Something Out of Nothing

Maura and I had a wonderful twentieth anniversary day in town this year - we both have a lot going on so we decided to delay any travel until things calm down a bit. We played hooky yesterday, taking the streetcar to the River Market to wander around. Our primary destination was one of our favorite places in the city - https://rivermarketantiquemall.com. Sometimes we don’t find anything we can’t live without, but yesterday we both found several potential treasures to bring home. We both decided on something from the same cabinet. She fell in love with a couple of Russian ceramic pieces, both of them a man and a woman wearing brightly colored clothes and holding little dogs. They reminder her of pieces we’ve seen at the Museum of International Folk Art in Santa Fe. She had a hard time deciding on one couple so I told her to get both; she didn’t argue. I found four little books by one of my favorite artists, Peter Max and Swami Sivananda. Published in 1970 by William Morrow & Co., Inc. They are simply beautiful books with writing by Sivananda on one side and a complimentary Max illustration on the other. Here are the covers:

I think the book called “Thought” is my favorite. Maura and I had a little happy hour in the River Market at Brown and Loe and while we were waiting on our drinks and appetizer (the Baked Pimento Cheese — OMG), we both read though a couple of the books and I found myself getting chills and tearing up a little. These books, written in 1970, feel so timely right now considering everything going on in the world and in my life. It felt like the Universe giving me a gift. Here are a couple passages and the accompanying image:

Thoughts are bricks with which character is built. Character is not born. It is formed. Man’s thoughts are the architects of his circumstances.

Whatever you think is a boomerang. If you hate another, hate will come back to you. If you love others, love will come back to you. Therefore, understand the laws of thought. Raise only thought of mercy, love and kindness from your mind and be happy always.

I’ve been a fan of Peter Max’s psychedelic art for years. I fell in love with him when I first laid eyes on some posters my dad had hanging in his office at the music store he owned, the Music Box, in NKC, MO. I would spend hours contemplating his artwork. I definitely had favorites. The posters were from a poster book he produced in 1970 both in a softbound version and a limited edition, signed hardbound edition. My dad had removed many of them and hung them in the main office of the store, among other more crass, Xerox copied, cartoons that initially confused me (were they meant to be funny?) When I went away to college, after the store had shuttered, he gave me the posters, remembering how much I liked looking at them. I, of course, plastered my dorm room with them. I think I still have some of them, but they aren’t in very good shape at this point. I would love to find a copy of the poster book in good shape! I’m not sure what spoke to me in the illustrations initially, I loved the colors, the patterns, and the otherworldliness of them. My favorite, by far, was Cosmic Window:

The piece draws you in immediately; I love the sense of looking into another world, of escape, of a mystical world, ripe for exploration.

I didn’t even know these little meditative books existed, and yet, on the day we decided to skip out on our responsibilities and spend some quality time together, there they were, just waiting to be discovered. I’ve spent the last several months reinventing myself, exploring who I think I am versus who I want to be and working on the discrepancies. I’ve been realigning the course of my life. Some days it takes more effort than others; it feels like a giant ocean tanker with a wide steering radius. Other days feel easy and perfectly aligned with the Universe like the day Maura and I had together, several wonderful things happened that just continued to make our day. A woman at Brown and Loe came inside from the patio and just had to stop to tell us that she LOVED our style in a very genuine, humorous, self effacing way. It was nice to hear and kind of adorable. After we finished our dinner, the waitress brought us a small gift — a bottle of wine to take home with words and hearts written all over it to celebrate our anniversary. One more quote from Sivananda and occupying Max image, from the book “Love”:

There is no virtue higher than love; there is no treasure higher than love; there is no knowledge higher than love; there is no religion higher than love; there is no truth higher than love. My dear child of love, tread the path of love. This is your highest duty. You have taken this body to achieve love, which alone is the goal of life.

I know these aren’t new ideas, but we could really use them right now. There’s something meaningful about finding these books and holding them right now. T They are beautiful reminders from an artist who shaped how I see the world — words written fifty years ago that feel written specifically for right now. Maybe that’s what the Universe does when you’re paying attention.

What if consciousness didn’t originate with human awareness? What if it was always out there, in the Universe, and our evolution allowed us to receive it, to connect with it? Consciousness happens at the nexus of human awareness and the Universe.

I don’t know that this is true, but I find it to be a fascinating and beautiful idea and I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.

Recently, I had a quick chat with a friend I hadn’t seen in a while. After catching up on life, we started talking about this topic, which just happened to coincide with some of my recent thoughts. We’ve talked about deep ideas before, we both enjoy exploring ideas that might be considered a bit “out there” He knew I was open to it and love to talk about things like this but him bringing it up, when I had been doing my own exploration into these ideas felt meaningful and somehow fated to be — the Universe pushing us to explore further. The idea that our consciousness, our ideas and thoughts about ourselves are both bigger AND smaller than us is interesting to contemplate. I was a Philosophy major, and for good reason — I love to explore interesting ideas like this. The theory is that consciousness comes from outside from an external quantum field and our brains have evolved in such a way that we can recognize it and interact with it. We assume that it’s our own, that it comes from within our own minds. In reality, it’s both, existence comes from the external field and our brain’s interaction with it, and our interpretation of it.

I’ve always been a deep thinker (some might say over thinker). I like following the threads of topics that interest me and this one has come up in several different contexts lately, most recently when catching up with a good friend. I haven’t had the capacity to do this kind of mental exploration for a while; I was too busy managing systems and people (which I also enjoy) and solving more immediate problems. I enjoy having the luxury of sitting with ideas and questions that don’t necessarily have answers, that fascinate me for exactly that reason, they are unanswerable. I appreciate having the time and mental energy to sit with deeper, unsettled, sometimes unsettling questions again.

I do believe there’s an efficiency and elegance to our evolution, all of life’s evolution. As weird and messy as it can be in the short term, over the eons it somehow finds the best, most efficient way to exist in the world. Our brains are powerful information processors — a four pound lump of meat, astonishingly energy efficient, better than any computer we’ve built. Maybe that efficiency isn’t just clever biology. Maybe we’re not generating consciousness so much as tuning into it.

After the conversation yesterday, I brought up the topic with AI to help me process my thoughts on it a little further and it came up with a great quote towards the end of the conversation:

“We are talking about the nature of thought because, in a very real way, the universe is using both of us right now to try and understand itself.”

I don’t know if that’s true — it’s a grand anthropomorphism — but it’s a beautiful idea, and and the conversation with my friend felt like evidence of it. I’ve missed having the time and energy for this kind of thinking, exploration, and discovery. I’m learning to trust the Universe again, and to allow things to unfold as they will.

I went to the End of Semester Shows at KCAI last Friday, where the students have the opportunity to show what they’ve been working on all year and sell their art if they choose. It’s a fun event and, in my opinion, the culmination of everything that I did at KCAI — it’s one of the main reasons I worked there to facilitate the students’ creative endeavors. It’s also a great opportunity to not only support the students, but to score some affordable art from up and coming artists. We have a lot of KCAI alumni work in our house. In fact, every year for the past nineteen years, I’ve purchased my wife, Maura a piece of student artwork that reflects the anniversary gift for that year — our anniversary is at the end of May. It’s hard to believe that it’ll be twenty years in a couple of weeks!

I got to campus a little early and the buildings weren’t open yet. I instinctively reached for my ID to swipe so I could enter one of the buildings and realized that I no longer had access. I knew going to campus for the first time since my last day, now almost four months ago, would be tough. It was nice to see all the work and the students, staff, and faculty that night, but it was even harder than I expected. I was walking around realizing that I didn’t belong there anymore; I was no longer a part of the community. It took a lot of effort to keep going and not just walk back to my car to drive home. I’m glad I went, the shows were great and I faced the challenge and the next time I went back wouldn’t be as bad.

Last night there was a celebration/retirement party for Cary Esser, Ceramics faculty member for thirty years, alumnus, and chair of the department for many years. There were many faculty, staff, and former faulty and staff there to celebrate her — it was so great to see everyone. So many hugs, handshakes, wonderful comments, and promises to grab lunch/drinks soon. As I was chatting with folks, I realized that I do still belong. It’s not the place, it’s the community and I am still very much a part of it. Not in the same way, I don’t see most of those people as often as I used to, but I am still part of the wonderful Kansas City arts community. I drove home from KCAI tonight feeling lighter, even happier than I have been the last couple of months. I came home with something better than art — a renewed sense of belonging.

Maura and I went to see David Byrne last night at Starlight Theater for the fourth time — it was an amazing show, again. I’ve loved him since his Talking Heads days — ‘77 was my first album — I followed him when he started his solo career — I’ve loved his collaborations with other talented artists and musicians. He makes the mundane profound. My heart soared last night as we listened to each song — I was singing along and cheering the whole time. Because I am on a sort of sabbatical, I didn’t have the stress of the day to wash away, I was able to take in the music, the visuals, the crowd so much better. Live music is very much an escape from reality, a mini vacation, but it was less that for me yesterday, it was a different experience — I was much more present. I tend to get emotional at shows, but last night I was tearing up from the sheer joy of seeing David and his band celebrating life through music — they put themselves out there for the world to see. That kind of joy is contagious.

In high school I hung out with the geeks — misfits who were smart enough to be nerds, but most of us lacked the motivation. The one exception, a friend in physics class, was coding a fractal program on the one classroom computer while the rest of us suffered through the bad magic tricks and ukulele playing of a teacher desperate to keep our attention. He, myself, and another outcast friend were simply weird. We had similar senses of humor, quoting Monty Python and coming up with our own characters that would have been right at home on the show, often to very confused more mainstream classmates. We were all in band together where we were tolerated for our musical talents — I played tuba and sousaphone. I remember scratching off selected letters from a book we were reading in an English class “Giants in the Earth” by Ole Edvart Rølvaag to leave behind the revised title “ants in the Ear.” That one caught on with the whole class, much to the disappointment and frustration of the teacher.

We were smart, bored, and didn’t really fit in anywhere. I don’t even remember how the “cult” got started, but we decided to create something for ourselves, a group where we did belong. We called it the Silver Death Cult, probably because it sounded both mysterious and slightly frightening. There were two rules for entry into the organization:

• You had to stand on a young thistle plant (or devil weed as we called them — we HATED encountering them when mowing the lawn) for ten minutes without moving or flinching.

• You had to acquire an “I AM LOVED” button from a local Kansas City jewelry store without being seen by a sales person, take it to school and scrape off the paint to reveal the silver surface beneath during class time. Then wear the button as your badge of honor.

We three were the only members as our efforts to recruit were met with confusion and revulsion. Looking back now, maybe that was the point of the requirements — we created something for us and only us — to keep the world out and a place where we belonged. If you remember us, you probably remember us wrong. We were stranger than you knew, and prouder of it than we let on.

Before anyone asks, I do still have that button, so many years later. Maybe I should start wearing it again. I think I’ll skip the thistle standing now though.

I wrote a poem to commemorate this story

I love building with Lego. I have for most of my life. But I have a somewhat complicated relationship with Lego.

Growing up, my favorite set was the Lego Expert Builder Power Truck (set 8848 — thank you internet!) with a working steering wheel and truck bed which you could lift with a lever inside the cab. I would build it over and over, carefully following the instructions. I would also frequently take it apart to make things from my imagination. I remember well the flying ships with jets and lasers — sadly, I have no photos of these.

The strongest memory I have, sadly, is the time my dad came into my room, raging about something my brother and I did — I don’t remember what, just kids being kids — and threw me and the Legos I was playing with across the room, they scattered all over the room and the well designed box with compartments for each type of part was destroyed. I was shocked and hurt — both physically and emotionally. I was heartbroken and horrified for what had happened to my latest creation and for the box.

Jump forward a few years to just after my first marriage ended. I went a little crazy with the Lego Bionicles sets that had just been released. I probably should have been focusing on putting my life back together, but maybe that’s exactly what I was doing. I had lost myself in that marriage — I became someone who I didn’t recognize and wasn’t happy with. I gave up too much of myself. Building those ridiculous robots gave me something I could control, something I could build with my hands that worked exactly the way they were supposed to. Piece by piece. I was rebuilding something. It wasn’t just the Legos.

These days, I love building all sorts of sets and I love to display the sets I’ve collected and built. Maura and I also like to go to the used brick stores in town to buy bulk bricks — I like to build abstract sculptures and strange looking iPhone stands with them. I love the place it takes me, both when I’m following the step by step instructions, and when I’m free building the sculptures. Sometimes I get a little impatient when building by instructions, I’m anxious to get to the next step and anxious to see the finished product. When I’m free building I go into that other place, tapping into my creativity like the kid who built those weird little spaceships. It’s a fun place to escape to for a while.

Lego has become something new — not just an escape, but a way to connect. Maura and I build together, sometimes following instructions, sometimes just seeing what emerges from a pile of bricks. We’ve even had building sessions with friends. There’s something that happens when adults sit down and play with Lego — the potential awkwardness of adults playing with childish things together falls away and you meet each other at a different level. Childlike, unhurried, creative. It turns out that’s a pretty good place to connect from.

Lego has been there for me at some major turning points in my life. After my dad’s rage. After my first marriage ended. During the harder stretches of a long career. There’s something about the act of making something — anything — that reminds me that things can be put back together. And the shared joy of building, connecting — literally — over building blocks, is a wonderful place to be.

You don’t always need the instructions. You just need the bricks.

My wife Maura and I recently went to visit a good friend in a nearby town, about 45 minutes away. As we drove out of our neighborhood, she commented on a house that’s being built. She said, “Moving right along”, which triggered a song in my head “Moving Right Along” by Kermit and Fozzy of The Muppets. Since we were on the road, I thought it would be a great time to listen to the original Muppet Move Soundtrack. It’s such a great, upbeat and positive soundtrack and I love every bit of it.

I know this will date me, but I remember watching that movie in the theater when I was a kid and just feeling so inspired and empowered, especially when the giant Animal emergesfrom the building in the background to save the day. As silly as the Muppet Movie was, it had a pure spirit, a powerful message about following your dreams and the perpetual fight against those that want to keep us down. I remember walking out of the theater feeling 100 feet tall (like Animal was!) Even now when I hear the music or watch the movie it brings me right back to those feelings.

Those feelings were reawakened in high school when one of my English teachers introduced me to Joseph Campbell. I internalized his idea of “follow your bliss” — essentially, if you do what makes you truly happy, things will work out. I don’t know how much I believe in fate or destiny, but sometimes the Universe sends unmistakable messages. Two Bit Consulting is growing at a good pace. Good things are in motion. I feel more centered and excited for the future than I have in a long time. Hearing Maura say those words, having it trigger that song and the feelings and memories that came with it felt like the Universe confirming the momentum. I’m moving right along.

Three months ago today I walked away from a job I’d held for twenty years. I knew it was coming but nothing really prepares you for the moment when you hand over your keys and drive away.

I’ve been thinking about identity a lot in the last three months. What nobody tells you about losing a job you loved is how much of yourself goes with it. Not just the work, the identity. The morning routine. The sense of being needed. I spent the first few weeks genuinely wondering who I was without a title attached to my name and the work. I wrote in my journal: “I feel purposeless without a job, undefined.” I meant it. I had one particularly bad day in early February where I just gave in to all of it — the anger, the sadness, the feeling of worthlessness. I walked around the house all day being miserable on purpose. It sounds counterintuitive but it worked. I woke up the next morning in the best mood I’d had in years.

What I’ve learned in the last three months is that the identity I lost wasn’t really mine. It was given to me, shaped by an institution, tied to an organization, a budget, and an org chart I didn’t choose. After the shock of the change started to wear off I began building a new identity for myself. The one I’m building now is chosen. Every piece of it.

I’ve been working to launch a consulting business: building the website, creating branding, getting organized. I launched Two Bit Consulting a couple of weeks ago, and this morning I received the Articles of Organization from the state of Missouri. It just became real in a new way. My client list is growing quickly. I’ve been writing more, building things, exploring technology in ways I haven’t had time or energy for in years. I called a former colleague this week and told them that life on the other side is pretty dang nice. I meant that too.

I’m not going to pretend the last three months have been easy. Some days were genuinely hard. But I can say without hesitation that I’m happier, less stressed, and more myself than I’ve been in a very long time.
The explorer, the builder, the connector - it turns out they were still here the whole time. They just needed a little room and energy.

Disclaimer: This is a very geeky post, if you are geek-sensitive, please feel free to skip this one.

It feels really good to be back in control of my website. I missed hunkering down with the code and losing time while figuring things out. I’ve had that on and off over the last several years, but nothing gets me there like web development. I lose myself and my sense of time; it makes me wish we had more than twenty-four hours in a day.

After finishing the Two Bit Consulting website, I was feeling a little listless and in need of another project. I had moved my domain and hosting to Micro.blog a while ago, which is a GREAT platform and there are parts of it that I’ll miss, my posts and content migrated with me, so nothing was lost, but I really wanted to get back to a self-managed, self-hosted situation. Working with Anthropic’s Claude for support and assistance, I installed Hugo, a static site generator written in Go, on my computer and hooked it up to a new git repository on GitHub. A simple git push publishes the updated files to GitHub, which then automatically deploys to my Dreamhost-hosted site. I realized I could go a step further with Apple Shortcuts and created an automation to monitor the local folder for changes, which would then trigger the terminal commands to push to GitHub. It’s not quite as user friendly as a managed host like Micro.blog, but it works very well and it feels a lot more genuine to me, kind of like driving a stick shift after years of automatic transmissions. I’m much more in control and own the whole process, plus it saves me some annual costs! Also, with the automation, I can post from my mobile devices, since the local directory is hosted in my iCloud Documents folder and syncs to all my devices. As soon as my computer sees the changed files, it will push them to GitHub!

I’ve also worked with Claude to develop a web interface to allow me to edit the various parts of my site with a nicer GUI. Which I’m using to type this little update! It works really well!

You can see the result right here — you’re already reading it. Welcome to the new jakefowler.com!

Apple was founded 50 years ago today which has me thinking about my relationship with technology and specifically Apple. My first personal computer was a Macintosh IIfx with 80MB of storage. I remember wondering what I was going to do with ALL THAT SPACE! There’s no way I would ever use it all. I also remember surfing the Internet (via AOL, IRC, Usenet, etc.) with a book to read while things loaded. How far we have come! That IIfx sparked a curiosity and passion in me that I had only experienced a few times before. I had used a Mac Classic in high school and college and was fascinated by what they could do, what they meant for me and for society even then. I had also used old PCs before that, but the Mac was approachable and friendly; it was nowhere near as intimidating to use and explore. I have always loved to push the limits of what technology can do and explore every nook and cranny of each device and piece of software I encounter. Apple made it fun to create and connect with others; I met some pretty great people in IRC channels back in the day some of whom I’m still in touch with! Computers made it much easier to find your tribe, especially for the shy introvert that I was back then.

That’s part of the inspiration for the name of my website, Something Out of Nothing. I love the idea that you can sit down at a blank screen and just start creating, whether it’s a journal entry, a book, a website for your new business, a piece of music, or a whole album. Computers offer so much potential to impact humanity in so many positive ways and Apple capitalized on that in the best possible way. I still love to explore technology and its capabilities and I love to be able to share that experience with others in ways that they can understand. This is a huge part of why I do what I do; both the love of technological exploration and the pull to help others use it to improve their lives, workflows, creativity, and connections to the world. Apple’s introduction of the Macintosh and all the life changing, society changing products and services released since helped me to discover who I was: the explorer, the builder, the connector. Years later, I’m still all three. Happy birthday Apple and thank you for the inspiration.