Rubik’s Cube, a Satellite, and New Perspectives

Twenty years ago, I was at a conference where someone gave their equation for creativity: n+u=i. New Stuff + You = Inspiration. I wrote it down in a Moleskine, and for whatever reasons, I think about that statement regularly. You never know when those simple thoughts will leave a lasting impression, but that one did.

I’ve always tried to navigate the unknown, try new things, and try new kinds of new things. I’ve forced myself to make a simple App (The Bacon Button, a simple sound machine that was a loop of sizzling bacon rather than white noise), learned to solder for Radio Shack, and roasted a marshmallow with a drone.

If creativity is about connecting dots in unexpected ways, then the more dots I can create, the more effective I’ll be, right? That’s my working theory; we’ll see if it ever works out.

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I’ve always been fascinated (yet intimidated) by Rubik’s cube. Last week, however, I was on a business trip to Washington DC, where I got to spend an extra night at my cousin’s house. Her nine-year-old son was a master of the cubes, that’s right– plural. They had a basket full of cubes: speed cubes, classic cubes, neon cubes, ripped-apart cubes, 3-by-3s, 2-by2s, and impossibly misshapen pyramids and other-shaped non-cubes I refuse to acknowledge. But within twenty-four hours, something that had intimidated me my entire life was able to be conquered.

My cousin, Cameron, taught me the same way she taught her son: step-by-step. She realized through experience that too much information not only overwhelmed but also interrupted the learning process. She wouldn’t even entertain explaining subsequent steps until I had mastered everything prior. Watching a YouTube video, rewinding, and re-watching the same step over and over is not just frustrating, it’s kinda boring.?

At breakfast, I was at step one, and by lunch, I was hastily learning the last few steps before heading to the airport. At 5:05 pm, I successfully completed the cube for the first time without referring to her written instructions – and I’ll admit, I was excited – and since I was in the back seat of a four-hour flight, I figured I’d keep going until I started to develop some muscle memory. My best time that day was 3:15.

I bought cubes for my kids, nieces, and nephews. I was excited about the thing I’d learned, and I also wanted to transfer that enthusiasm. I only had a couple of takers.

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A couple of days later, I set out on another new journey, but one I’d been thinking about and planning for about a month. I was back to traveling with my family, but not fully on vacation. The joy of working from anywhere is that you can really work from anywhere, BUT… you actually have to sit down and do the work… but I like loopholes and avoiding unwritten rules (because they aren’t written). I was going to a video conference from a mountain top.

In preparation, I bought a Starlink, one of Elon Musk’s satellites designed for remote living. Last month they introduced an RV plan which allowed location changes. I found multiple videos for hard cases, permanent installations, and streaming from converted vans, but nothing for a backpack.

I needed a battery, a chair, a table, and a backpack that could fit everything inside. I eyeballed my camera backpack and thought, “I bet I could make it work” – and it did! I’m at a ranch where everyone spends their days horseback riding and fly fishing, but I couldn’t wait to tell them about catching a wi-fi signal. It felt like the future.

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So in one week, two very different experiences reinforced the same point. One was an analog puzzle that had intimidated me forever, and the other involved an array of satellites, batteries, and working off the grid. I guess the takeaway is: give into the unknown.?

When we’re young, we’re forced to try new things, learn new things, and experience things for the first time. It is exciting, gives us perspective, and shapes who you are. But as we grow up, we lose the new. We go to the same restaurants, talk to the same people, get news from the same sources, and reinforce the beliefs and constructs that made us who we’ve become.

Post by: Rye Clifton