Senior craftsperson A Fragment by Wilson Miner staff.design The thing that you’re talking about though, which I’ve never seen a mature company really have a sustainable space for, is the “senior craftsperson.” They’re not pivoting at some point in their career to saying “I’m going to take what I know and leverage it through other people.” They’re saying “I want to get better infinitely at the thing that I do.” I believe that that’s possible. You see it more in pure-art kind of careers. Like “I’m an illustrator” or “I’m a concept artist” or something, and there’s a need for that person being really fucking good at that one thing, and continuing to do that one thing. I think a lot of people can intuitively understand why that would be really satisfying for someone as a career path. The dual ladder craftwork
Kokoro A Novel by Natsume Sōseki www.penguinrandomhouse.com Vibrations in the airThat delicate and complex instrumentThe great soundless whirl of darknessUnderfootNot them he despised+2 More zenabsurdity
Vibrations in the air Words are not just vibrations in the air, they work more powerfully than that, and on more powerful objects. words
That delicate and complex instrument Could that delicate and complex instrument that lies in the human breast ever really produce a reading that was absolutely clear and truthful, like a clock’s hands pointing to numbers on its dial? lovetruth
The great soundless whirl of darkness I could not know that even then the little light was being drawn irresistibly into the great soundless whirl of darkness and that I was watching a light that was destined soon to blink out and disappear. lightdarknessmelancholy
Underfoot The memory of having sat at someone’s feet will later make you want to trample him underfoot.
Not them he despised For all his unresponsiveness to others’ affection, I now see, it was not them he despised but himself. melancholy
Reading I suppose it’s because I believe you don’t really become a finer person just by reading lots of books. learningcommonplace
A circle of beads If you count off a circle of beads, you never reach an end. At what point, and with what feelings, would his fingers cease to move those beads? This may be a silly question, but it haunts me. ending