Much has been said about companies’ capacity to adapt. If they are to survive, never mind thrive, company leaders must learn to adapt. Such is the pace of change that businesses are disappearing more quickly than ever before.
Only the literature of the fantastic deals with the nonhuman as of equal interest and importance. In another essay, in another book, Le Guin has said that so-called realism centers the human. There are too many ants, we think, reaching for the spray, when it is equally true that there are too many humans. We think we wish to join the wild animals in the jungle but will not tolerate the wild animals in our kitchens. And then we fail this dream when the wrong animals ask it of us.
Somewhere inside us, I think, we all carry the Mowgli dream-that the other animals will see and accept us as one among them. I think about the troubled human/other interface. I think about cats and their adorable murderous ways. Thinking about beetles proves surprisingly expansive, especially when told to do so by the good cat with the bad paws. “Think about beetles,” Cat suggests, and so I do. On these occasions, the topic of the day is proposed by Cat instead. Sometimes the shingle on the cave says that the sage is out. Land at Ursula Le Guin’s website and go directly to the blog to see her most recent postings.īut all function beautifully as launchings into your own thoughts. Make your way instead to the wormhole known as Google and slide on through. Remember, if you can see them, they can see you! Avoid the monster YouTube, that great eater of hours. Tiptoe by any and all comments sections so as not to wake the trolls. You must cross the Wikipedian swamp, with its uncertain footing. Today the trip to the Le Guin cave is less arduous but no less dangerous than the archetypal climb to the mountaintop. Le Guin suggests that it just might be breakfast. I don’t know what the important part is for the sage. ”įor the seeker, the answer is less important than what the seeker does with the answer. ” Or she might tell me that “the grave is without egg. ” Or that “fear is seldom wise and never kind. She might say instead that “old age is for anyone who gets there. I thought that if I climbed the mountain up to the cave of the wise Ursula Le Guin and posed the predictable question, I might get this very same answer. The cartoon came back into my mind while reading this collection.
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