I, Nate Tucker

I just saw one of my coworkers sitting on a bench in the lobby, staring toward the ground, but starting at nothing. I don’t know him well, but he seems to be a smart man. As I walked by, this thought came to me: Depression is a function of the ratio of intellect to vision.

I’ve always liked the lyric, “I think I’m just scared. I think too much.” When I have been depressed, I sometimes wished I could just stop thinking, because it was the thinking that was causing the depression.

An intellectual recognizes the dreariness and hopelessness in life. Some people do not have that sort of intellect. For example, there’s a bum who commutes the opposite direction of me every morning. I see him in his blue hoodie and carhart coveralls. He holds both hands on the shopping cart, and limps along, one foot raised up behind him, his crutches tucked beneath the cart. Of course, I’m making some large assumptions, but I understand that there are lots of resources for a man like that to get back on his feet. Meagan tells me that if a person like that wants help, he can get it (especially in Salt Lake, so near the Church). But it’s this lack of intellect (as I’m calling it) that keeps him from recognizing his situation as a problem. And, not seeing a problem, he has nothing to solve, and not much to get depressed about. (He always strikes me as being surprisingly content in his big fluffy beard.)

My other coworker makes another nice case study: He just turned 40. He recognizes that he’s getting old–that his life is winding down–and this gets him down. Another man might approach that marker obliviously, proving the old adage that ignorance is bliss. Recognizing the problem puts my coworker at a disadvantage to the man who is oblivious. Unless–UNLESS–he lets this recognition move him to the next step…

Vision is the counterbalance to intellect. Intellect lets a man see his problems. Vision lets him react and overcome them. If the bum could see his situation as a problem, vision could then drive him to get help, and then a job and a roof. Intellect reminds the 40-year-old that life is short, but vision could drive him to spend his short lifetime changing the world, instead of playing World of Warcraft.

Again, depression is having an improper balance of intellect and vision.

The solution, then, is either to think less or see more.

(Better to be a happy lunatic than a sad genius. Better still to be a happy genius.)

We’re standing at one of life’s crossroads with two paths before us. They both lead in good directions, but in different directions. Which job offer should I accept? Should I go back to school or keep working up through the company?

What is the right path?

This is often something we take to God with the hope that he will tell us which is right. And sometimes we don’t seem to get an answer. I propose that this is because the path is not the preeminent element of the scene.

We often think of choices like tokens on a game board–move twelve spaces on this path and you’ll end up here. This model causes us to think in terms of one choice being better than another because it gets us closer to some unknown goal.

Let’s change the analogy a bit: Pretend we are sculptors. Our life choices are the choice between which type of clay to use for our sculpture–perhaps it’s between stoneware and terra-cotta clays. Yes, they have different qualities–pros and cons–but both can be shaped into something good. Although the type of clay will effect the outcome, the type of sculptor will have a far greater effect on the result.

Now back to the topic at hand. If the Lord just gives you an easy answer, your choosing is removed and you’re a passive sculptor–a lesser sculptor. But the Lords wants to make you into an active sculptor–a greater sculptor. Thus he lets you choose, and by choosing you become empowered. By choosing, you become a better, stronger person. You become a chooser who has more significance in the scene than the choices themselves.

So what is the right path?

You choosing is the right path.

We got out of our meeting late, past 3:30. Any other day and it wouldn’t have mattered, but I had to leave at 4:30 to get home to prepare the meal for dinner group. TR (client) wanted a new draft with last-minute changes. I told my manager the situation. He just said, “I understand if you have to leave. But do the best you can.”

I truly believed there was no possible way to finish in time, but I felt my reputation was at stake. I rushed back to my chair, throttled the mouse, and frantically started closing open windows. My computer started to lag, and I reluctantly decided to reboot. I clicked restart, let go of the mouse, and leaned back in my chair.

While Bill and crew reset the RAM, I thought through my design process. Normally we create tables in Photoshop so we can precisely match pixels, but there is really no worse program for the job. It hit me that I could create a table in Word and import it. Of course, it wouldn’t be pixel perfect, but it would get the job done in a fraction of the time. I thought about the layout of the data, the export process, and who I would email it to. When Windows and Photoshop had loaded, I hit the ground running. I was still a little frantic, but my mind was focused. I emailed the new draft with fifteen minutes to spare.

Sometimes the most time-effective work flow, ironically, requires a few minutes of not working. Sometimes you just have to reboot.

(This attitude was partially inspired by The 4-Hour Work Week, a fantastic book.)