“The speed of dark is really fast but disappears completely in the speed of light!”…G

“Since the speed of light is 186,000 miles per second (if memory serves–I got into UCSD but didn’t get out, if you know what I mean) I would have to imagine that the speed of dark is the same. If you turn on a flashlight the light goes out just as fast as it would stop. Actually, that made my brain hurt. I think I’ll take a nap.”…SK

“The speed of dark would be at the same rate of speed the last ray of light passes an object or (if we were talking about turning off a lamp in a room) at the speed of the last ray of light hitting the wall. Dark trails behind light at the exact same rate. Therefore my answer to the question of what is the speed of dark would be: 299,792,458 meters per second. Do I win a prize?”…JF

So, Deep Thinkers, send me your answer to the  question “What is the Speed of Dark?”   tj@tjknowles.com

My prayer is that we as citizens, brothers and sisters, and God’s children, find a way back to common ground.

In 1624, John Donne wrote, “No man is an island, entire of itself…any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind.”

May your Easter be profoundly moving, and may we all move with common purpose, direction and intensity.

It is a great way to start the day, in spite of the fact that “Too much caffeine can…
-Overstimulate your central nervous system, leading to an increase in heart rate and blood pressure.
-Affect energy levels. Following an initial energy boost, your energy plummets because of resulting low blood-sugar levels.
-Decrease bone density, putting you at risk of the bone-wasting disease, osteoporosis.
-Inhibit absorption of essential vitamins and minerals, such as calcium and iron. Taking a vitamin supplement with a cup of coffee or tea, for example, can render it useless.
-Irritate the lining of your stomach and oesophagus, causing indigestion, ulcers and digestive problems.
-Aggravate PMS and menopause symptoms, such as fluid retention, breast tenderness and hot flushes.
-Cause headaches, including the triggering of migraines in some sufferers. It can also cause insomnia.”*

I don’t care. I love my cappuccino.

*hideous caffeine facts provided by  Marius Bezuidenhout

Reprinted from SHOOT ONLINE March 29, 2002
by TJ Knowles

I found this article I wrote in 2002 published in Shoot Online, an advertising agency trade magazine.  It describes the demise of the jingle business resulting from the outsourcing of responsibility and risk.

These are trying times in the commercial music biz. There are fewer fun units and the jitter level has hit an all-time high. But in spite of tremendous competition for work, shrinking budgets, and a plethora of library and popular music available to license, one directive is clear for creatives and producers: You must maintain your composer.

Remember Amadeus? This was the movie set in the days when court composers were retained by kings. Even in those hard times, the value of original musical composition was recognized and preserved. Court composers were not house pets—it was often a dangerous profession. One bad review could land the composer in a Holiday Inn at happy hour.

You may be aware that the music industry is in the toilet. For the first time, blank, recordable CDs have outsold albums. Music from early in the last century captured the Grammys, now referred to as the Grannys. When art becomes nothing but a commodity, art suffers. The Big Music Guys hold the power of distribution, and with that power comes the obligation to cultivate and distribute music that invigorates the public and inspires new artistic talent. They have dropped the ball on their own feet and are feeling the pain.

Perhaps this is why commercial music has become a popular genre unto itself. Original-music shops are greenhouses of experimental music and sound. Without these little laboratories, we in the commercial business, too, will be limited to spoon-feeding playlist pap to those we hope to attract.

Music is perhaps the most subjective and risky element in the commercial process. Over time we have been carefully eliminating risk from the entire production process. We are becoming risk managers. We have all left advertising to join the insurance industry.

Scrape together a demo bud-get and pitch original music to your clients. Answer your phones when a music house calls. Circulate original-music reels. Become aware of the incredible array of musical talent ready to knock your socks off. The pick is on the string, so to speak.

So do something original. Only then will you be able to maintain your composer.

“A ship is safe in harbor, but that’s not what ships are for.”  William Shedd

On the most beautiful day of the year I looked out at the vast number of boats in the harbor marinas, and I marveled at how few of these boats actually ever go anywhere. What keeps them in the slip? So much potential, so much horsepower….just sitting there. All it takes is a flip of the switch, a little fuel and spark, or a sail, and the whole world of possibilities and adventure opens up.

But there they sit- beautiful, but still.

It occurred to me that each of us is like a boat in the marina. We say we want a full, rich life, but, as Captain of our boat, fear makes it hard for us to turn the key or raise the sail. It takes courage to release our dock lines and leave the safety of the slip. But whenever we do, we can choose our course and speed.

“The best thing for being sad,” replied Merlin, beginning to puff and blow, “is to learn something. That’s the only thing that never fails. You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world about you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honour trampled in the sewers of baser minds. There is only one thing for it then—to learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting. Learning is the only thing for you. Look what a lot of things there are to learn.”        —T.H. White, The Once and Future King

On Monday I took my Toyota Matrix (best car I’ve ever had-except for my 1930 Model A) to a guy who is one of the most intelligent, practical and highly skilled men I have ever known. He works as a handyman, but his experience and expertise as a mechanic, expert welder, and all-around construction problem-solver are a constant amazement to me.

He completed some major brake work and electrical repair, gave me great advice and sent me on my way with an invoice that would have been triple at any Dealer service.

During our conversation, he said he was concerned about the economy and his workload.

It occurred to me-and I told him, that he was mistaken- that he was sitting in the catbird seat and would thrive in this dismal economy because he actually KNOWS HOW TO DO THINGS. And the things he knows how to do are a staple in today’s world.

In some ways, the cliff-diving our economy has been doing is a blessing- we are getting the big wake-up call to see that we have become a nation of consumers- not producers. We have invented 200 names for money, and none of them is worth a tinker’s dam now.

We are clever manipulators of information, which translates into zippo-nada-zero in a world in which Substance now rises from the ashes like the mythical Phoenix, devouring the pathetic, paper-pushing and digital house of cards we have been referring to for years as an “unstoppable” economy.

It is still a real world. Tools, hard work, physical labor, self-reliance  and pride will be the honorable watchwords of the day.

I watch Ken as he struggles with my car’s serpentine belt that fights him for control.

Ken will win.

I hate to waste anyone’s time and I especially dislike having my time wasted.

This all stems from a life-altering experience I had as a young 2nd Lieutenant in the Army in 1974, while stationed at Schofield Barracks, Hawaii.

I come from a military family. My Dad flew dive bombers during WWII in the South Pacific and served two tours in Viet Nam, commanding a Dust-Off air ambulance (MEDEVAC) unit. We moved 32 times before I graduated from high school. I attended four high schools in three states. This perhaps accounts for my attenuated attention span, which is about 30 seconds.

So, with my background, I was feeling fairly experienced and comfortable in my new military environment. Never get too comfortable….

The Commanding General, 25th Infantry Division, sent a letter to all of us newbie junior officers requiring our presence at a Command briefing in the War Room. Viet Nam was still happening, and this was to be a very serious and impressive event for us. The entire Command Staff and top brass, some who flew in from the mainland, would be attending.

I looked at the date and time  and location, but I did not bother to mark the address. I knew where the building was located. I had seen the big sign in front.

So five minutes prior to the start of the briefing I waltzed up to the door and discovered that the building was empty and the door locked. Have you ever had that sickening, sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach that tells you your life is over?

A Captain passed by and saw me standing in obvious shock.  Apparently, the HQ had been moved but the sign was left in place. The actual location of the Briefing was a solid mile down the road!

Hawaii in late Summer can be very warm.

In full fatigues and combat boots, I ran the entire distance in record time (for me) with sweat leaping from my forehead and my heart pounding from fear, humiliation and the certainty that I had missed this very, very  important Command Performance. My military upbringing was of no use to me now. I was in full panic mode as I arrived at the Briefing Hall.

Red-faced and breathing heavily, I walked inside and beheld two very large wooden doors. The doors were closed, of course. The briefing was underway and 2nd LT Knowles was in deep kimche. In front of the doors and behind a large wooden desk sat a skinny young Captain who never even looked up to see who I might be.  He already knew- he was in charge of attendance- and he made no effort to sooth my ruffled feathers.

He said, “You missed the Briefing, Lieutenant. Don’t even think of going in now!” (Translation: Your career is over before it even started!).

There was no way I was not going in there. I walked around him and slowly and gently opened the huge doors.

I cannot begin to describe the feeling I had as my eyes adjusted to the darkened room and the people and objects took shape. At the far end of the room, in front of a huge, back-lit wall map, stood the Commanding General, pointer in hand and discussing some strategic jungle location on the map. He stopped talking when he saw me and blinked, briefly, like an owl. This was obviously a new and totally amazing experience for him, too.

Directly in front of me was a long conference table surrounded by a variety of Generals, Admirals, and lesser staff, seated in order of importance. When the Commanding General stopped, they turned to stare at the hapless idiot who had stumbled into the wrong room, perhaps??

Along either side of this long narrow room were seated more staff and more brass. I looked hungrily for an empty chair to end my torment. My heart skipped a beat when I noticed my Company Commander- my Boss- along the right wall with an EMPTY SEAT next to him! I moved quickly to the chair and sat down.

And still the Commanding General stared at me in disbelief. Why didn’t he just get on with it? What more could I do? Get back to your pointing and briefing!

My Boss, a LT. Colonel and an All American QB from Notre Dame, covered his mouth with his hand,leaned toward me and said, “Uh, Knowles, you are sitting in the General’s seat!”

it was then that I noticed, across the room, all my fellow junior officers, squirming like a gaggle of geese, grinning and loving every second of my misfortune. My empty, assigned seat beckoned me and I leaped out of the General’s chair, quickly crossed the room and, humiliation complete, sat down with a sigh that sounded something like a deflating birthday balloon dropping slowly from the ceiling. I kept my eyes down and waited for life to either end or proceed.

Finally, in the eternity of that moment, the Commanding General spoke to me. “Lieutenant,… with your permission,… may we continue?”

“Oh, please, go right ahead, General,” I blurted..

It was over. I was the talk of the town for weeks.

So if you ask me why I am so serious about being on time, about being prepared, and about planning ahead, I trace it all back to this one event, forever seared into my heart and mind.

So, with your permission…..lets continue.

The digital world pushes us further away from each other as living, breathing individuals and converts our personalities to one-dimensional “faces.” We can present the exact face we want the world to see, and it may or may not be accurate.

The art of communication is eroding- replaced by a strange protective shell that shields the individual from any conflict or interaction that may generate emotional risk.

As more of our existence and daily work moves online, the more we see changes in how business is conducted. The boutique hardware store has perished in the wake of a newly-built Home Depot. Yet everything at Home Depot is now available online.

Man has always sought escape from harsh reality, but to live full-time in a virtual reality, free of conflict and full of sensory stimulation, without any need for personal contact with other human beings, controlled by The State (gotta watch the movie, Sleeper, with Woody Allen) is not a future that I find appealing.

As technology and the insidious virus we call “information” take over more and more of our daily affairs, the Art of Selling seems to be heading down the road of obsolescence. Who will need to know the value of looking someone straight in the eye without flinching? Why bother teaching body language or nuanced mannerisms? Who will care about cultural and language differences?

Eventually, when it all boil down to texting, we will truly be only as good as our words.

Most people are easily defeated by the sheer weight of all the details and actions required to launch or re-direct a business (or personal goal). It is the everyday NOW that presents the biggest obstacle.

You wake up in action mode, ready to take on the world. Then you get blindsided by a comment, an emotion, a distraction. You cannot seem to get refocused and you drown in the flood of muddy thoughts created by NOW. So you put off the action until tomorrow, but it is not really procrastination. It is simply the result of being overwhelmed by NOW.

Deep, huh?

In eighth grade I had metal shop, but that’s another story..

The girls had home economics (Home Ec) which focused on sewing and cooking.

There was also vocational training and auto shop for those who just didn’t fit in to the normal pattern, although these kids were usually very bright.

Anyway, the point is that in addition to math and English and physical education, we were exposed to these specialty classes that taught skill sets that required technique.

Great confidence comes from working with your hands and operating machinery that scares you to death, or from pedaling a sewing machine that can drive a needle through your thumb, or torching yourself on an oven burner. The memory of these activities stays with you for life.

Today, what lies under the hood of a car is a great mystery- even to experienced mechanics.

Our kids will need to be able to do more than text message and check email if they are to build successful lives. Where are the hands-on skill sets being taught?