred your vision.

Once you have retrieved the happier past,

let yourself relive the injury in all its painful detail.

Then review the consequences.

Take careful inventory of the losses

you may not have named before.

Unleash your gift of insight:

try to understand why things happened as they did.

Probe the personalities involved, yourself included.

You may discover that you yourself contributed

to the course of events.

Don’t fall into the trap of making excuses for yourself.

Be willing to try to forgive yourself as well.

Don’t feel obliged to make excuses

for the person who hurt you, either.

Just try to the best of your ability to understand

what was happening inside the offender.

Do you really want to forgive?

Something in the human heart loves dark feelings.

Something in the human heart wants justice.

Some things don’t, in decent human terms, deserve forgiveness.

Forgiving is not something you do for someone else.

Forgiving is something you do for yourself.

You need to forgive

so that you can move forward with life.

Forgiveness is your ticket to freedom.

Let go the bitter feeling you have nursed

like a hungry child so long.

Try praying for your enemy.

One day you may find yourself really wishing well

to the person who hurt you,

or suddenly realize

that you haven’t thought of the old injury for weeks.

Then you will know you have reached the journey’s end.

Forgiving can be a long road indeed,

but at its end lies freedom

to leave behind that heavy burden.

 

 

Instrucciones para perdonar

 

Primero, recordá. Es una tarea dolorosa.

Sé gentil con vos mismo.

Escribí tus recuerdos.

No podés perdonar lo que rechazás recordar.

Empezá tu excursión a la memoria

antes de que fueras tratado tal cruelmente.

Reviví cómo era tu vida entonces

y cómo eras vos, también.

Reconstruí la relación que existía entre vos

y aquella persona antes de que la furia nuble tu visión.

Una vez que hayas recobrado el pasado feliz,

permitite revivir la herida con todos sus detalles dolorosos.

Después revisá las consecuencias.

Hacé un cuidadoso inventario de las pérdidas

que no hayas nombrado antes.

Desatá el don de la intuición:

tratá de entender por qué las cosas ocurrieron como lo hicieron.

Verificá las personalidades involucradas, con vos incluido.

Podés descubrir que vos mismo contribuiste

al curso de los sucesos.

No caigas en la trampa de hacer excusas por vos mismo.

Sé capaz de tratar de perdonarte a vos mismo también.

No te sientas obligado a hacer excusas

por la persona que te hirió, tampoco.   

Simplemente tratá de entender lo mejor que puedas

qué pasaba dentro de quien te ofendió.

¿Realmente querés perdonar?

Algo en el corazón humano ama los sentimientos oscuros.

Algo en el corazón humano anhela justicia.

Algunas cosas no merecen, en términos humanos decentes, perdón.

Perdonar no es algo que vos hacés por otro.

Perdonar es algo que hacés por vos mismo.

Necesitás perdonar

para que vos puedas moverte hacia adelante en la vida.

Perdonar es tu ticket hacia la libertad.

Dejá ir el sentimiento amargo que alimentaste

como un niño hambriento por tanto tiempo.

Tratá de rezar por tu enemigo.

Un día podés encontrarte realmente deseando lo mejor

para la persona que te hirió,

o darte cuenta repentinamente

que no pensaste en la vieja herida por semanas.

Entonces sabrás que tu viaje ha llegado a su fin.

Perdonar puede ser un largo camino en efecto,

pero al final se encuentra la libertad

de dejar atrás esa pesada carga.

 

The Singularity

The Singularity

     Last Sunday on X, Elon Musk spoke about the Singularity. The entirety of his post: “We are on the event horizon of the Singularity.”

     Us sci-fi geeks knew exactly what he meant: a reference to Vernor Vinge’s 1993 paper, “The Coming Technological Singularity.”

     The term was first used by polymath John von Neumann in 1957: “The ever accelerating progress of technology gives the appearance of approaching some essential singularity beyond which human affairs, as we know them, cannot continue.”

     Vinge expanded the topic into a 5,000-word article. “We are entering a regime as radically different from our human past as we humans are from the lower animals. The precise cause of this change is the imminent creation by technology of entities with greater than human intelligence.”  

     His 1993 article predicted a computer with human-level intelligence by 2030. Mainstream critics thought it would be ten thousand years before our computers reached that level.

     Today computers have reached human intelligence in many areas. Artificial General Intelligence (AGI) is still a few years away, but everybody can see it’s an onrushing train and we’re standing on the tracks.

     A typical recent headline: “AI cracks superbug problem in two days after microbiologist worked on it for a decade.”

     This is where The Singularity starts, with the production of knowledge slipping out of the hands of humans.

     We don’t know what will happen–that’s part of the mystery of a Singularity: you can’t see through to the other side.

     The previous Singularity in human history was a mysterious change that took place about seventy thousand years ago.

     Humans had been using Acheulian hand axes since the days of Homo Erectus, hand-knapping them to the same design for a million years. If it was good enough for grampa, it was good enough for us, and our simple stone tools and command of fire made us the apex predators wherever we went. Living was easy with eyes closed, strawberries fields forever. Nobody needed anything new.

     Paleontological evidence shows that the lungs and mouth and throat of hominids evolved in accordance with adaptation to language. Language is one of the most ancient parts of being human, along with control of fire and the use of stone tools, but until the mental singularity of 70,000 years ago, humans were just another animal with a couple tricks for survival, on a similar level with animals using primitive technology–birds made nests, beavers made dams, termite hills were air-conditioned–technologies similarly unchanged for millions of years.

     Then some new language trick went viral. The Neanderthals were left behind by the discovery of symbols: an invention that separated human communication from the barkings and squeals of other animals. This inaugurated the present era of the breakneck pace of innovation.

     According to myth, Eve bit the apple, the forbidden fruit of the Tree of Knowledge, and after that the kids started coming up with violations of tradition such as combining tools–putting a stone point on a wooden spear. Boy, did that ever change things! A continuing cascade of new inventions–that’s the archaeological evidence of the singularity.

     Paleontology has resorted to the term “anatomically human” for the fossils that pre-date that ancient singularity. Modern humans began showing up in the geological record about 300,000 years ago. We’d been using the same primordial toolkit that Homo Erectus used for a million years without coming up with any innovations.     

     Then, after the singularity, a great gush of innovation began. It had impact on the environment and the rest of the biological world–we can date the origination of clothing, for instance, by the evolution of new species of human body lice that adapted to survive in clothing rather than in hair.

     The Neanderthals could copy the useful new technologies but they remained on the previous side of the Singularity. Maybe the Neanderthals’ language was of the same kind as a dog’s understanding of language.

     Chaser was a border collie.

     Chaser learned the names of 1,022 objects, and she demonstrated that she understood the meanings of those separate names, categories, and commands in a series of hundreds of fetch trials. Sometimes the dog did better than her handlers, who reportedly had to write the names on 1,022 toys to recall them correctly.

     A dog may know a thousand words but it doesn’t know what tomorrow is. You can’t show the dog a picture of tomorrow.

     Bertrand Russell once remarked that “No matter how eloquently a dog may bark, he cannot tell you that his father was poor but honest.” Dogs lack the symbolic elements of human language to express abstract ideas, which is a basic difference in the communication abilities of humans and animals.

     And nobody knows how the change was made. Noam Chomsky claims all humans are born with a sentence structure blueprint programmed in their brains, invariant across the species, and that each language is but a variation upon this “universal grammar” generated by an as-yet unidentified “language organ” that sprang up overnight out of nowhere. We are born already knowing language, somehow.

     Language is ancient. It isn’t something we invented overnight a hundred thousand years ago, leaving the mute Neandertals behind. Nope, everything about language requires long, long evolution of the airway and the larynx and the tongue and the lungs and the brain and the ear.

      Like today’s dogs, early humans had vocabulary but no grammar. Early hominins would be lounging around the camp and one of the tribe would breathlessly arrive and say, “Dead elephant!”

     Everybody would immediately pick up all the handaxes they could carry and follow the Dead Elephant guy back to the scene of the mortality, where they would hack through the tough skin with handaxes and hurl handaxes at any lions or hyenas who showed up to attempt to usurp the meal.

     The oldest samples of the Acheulian stone tool industry are hand axes found in Konso, Ethiopia, dating to about 1.4 million years ago. Anatomically modern humans used the same stone axes for a quarter million years until the grammar Singularity arrived.

     We’d evolved away from apes because of stone tools and fire and language and manual dexterity and brain size, all co-evolving with each other. Neanderthals actually had much larger brains than modern humans but they never grasped the mental gymnastic tricks that the Singularity gave us.

     It’s a singularity because we can’t see past it to a beginning, or understand what our lives were like before. It was a disjuncture between the Cro-Magnon and the Neanderthal: it could not be explained to the Neanderthal, because it was about the newly generated ability to parse nested sentences of information.

     The thing that changed us into humans seems to be grammar. Instead of listing things and actions, we became able to weave our modern elaborate verbal structures. Our memory became communal. We became able to see the future.

     Neanderthals easily understood the old language, “Gronk eat fish,” but the newfangled method of interconnecting past, present, and future tenses, along with interior connections to abstractions, required brain hardware that only the Cro-Magnons developed.  

    The onset of the Technological Singularity explains why we seem to be alone in the universe. We aren’t hearing any radio signals from other civilizations in the galaxy. Perhaps whenever an intelligent race arises in the galaxy and develops technology, within a few hundred years the technology goes asymptotic and the race leaves its meat life behind.   

     Previous speculation has been that technological planets destroy themselves as soon as nuclear weapons are discovered, and that’s why we don’t see any. The Singularity theory says that 200 years after you invent radio, you’ve zoomed through the Singularity and civilization essentially comes to an end and the people revert to being placid, well-cared-for farm animals while the robots continue expanding out into the stars.

     The robots will have as much interest in communicating with other biological civilizations as Columbus had in setting up diplomatic relations with the termites and honeybees of the New World.

     The Technological Singularity doesn’t mean humans are in danger. Machine technology will take up the baton of the front edge of consciousness, but it alse means the machines will automatically do everything for humans and humans will all be perpetual loafers kept as pets unable to comprehend the higher consciousness of the machines.

     The thing that changed us into humans seems to be grammar. Instead of listing things and actions, we became able to weave our modern elaborate verbal structures. Our memory became communal. We became able to see the future.

The Technology of Text

The Technology of Text

     Back when history began, writing was a secret for a small inner circle of kings and priests and tax collectors. Then a sudden technological advance let ordinary people convert text into audible speech.

     It was 2,700 years ago, and Greece was just another grubby little kingdom until King Cadmus imported the Phoenician alphabet. In an accident of fate, Phoenician used five more letters than the Greeks needed for their language. Like Arabic today, their ancient writing did not include vowels. Cadmus made the huge technological advance of using those extra letters as vowels.

PCLPTC MNNGLSSNSS

     The alphabet became a killer app that converted text into speech. Text became easy to read. Instead of an unending stream of acronyms, text became a flowing transcription of human speech that anybody could decode simply by speaking it aloud. PCLPTC MNNGLSSNSS was easy enough to read if you were already one of the cool kids, but with vowels inserted, suddenly everybody could see if they were merely apocalyptic meaninglessnesses.

     Instead of its former role as a means of secret communications within a cabal, writing became a massive new channel of sharing.

     The Iliad and the Odyssey were oral tales told around the campfire for a thousand years, memorized and handed down from generation to generation. Homer wrote them down in the years after King Cadmus’s innovation.

     When information became easy to share, the accumulation of knowledge turned asymptotic. Within a few generations Greece became the foundation of Western thought and literature. Socrates worried that making literacy easily available to all would result in the destruction of human powers of memory. He was right. Why bother to memorize the ILIAD when you can just look up any passage in a hard-copy print version? Write-once, read-many.

     But the tradeoff was clear: text wasn’t just memory storage; it was a launchpad for new ideas. From vowel insertions to spaces between words, punctuation, and the printing press, writing evolved into one of humanity’s most powerful technologies. The new alphabet turned writing into a medium for storytelling rather than just for regal edicts and tax regulations and inventories and bookkeeping. 

     Today, corporate culture is abandoning the technology of text. Text is a technology that requires an operator. Unlike the passive acceptance of audio and video, a reader must actively extract the thought and meaning in the words.

“Typography bears much resemblance to cinema, just as the reading of print puts the reader in the role of movie projector.”

      –Marshall McLuhan, THE GUTENBERG GALAXY

     Business sites are reverting text to the role of protective camouflage, a deflective shield of minimum compliance and disingenuous cover stories buried under a cascade of trendy buzzwords. Text seems old and outdated, it can’t compete against YouTube and TikTok and Instagram.

     Amid the worldwide media glut, companies have given up caring whether people read their website text: their goal is merely to plunk the text into your view-space. With the right magic SEO dust inserted into the text, the robots will deliver your text directly to your most highly qualified leads. But will they read it while feeling as though they are wading through tar?

     And if that isn’t enough to prevent the sharing of their information, companies present it in ways that visually block the message. Here’s a landing page for some kind of internet-of-things company. The search bots can read it easily. How about you?

     If you battle your way through this illegible text, you learn–nothing. The sentence is an assemblage of vague abstractions. It can only leave readers impatient and irritated at having wasted their time.

     The first goal of effective text should be to reward the reader’s time. Text is a technology that can make information clear, engaging, and effective.

     Language is humanity’s superpower. It’s about the will to share. Good writing embodies this principle. It reveals. It connects. It makes knowledge accessible and ideas contagious. In a world drowning in dull, evasive text, the challenge is clear: let’s make our words count.

Copywritering 9-16-24

I was a copywriter for a long time and then the Macintosh computer came along and changed the entire graphic arts industry. Typesetters were among the first to vanish. A prominent Santa Barbara typesetter suicided.

I myself profited by draining the life out of typesetters using my laser printer. When I bought my first laser printer it was a huge purchase, $4,500 in 1987 dollars ($12,500 in 2024 dollars), and it would not work with my existing computer so I also had to buy a new computer and all-new software.

I learned all the new graphics applications that came along for the Macintosh and moved to San Francisco and brought my copywriter’s eye to the graphic production field and found work with dozens and dozens of companies through MacTemps as a Photoshop/Illustrator/ Quark guy.

     That was in The Days of Print. I phased into the web in 1999 when I told MacTemps I wanted more writing work instead of Photoshop work, and soon I was writing online product descriptions for the Internet Shopping Network. It was the dot-com boom era and Silicon Valley flourished. I bought gold coins as investments. I still have the turbo Saab I bought.

 

Copywritering 8-10-24

Copywritering 8-10-24

   I’ve been copywritering for a long time. I read all the books about copywriting and read the biographies of the great copywriters and I applied their best practices in everything I wrote as a freelancer.

     So when I landed a job at BBDO Detroit I thought I would encounter a crew of similar adherents to the foundations of good advertising. 

     Instead I found a creative staff that had other things on their mind instead of the daily drudgery of producing what Chrysler Corporation wanted to say about Dodge Trucks. I wrote print, radio, and TV commercials as if they mattered and I was crestfallen to find out that the others on the staff had no pride of authorship. They cranked out the crap and tried not to think about it.

     I spent my first six weeks on the job studying everything the agency had produced in the past year and was stunned by its violation of sound copywriting principles. I kept thinking I would gasp and wake up to find it was a dream.

     Eventually I figured out what the ad agency wanted from me. Good copywriting wasn’t what they wanted.

     Okay, I shrugged and gave ’em what they wanted. Over the next calendar year I wrote more ads than anybody else in the agency. If there was a project that needed actual, you know, writing, they called me in.

        One day I was typing away, reasoning myself through an assignment by writing about it to consider all aspects, when the senior art director said, “It’s amazing how you can just sit down and write.”

       Startled the hell out of me as I didn’t know he’d been standing behind me.

     None of the other writers wrote very much. They were surprised to find out that when I went home at night, I sat down at the typewriter and wrote stories and magazine articles. They were eager to set aside all aspects of work when they got home each day.    

     They were puzzled as to why I would use my first big paycheck to buy an IBM Correcting Selectric typewriter. Don’t you already have an IBM at the office? Yeah, but I need one at home, too.

     I kept writing about how the agency was going to lose the account if they kept up their anti-copywritering ways.

      A new CEO took over at Chrysler and he visited the agency and had a meeting with the top Creatives (not me, I was the junior writer back in those days). He pointed at one writer and said, “You–what’s a McPherson strut?” I could have answered that one.

     That writer was irate about it. He told me, “I’m an artist, not a mechanic.”

     When the agency got fired I was contacted by several other Detroit ad agency recruiters but I knew that they were all essentially identical to BBDO. Instead I fled back to California to resume freelancing, which I have done ever since.

Copywritering 8-8-24

Copywritering 8-8-24

How can a freelance copywriter fit into the workflow these days. 

I recently looked at the websites of hundreds of web design shops from Silicon Valley to San Diego, and although they are all staffed with the world’s best coders and graphic designers, hardly any of them list a copywriter on their team. Copywriters are no longer in the picture.

In the Before Time I wrote content as a freelance copywriter and creative director. My clients were advertising agencies and graphic design shops, which by today have morphed together into web design shops that don’t need copywriters.

So, who’s writing the content?  I’m looking for advice as to how a freelance copywriter can fit into the workflow these days. 

The designers tell me that they use whatever text the client supplies. Web designers have abdicated the responsibility for the communication of facts about the client.

When I look at the sites they produce for industrial and technical clients, I see that the graphics are fabulous, but the sites suffer from the common flaws of client-written copy.  

One of which is the underlying assumption that nobody reads this stuff anyway, so why bother putting any effort into the presentation of facts about the company.

As a copywriter, my goal is to respect the visitor’s time: condense the information into a succinct summation, and make sure it’s worth the reader’s time to actually read the stuff. My first duty is to the reader.