A resurrected bike named Apollo

When I found Apollo he was crushed beneath the weight of about a dozen discarded pedal bikes. The only thing that stood out about him was his neon orange frame pockmarked with copper barnacles of rust, deposits of dirt, and multicoloured lettering on the side denoting Apollo and Kaos. Other than his frame's striking colouration — and even the paint responsible for that was beginning to crack and undulate due to prolonged exposure to North Eastern Scotland rains — it was evident why this bike had been discarded (donated) to this awesome community bike program.

Apollo was a vestige of a bygone era before a newer and better bike was discovered and purchased in his stead; a Capitalist derelict that once had value, but lost his value when a bigger and better thing came along and required less maintenance and care. And yet, Apollo still had potential. I saw that somewhere — maybe I felt it in his frame — so I decided to roll him out of the abandoned bike pen and take a shot at fixing him up. It was a battle even getting him out of there he was so buried and forgotten (out of the cave, into the light).

The first issue to address was the rust and dirt: I had to clean what I could to see what I was working with and what needed to be fixed. So I grabbed a bristled brush, a wet rag, and some variation of WD40. Then, I went to work. As it turns out, the brush's bristles were so coarse that I stabbed myself a few times in the left hand. Blood started to flow and grease started to mix into my skin and get beneath my fingernails. But I kept working. I needed a bike and I wanted my bike to be Apollo. Eventually, he became as clean as he was going to get, unless he was getting a new paint job, and though my fingers were aching from the effort and cold air, I had accomplished something. Now onto the next task (further diagnosis of my two-wheeled patient).

The second issue to address was Apollo's wheels: both of them were rusted out to the point that they wouldn't ride well, so I went back into the bike pen of chaos and searched for some usable wheels. That took me a while, naturally, but I eventually found what I was looking for. Pretty good find for a junk pile, actually. The front wheel went on without much effort, but the back wheel proved to be a tough exercise worth about an hour's work. Even after I finally had it affixed to its proper place and tightened, that wheel would rub against the frame as soon as I tried to ride the bike. So, I had to ask a friend for help and affix each bolt just right so the wheel would stay centred and rub free. Then, as it turned out, I had the wrong bolts and the wheel I had chosen had a messed up axle. So, it was back to the chaos pen for me to find another wheel, and fortunately, I found what I was looking for after a bit of digging. Then, it was a series of rides and recalibration to make sure the new wheel stayed and place. Finally, we found the sweet spot. The wheels were centred.

The third and last issue for the day was the brakes: the pads were so worn down that we needed new ones, and we went in search of the right size and shape. Sure enough, we found them after much digging through a massive bin of used brake pads, and it was back to the bike to fix them on. It was process of move, tighten, test, move, tighten, test, move, tighten, test, until they were where they needed to be and responded when they needed to. Then, the moment of final truth: would Apollo ride well and true? Apollo did, and a dead object of Capitalism was resurrected and brought its fixer and rider joy; more joy than he would have received from simply buying a bike.

More works needs to be done on Apollo, yes, because he's a bit of an eyesore and needs better parts, but he's a work in progress and he's going to be back to his former glory with time; maybe even better if enough care is put into him. These sorts of things... they really make you rethink common conceptions of value, don't they?

Gift making and giving

The other day my wife opened the front door and walked outside, only to see a dead bunny rabbit at the doorstep with its entrails flopped out on the stoop like a bunch of cooked spaghetti noodles sprawling crazily out of a burst bag. The kill was credited to our wonderful cat Squints, who like other cats, considered this carcass a gift to his owners.

Not a few days later I was trying to sleep in and I heard the sounds of the same cat playing with what sounds to be one of his many toys. Usually it's "Mr. Bee" because that seems to be his favourite. But then, I heard a crunching noise that is uncharacteristic of the toys he normally plays with, so I reluctantly get out of bed to investigate. Indeed, it's not Mr. Bee, but rather a lone bird wing with protruding vertebrae and splashes of blood. Squints is munching on it and looks up with what I imagine must be a cat's grin. Again, it's a gift from cat to owner because he stops munching on it and nudges it toward my bare feet.

Then a few nights afternthat second gift, I'm reading by myself when I hear screams emanating from the kitchen. Squints has a mouse in his mouth and he's carrying it around the house with glee, looking like he's proud to share the spoils of his late night hunt. The first people he saw was my mother in law and wife, so he tried to show them what he'd caught. They freaked out, and it was yet another gracious gift from our feline.

What I learned from these experiences—other than the fact that our cat is growing into a skilled hunter—is that humans often give gifts to other humans without considering whether or not what is given will actually be considered a gift. And this is especially the case with creatives, artists, and leaders of any type. We love to dream up "gifts" for others in our studios and our offices, only to realize that they are received as the exact opposite when we finally give them away.

I don't blame cats for this type of behaviour, because cats are cats. But humans are humans, and we should know better when we're attempting to give gifts. This is because we have the conscious faculties required to think about the people we're giving gifts to.

It could be a birthday present.

It could be a song.

It could be a lecture.

It could be a piece of advice.

It could be a loan.

It could be anything shared with another person with the intention of introducing some sort of affirmation or positivity in their life. But before we dream about our gifts to others and think they're definitely going to love this, we need to pause and reflect before we move forward. Because at the end of the gift making and giving process we might've just ended up giving someone else a dead mouse.

No, we don't need to capitulate to every person's concept of a gift. But, we should also be conscious that there's a marked difference between capitulation and consideration when giving any kind of gift.

You're only as compelling as your nemesis

I've always stood by my multi-layered argument for why Batman is the best and most interesting superhero, and today I added yet another layer to my stance on this issue: Batman is the most interesting and compelling superhero not just because of his own character, personality, and story; he is also the most interesting and compelling superhero because of the villains he faces.

This is because each villain acts as a mirror image of Batman's psyche and character. With fiends like the Joker and Mad Hatter, psychos like the Scarecrow and Riddler, and monsters like Bane and Killer Croc — to name a few but the extensive list of crazy and awesome Batman villains — we are not only seeing very interesting and unique villains wreak havoc on the world and act out certain personality traits in stunning and creative (some would say insane) ways, we are also encountering articulations of the very character, personality, and story traits of Batman himself. Which is to say, each villain represents a part of the whole Batman, and they show us what Batman could become if he gave into his deeper, less heroic qualities.

You know it to be true! At times, we see these various traits come out in those moments when he's starting to cross the line between being an agent of order who puts criminals in Arkham Asylum, to becoming an agent of chaos and fear who just might belong in Arkham Asylum instead.

And that, friends, is yet another reason why Batman is the best superhero.

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Aside from this detail resulting in powerful stories, it also teaches us a great deal about creative work — whether that involves performance, marketing, innovation, worship, and so on — in that it tells us that every hero needs a villain to make it more interesting and complex; something to combat and be challenged by; someone to hold up a mirror to us and our work and say this is what you could become if you are not careful.

Sure, most brands, bands, and marketers don't like to think about their nemeses, let alone see aspects of themselves in them, but it's a valuable consideration to make when creating and sharing anything. So stop and ask, who is the villain that we are facing and what does this villain tell me about the world, myself, and what I'm making and/or sharing?

I mean, you can avoid asking the question if you like. But that only increases the likelihood of you becoming a villain in the end.

Don't show the monster

One of the many reasons why Alfred Hitchcock's films were so terrifying and compelling when they were first released was this: he didn't show the monster — at least not entirely. And if he did show the monster, it was always at a key moment that deepened the mystery, suspense, and terror of the film rather than stole from it.

Think about the famous thriller/slasher Psycho. The killer, when he's all dressed up, is present in the scenes thematically, but he's visually present only about 25% of the shots he appears in. And when he is in a frame, all we get to see is a silhouette, if that.

Does that make the monster more terrifying and mysterious — engaging, if you will — than less terrifying? It's because the mind engages with the silhouette or the spectre of a character, creates its own narratives, conjectures its own physical features and psychological makeup, but still can't completely unlock the mystery of this person.

Or think about a newer movie like Signs if you're not a Hithcock fan. Spooky huh? Well, at least until we actually saw the aliens in full. Then it became a bit anti-climactic.

This is a lesson a lot of artists and media types could well learn from. In a world where everybody is putting themselves, their brand, or their work in the faces of people both online and off, there is no mystery, suspense, or wonder left for the mind to engage in. So we lose out on the power of masterful storytelling and the wonder it creates.

Because we've already seen the product after you shoved it in our faces, we aren't curious enough to see it for ourselves and hold it in our hands.

Because e've already heard how awesome your record is because you told us with that tweet, we don't want to get the record and listen to it in our home.

Because we've already had the main course, we don't want to order an appetizer that is the trick up your sleeve.

Sure, sometimes it is better to show the monster. But often times it's better to keep the monster present only 25% of the time, and let the other 75% — which is the story — take care of the wonder, awe, suspense, and mystery.

Many of us were told...

Many of us were told to be quiet and get good grades so we'd get into the best kind of school.

Many of us were told to wear the clothes and play the part so people would respect us, give us accolades, and then invite us to their parties.

Many of us were told to behave and follow the rules and we'd land the juicy job and get a promotion.

Many of us were told to cheat and steal and manipulate if you have to in order to achieve your goals.

Many of us were lied to, because many of us were silent and got good grades and still didn't get accepted into the best school because we forgot to develop people skills and build our experience, character, and creative portfolios.

Many of us were lied to, because we wore the clothes and played the part, and still didn't get invited to the party or have people give us high fives because people sensed we were inauthentic and the type of people we were trying to fit in with weren't all that nice or fun to be around anyway.

Many of us were lied to, because we behaved and followed the rules and didn't get the job we were hoping for because they were looking for the type of person who coloured outside of the lines as compared to inside of them.

Many of us were lied to, because we cheated, stole, and manipulated and ended up isolated and unsupported because nobody wanted to work with us.

Many of us were lied to, but it's not the end of the world.

We can resist those lies and be who we were made to be. It really comes down to a decision: will you choose to listen to the lies that you were told, or, will you choose to leave them behind and start walking the way that you need to walk?

I know it's scary. I know you've been told that if you don't listen to the lies than you're going to fail big and lose lots. But here's a question that might change your life: would you be willing to fail big and lose lots if it meant you were able to lead a life that brought you authentic, deep, and lasting joy because you were simply being who you were made to be?