I’ve recently discovered a book genre that I love: collections of advice from a large number of mentors, experts, or people otherwise considered to be the best at what they do.
My first exposure to this format was Getting There: A Book of Mentors by Gillian Zoe Segal, which features essays from Warren Buffett, Anderson Cooper, Jillian Michaels, Michael Bloomberg, and dozens of other luminaries, each sharing their challenges, obstacles, and lessons learned along the way.
After that, I had to check out Tim Ferriss’s famed bestseller Tribe of Mentors: Short Life Advice from the Best in the World, which, so far, does not disappoint. Ferriss takes a question-based approach to the concept, and it’s interesting to see so many varying perspectives on the same set of thoughtfully chosen questions.
Not all advice is good advice for all people—but the right advice at the right time for the right person can be life-altering.
As a long-time admirer of biologist Richard Dawkins, I thoroughly enjoyed his autobiography, Brief Candle in the Dark: My Life in Science. The book is structured as a series of stories and anecdotes, ordered by subject matter rather than chronology. It was fascinating to take a peak behind the curtain and get to know the man behind the science.
After reading several of Dawkins’s previous books, Brief Candle in the Dark offers context about how they fit into the bigger picture of his life and career. It also provides a rather candid look at his experiences, inspirations, and personal philosophies surrounding science, religion, education, the public debate format, and many other topics.
Dawkins is clearly one of the great minds of his generation, but what I think truly sets him apart is his ability to communicate scientific ideas to the general public with excitement and eloquence, instilling in millions a sense of intellectual curiosity.
If you’re a fan as well, you don’t want to miss this book.
Great documentary by Germany’s DW, though I don’t find myself all that interested in uploading my consciousness to a computer.
Don’t get me wrong: mapping the brain and reconstructing its functions are indeed worthy pursuits with grand implications. But I suspect what makes the idea compelling to most people is a hope for self-preservation, i.e. you upload your consciousness to a machine and then you get to live forever!—but that wouldn’t exactly be the case.
Mapping or “uploading” your brain to a computer is fundamentally just a data transfer. In any data transfer, the source data and destination data are momentarily identical—but they persist as two distinct entities, with neither having any particular influence on the other. When you copy a file from one location to another, the original file doesn’t change just because it was copied. It doesn’t become the copy. And of course, the original file can still be destroyed.
Likewise, if and when the technology arrives to map your brain and recreate your consciousness using a computer, it will essentially be like cloning the person you were in that moment—in other words, making a copy. And like any other original file, you, too, can still be destroyed.
Using machines to emulate our consciousness does little to prevent our biological demise. This sort of technology is fascinating and valuable for plenty of reasons, but immortality is not among them.
A succinct and fascinating explainer of something we all take for granted:
In 1968, researchers began studying 12-year-old students who were in the sixth grade. They examined the influence of their intelligence, characteristics, behaviors and their parents’ socioeconomic status.
Then, 40 years later, they followed up with those students. Not surprisingly, the students who were described by teachers as “studious” were more likely to have prestigious jobs. But, the studious kids didn’t make the most money in adulthood.
The highest income earners were the “naughty kids.” The kids who broke the rules and defied parental authority became the highest income earners as adults.
Similarly, the Illinois Valedictorian Project found that valedictorians are less likely to become millionaires than their peers.
Of course, life isn’t all about money. But the implication here is something I have long suspected: those inclined to break rules and question authority are more likely to be successful.
I recently passed 12,000 total students across the six business and technology courses I teach on Udemy. I’m so grateful for everyone who has enrolled—if that’s you, thank you!
Those 12,000 students collectively represent 154 countries, with the United States accounting for less than a quarter of the pie.
Just a few decades ago, the notion of a single educator reaching 12,000+ students in the majority of the world’s countries would have been absurd. The Internet is a cool thing, isn’t it?
Education is changing for the better, and I’m stoked to play a small part in the e-learning revolution.