Dan Cullum

I remember my immediate reaction to reading James Joyce’s Dubliners.

I felt sad and despondent.

When I commented on it, Maru asked me, “Isn’t that what Joyce was trying to do? To make you feel an emotion about a certain time and place in history?”

It helped me take a step back and see literature, art, and music, in a new light.

Sometimes the sadness, the grief, or the discomfort, is exactly what the artist wanted the world to hear.

I love working to music, but I struggle to work to music with lyrics. Music with lyrics wreaks havoc on my ability to write, so I listen to instrumentals instead.

I came across a few Spotify playlists that had pop song instrumentals, and the moment I heard the music, my mind immediately started to populate the instrumentals with the melodies and lyrics. It was almost as if I was listening to the actual song.

For me, this was a lesson in emotion and groove. Sometimes a piece of music can be so memorable that all it takes is a small reminder for the mind to fill in all the gaps.

What a feat to create art, write prose, or compose music that evokes such a reaction.

Over the past few days, I’ve come across some striking examples of how technology is improving our understanding of the natural world.

In particular, I was astounded by Curiosity Rover’s 1 billion pixel image of the surface of Mars; the highest resolution photo of the red planet to date.

You can see craters, mountain ranges, cliffs, and where a lake existed billions of years ago. It almost made me feel like I was looking at a desert landscape on Earth, and that Mars wasn’t so far away after all.

I also enjoyed understanding this unique “Turtle Census”, where scientists put non-permanent white paint on the back of 2,000 green sea turtles, and use drones to capture images of the turtles out at sea. Scientists are able to use the ratio of painted to non-painted turtles to determine the size and health of the turtle populations.

Nothing else today, just some fun things I’ve been enjoying!

When you have something important to say, how much time do you spend thinking about what you want to say?

If you’re like me, the answer is probably, “Most of it.”

I recently found myself in a situation where what I wanted to say was important, but I should’ve also thought about:

Why do I need to say it?

When is the best time to say it?

How should I say it?

To whom am I speaking?

It’s easy to forget that what we want to say is often only the first part of the equation.

The magic is not in what you add, but in what you take away.

This is true for the presentation, the song, the speech, the scene, and the post. There’ll always be the temptation to add more.

But the message—the most important thing—has the best chance of shining when the clutter is removed.

It’s inspiring to see the movement in the UK petitioning the removal of statues that glorify slave traders and colonialists.

I hope we look back and wonder, “How did we ever let these statues stand for so long?”

It’s easy to assume that those memorialised in statues did good for the world, but it’s a fragile illusion. We don’t need to look far to find despicable deeds behind some of those statues.

Take Edward Colston, for example, a man who forcibly ripped 100,000 people from their home, the African continent, to sell them in the Americas. I cannot imagine the immeasurable pain he inflicted on their families and descendants. Yet, his statue was allowed to stand in a place of pride in Bristol for 125 years before it was torn down and thrown into the harbour this weekend.

Removing these statues is just the beginning, though. It’s the first step in a process to look back at history, analyse the actions of those that came before us, and remove from places of honour those that don’t deserve to stand as symbols of a fair, just, and honourable society.

How much of our daily lives, meetings, moments, chores, or tasks, could be made better by simply deciding to have fun?

Some would call it naive, but the mind has an extraordinary ability to turn bad situations around.

We just need to let it.

The winners of the World Photography Awards were announced today.

With over 345,000 images submitted, it’s amazing to have immediate access to the works of all the winning photographers.

What I find amazing is the level of depth each winning photo has. A close look into each photo reveals emotions, stories, and moments captured so delicately and deliberately.

One in particular that stood out is called ‘Hurry’. It’s a photo of a street performer that looks like they’re in a hurried motion, but they’re actually completely still. A unique piece of commentary on our hectic, hustling lives.

Another is ‘Seeds of Resistance’, which is a stunning depiction of the landscapes at risk from mining and agribusiness, alongside portraits of the activists trying to protect them.

Take a look and enjoy!

New Zealand has hit a huge milestone: zero active COVID cases.

New Zealander’s are no longer required to practise social distancing. Life returns to normal, apart from border restrictions.

The government response was swift, and was a masterclass in effective communication.

Strategies like the 4 Level Alert System, and the “Team of 5 million” language ensured the vast majority of citizens adhered to the rules of the lockdown.

New Zealand is now turning its focus to economic recovery.

A recession is almost guaranteed, so much buying locally produced goods and supporting the tourism industry by “seeing your own backyard,” is heavily encouraged right now.

With London being one of the hardest hit spots, it’s hard not to miss home right now. But it doesn’t stop me from being extremely proud of my little, island nation.

Whenever we think it’s finished, there’s always something more that can be done.

The superficial perfection trap is easy to fall into, as there will always be another sentence to edit, brushstroke to add, or presentation to practice.

I’m grateful that daily blogging has helped me become comfortable with the blemishes.

Some days, what’s on the page feels right. Other days, I have to accept the words staring back at me are all I could muster. But whatever I’ve produced today must be good enough. There are no excuses or exceptions.

Comically, there’s an inverse correlation between the posts I expect to resonate and the ones that actually do. And so what really matters at the end of each day is facing the monster of superficial perfection, and sending what I have out the door.

After all, there’s tomorrow.

Meatballs are IKEA’s most sold item.

Not the bookshelves. Not the sofas. Not the tables.

But the meatballs.

It even outsells the famous Billy Bookcase; which can be found in almost every university flat.

However, the meatballs are just the flag bearer of a really intelligent price positioning strategy.

IKEA knows you don’t know how much a dining table should cost. Should it be $400, $600, or $800? But you definitely know how much you should pay for a plate of meatballs.

IKEA sells quality food at a loss. They do this to plant the idea in consumers’ minds that, “IKEA is good value.”

So when shoppers eventually get to that dining table, they’re willing to spend more because, “It must be a good price if it’s from IKEA, right?”

Furthermore, when consumers are fed and content, they’re also willing to spend more time in the store. And more time equates to a few more things in the cart.

Hopefully this serves as a fascinating thought to ponder the next time you head to the Blue and Yellow Monster.

Being the fastest in the class was a badge of honour when I was 6 years old.

Reflecting on it now, I smile and laugh.

The funny thing is that as we get older, the running race just gets bigger, and they’re no longer literal, but figurative.
Although we know being the fastest in the metaphorical class isn’t important, it’s still easy to justify the rat race. But we also control when we call it quits.

I was doing it all wrong.

I used to buy those basil plants from the supermarket—the ones that come in the little pots.

I watered them regularly and thought I was doing everything right.

But they kept dying.

I convinced myself that supermarket basil plants just don’t live for very long.

However, I then learnt you have to wait until the basil leaves are wilting and drooping before you water them, and after that they’ll spring back to life and continue to grow.

My little basil plant in the kitchen is now 3 months old, and twice its original size.

It’s easy to do the same thing over and over and complain about the lack of results, but maybe instead we should go in search of that one piece of information that changes the game.

Callimachus wrote a beautiful poem in circa. 250 B.C. upon learning of the death of his friend, Heraclitus.

You can find the complete and excellent translation by William Cory here, but one line—in particular—gets me every time.

I wept as I remember’d how often you and I had tired the sun with talking and sent him down the sky.

Since discovering this poem in 2014, I have yet to find another description of friendship that has moved me as deeply.

I hope it inspires you today.

I watched in awe at the live stream of Crew Dragon lifting off from Launch Pad 39A at NASA’s Kennedy Space Center in Cape Canaveral, Florida.

Last Saturday was the first time a private company sent humans into space. This alone is an astonishing fact which could fill a blog post, but today I’m going to focus on one of Elon’s statements before launch.

“I’m the chief engineer of this thing, so I’d just like to say that if it goes right, it’s credit to the SpaceX-NASA team. If it goes wrong, it’s my fault.”

I love this quote, and here’s why:

1. He made it public. Elon didn’t just think it, or say it in private, he publicly admitted that success would be because of the team, and failure would be his alone to bear.
2. He took accountability before the event occurred. It’s easy for leaders to hope for the best, and respond after the event—to claim glory in success, or deflect responsibility in failure.
3. He deferred credit, and accepted all risk.This equation is rarely seen in business or leadership.
4. He spoke plainly and clearly. There was no, “We’re taking all precautions and successful mission completion will be due to a vast array of talented people, and we’ve minimised the risk of failure through blah blah blah.” No, he just said, “If things go right, the team gets credit. If it goes wrong, it’s on me.”

Believe it or not, I don’t usually go gaga for Elon.

He’s a polarising leader whose missteps and tweets have wiped billions of dollars of value off his companies, but this moment on Saturday was true leadership.

For all the bluster and talk, he backs it up. He led the first launch of humans into space by a private company and was the Chief Designer on the project.

But in addition to the technical and commercial brilliance required to pull off such a feat, he also took massive ownership.

And I love that.