PR: What is so characteristic of your prose is the constant confrontation of the private and the public. But not in the sense that private stories take place against a political backdrop, nor that political events encroach on private lives. Rather, you continually show that political events are governed by the same laws as private happenings, so that your prose is a kind of psychoanalysis of politics.
MK: The metaphysics of man is the same in the private sphere as in the public one. Take the other theme of the book, forgetting. This is the great private problem of man: death as the loss of the self. But what is this self? It is the sum of everything we remember. Thus what terrifies us about death is not the loss of the past. Forgetting is a form of death ever present within life. This is the problem of my heroine, in desperately trying to preserve the vanishing memories of her beloved dead husband. But forgetting is also the great problem of politics. When a big power wants to deprive a small country of its national consciousness it uses the method of organized forgetting . This is what is currently happening in Bohemia. Contemporary Czech literature, insofar as it has any value at all, has not been printed for 12 years; 200 Czech writers have been proscribed, including the dead Franz Kafka; 145 Czech historians have been dismissed from their posts, history has been rewritten, monuments demolished. A nation which loses awareness of its past gradually loses its self. And so the political situation has brutally illuminated the ordinary metaphysical problem of forgetting that we face all the time, every day, without paying any attention. Politics unmasks the metaphysics of private life, private life unmasks the metaphysics of politics.
Source : http://www.kundera.de/english/Info-Point/Interview_Roth/interview_roth.html
: What do you think the award will help you achieve?
Abiy Ahmed Ali: Well, peace is a very expensive commodity in my country, as well as in my region. This kind of recognition will give me and others great energy to work towards peace and realise peace in our region. If we really successfully achieve the peace dialogue in this process in our region, the rest can be managed and done easily, so this is a great news for Africa, great news for east Africa, the place where peace is a very expensive commodity. And I’m sure it will give us energy to work towards peace and to realise peace in our region.
London: Short of starting a farm, what can we do to make our cities more sustainable?
Mollison: Catch the water off your roof. Grow your own food. Make your own energy. It’s insanely easy to do all that. It takes you less time to grow your food than to walk down to the supermarket to buy it. Ask any good organic gardener who mulches how much time he spends on his garden and he’ll say, “Oh, a few minutes every week.” By the time you have taken your car and driven to the supermarket, taken your foraging-trolley and collected your wild greens, and driven back home again, you’ve spent a good hour or two — plus you’ve spent a lot of money.
London: How do you respond to the argument that technology is not inherently good or bad, it’s how we use it that matters.
Mander: That’s the major homily of our time. And it’s a very serious mistake. The idea that technology is neutral — that it doesn’t have social, political and environmental characteristics — is really dangerous.
Consider nuclear power and solar power. Both are energy forms, but they have entirely different effects on the system. Nuclear power is an inherently centralized technology. It requires centralized military-industrial institutions. Nobody knows what to do about 250,000 years of dangerous wastes. If we were to judge energy only in terms of who uses it, that would be like saying, “Well, if some good people got together and ran the nuclear power industry, the wastes wouldn’t have to be safeguarded for 250,000 years.” But these things are intrinsic to the technology. It’s not a question of whether good people use them.
Solar technology is the exact opposite — it is inherently localizing. A couple of people can easily put it together, it’s not expensive to use, the community can run it without having to hook up to the grid, and it has no lasting negative effects.
source : https://scott.london/interviews/index.html
Q. In a world where there is surplus, (and excess, too) – thanks to the constant race for better living, technology, increased spending capabilities, financial gains – how and where does one draw the line?
Marie Kondo: Ask yourself: “Does the state of my home make me comfortable? What about the state of my life?” If you are struggling to answer yes to these questions, it’s time to re-evaluate how you are currently living.
To do this, first try tidying your home entirely. By reassessing all the belongings you have in your life, you clarify your values – a vital step in creating a boundary between your core and the world that is steeped in excess.
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What do you think is the most important among what you learned from the master chef “Jiro Ono”?
Rei Masuda: It is a professionalism, anyway whether on work or a way of life. Honestly, I think that anyone can cook sushi if trained as long as a year or so. However, Jiro always thinks about how to make customers eat his sushi better and how his sushi can become more delicious. Even now when he turned 91 (at this interview in November 2016), I think his attitude is really amazing. It leads to the current reputation of Sukiyabashi Jiro. There are various kinds of chefs in the world, and I think some people are doing for money, but Jiro has no intention of making money. He just likes to work. He just wants to see the customers’ happy face. In shot he is an old-fashioned “artisan”. I really wish to become an artisan like Jiro.
Source – https://pocket-concierge.jp/blog_en/topchefinterviews_002_sushimasuda/
When you experience that heartbreak and humiliation, are you able to make it useful in your work?
David Whyte- I would certainly say so in poetry, and I hope it’s so in human relationships too. I’ve learned there’s a cycle of grief in every art form and relationship. When I finished my last book of poetry, Pilgrim, I realised the tide was about to turn, so I started writing furiously.
There’s that great line at the end of As You Like It, where Shakespeare says: “The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo.” The songs of Apollo have poetry and lyricism, and Mercury is the messenger god who is getting the work out in the world—through printing it and reading it. I remember when I suddenly wrote a poem in a very different voice and I knew that particular tide was over. There was a kind of a beautiful, poignant grief to it. At the same time there was a sense of completion and harvest, and a sense of thankfulness.
If you read the great German-speaking poet Rilke, around the Duino Elegies, he had an experience of this visitation—of an enormous tidal current of creativity and presence and then the sense of suddenly being left. This feeling of being left is just the fact that you don’t recognise the new territory. You’re meant not to know. I think one of our great tasks as human beings is to find the part of us that is big enough for life, that can put its arms around the part that finds things difficult, that wants life to be different.
Source – https://www.dumbofeather.com/conversations/david-whyte-is-an-everyday-poet/