I'm still plugging through Wayne Suttles, Coast Salish Essays. I picked it while looking for books about the native people around Vancouver and Victoria before visiting there. Progress through the book was easy in the flight out there. There wasn't much time available to read it while there. After returning motivation to read it has flagged because it isn't quite as relevant anymore.
So why can't I quit, put it down, leave it alone, move on?
I don't know. Books have this mystical, sacred quality for me. The contents are the work of humans, sure, but there is something about a book--a capital B Book--that feels disrespectful to abandon it without finishing. It's almost like putting up a hand to someone talking to me and asking that person to be quiet. Shhh. I don't have time for what you have to say--moving on.
It's nonsense. I know it. It's obvious. But the feeling--the pressure--to continue is palpable. I've only quit on a handful (not counting books due back to the library and returned, ready or not, read or not). Quitting is a skill I'd like to learn.
I don't remember exactly how I found this book. I think I was looking for another book on Safari Books Online and this one showed up in the search results or as a suggested book linked to whatever I was looking for. Doesn't matter. I saw this in the description and knew I had to read it:
In The Power of Positive Deviance, the authors present a counterintuitive new approach to problem-solving. Their advice? Leverage positive deviants--the few individuals in a group who find unique ways to look at, and overcome, seemingly insoluble difficulties. By seeing solutions where others don't, positive deviants spread and sustain needed change.
That's what I do. (How I see myself, at least.) Roundhouse kicks to the face of the status quo.
There is an almost irresistible temptation to choose one scenario over the other: to say, in effect, "This is the future which we believe will take place. The other futures are interesting. But they're irrelevant. We're going to follow this scenario." [...] Unfortunately, reality does not follow even the best-thought-out scenario. The point of scenario-planning is to help us suspend our disbelief in all the futures: to allow us to think that any one of them might take place. Then we can prepare for what we don't think is going to happen.
The other day I was looking something up on Wikipedia. And then I followed a link. And followed a link. And so on. You know how it goes.
This trip ended up in a completely different world: hidden subway stations in New York City. I had no idea. I wasn't looking for it. But after I learned about one—the never used lower Nevins Street station—I was hooked.
I'm just going to offer some links I found, sans context, and let you trip down the rabbit hole yourself. Enjoy.