Thirteen Ways of Looking at an Idea. #21 #cong18


Just as there are many ways in which you can execute an idea, there are many ways to experience an idea. How can we examine more deeply the impact – for better, for worse – our ideas will have when executed? If we look at anything using different lenses we will gain new and valuable perspectives.

4 Key Takeaways:

  1. The reality of an idea is based on a person’s experience of that idea.
  2. Capitalism often uses the lens of short term profit to gauge an idea’s worth.
  3. Widening the perspective from which we judge and value ideas will benefit more of humanity and our planet.
  4. Do nothing that will harm a single child on this planet, for the next seven generations.

About Michelle Gallen:

I’m wreck-dwelling novelist who guzzles coffee, sips whiskey and inhales chocolate. Also known to get all geeky about edtech and medtech.

Contacting Michelle Gallen:

You can follow Michelle on Twitter or connect with her on LinkedIn.

By Michelle Gallen

Thirteen Ways of Looking at an Idea (With apologies to Wallace Stevens)

Among twenty snowy mountains,
The only moving thing
Was the i of the idea.

I was of three minds,
Like a decision tree
In which there are three ideas.

The idea whirled in the autumn winds.
It was a small part of the alpha release.

A man and a woman
Are one.
A man and a woman and an idea
Are one.

I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes,
The idea bristling
Or just after.

Icicles filled the long window
With barbaric glass.
The shadow of the idea
Crossed it, to and fro.
The mood
Traced in the shadow
An indecipherable cause.

O thin men of Silicon Valley,
Why do you imagine golden drones?
Do you not see how the idea
Walks around the feet
Of the children about you?

I know noble accents
And lucid, inescapable rhythms;
But I know, too,
That the idea is involved
In what I know.

When the idea flew out of sight,
It marked the edge
Of one of many circles.

At the sight of ideas
Flying in a green light,
Even the bawds of euphony
Would cry out sharply.

He rode over Washington
In a glass roach.
Once, a fear pierced him,
In that he mistook
The shadow of his equipage
For ideas.

The river is moving.
The idea must be flying.

It was evening all afternoon.
It was snowing
And it was going to snow.
The idea sat
In the cyborg-limbs.

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