Most will blindly justify structure and tradition, claiming they should be perpetuated because “that’s how things were done in the past,” or “that’s what worked for [some vaunted figurehead.]”.  But IMHO, perpetuation is only justified if it achieves the desired results while upholding an ethical standard.  If either of those parameters are not being met, then scrutiny is required, and after a fair amount of time, I personally require good justification of why that structure or tradition hasn’t been upgraded, or—given sufficient evidence—why it hasn’t been torn down and replaced.

Most of us love simplicity, but ironically, most of us hate doing what it takes to produce it.  A 2-hr movie is powered by HUNDREDS of work hours.  A house is more than just a set of walls; it is a network of structural supports, wiring, and plumbing.  A user-intuitive smartphone is a dazzling array of carefully engineered considerations.  It is only by plunging into the depths of complexity that we can surf its waves, then—through skill and audacity—return once more to the shores of simplicity.

In my opinion, being willing to aggressively test and challenge one’s beliefs is essential to developing a set of values worth believing in.

From what I’ve seen, strength of imagination is unimportant—eternal archetypes/tropes call to us in countless voices, asking that they be reiterated over and over, winking in and out of an infinity of soul-brightening incarnations, triggered by phrases that starts as simply as “What if ___”  No it’s not the strength of imagination that’s important…

What’s important is the drive to tap it.

(IMHO) At their basest levels, all disciplines/endeavors must serve some practical function.  One level above that, they are expressions of healthy competition, or new conduits for novelty.  But at the highest level, they serve as mirrors into our beings, reflecting our weaknesses and deepest tendencies back to us, allowing us to recognize and hack our operating systems as necessary.  I think that’s where the REALLY interesting stuff happens.  

I think that’s where—to quote Musashi—”If you know the way broadly, you will see it in all things.”

“Addiction to potentiality must never get in the way of doing stuff.  (Translation:  Get past the fun part of throwing around a premise, and put that elbow grease in so that it manifests it into something real).”  

—People who don’t just talk about novelty, but strive to produce it

I have met many that are willing to give away money and things, but few who are willing to give away time or comfort.  It seems to be too uncomfortable a prospect, unless there’s a guaranteed wage or return attached to each hour.  IMHO, as someone who wants to create, time and comfort are the very things I must be willing to sacrifice.  I don’t believe that an artist rises on tidal waves of inspiration that magically instill a work ethic, but ascends to greatness in those quiet moments when nobody’s watching—those moments when I could binge watch, sleep in, or indulge in any number of innocent, deadly procrastinations (which are usually covered up with always-fashionable, rueful laughter).  

I believe that when I use those quiet moments to produce instead of consume, that the universe takes notice, and the energy I put out will be reciprocated (in one way or another).  I consider this willingness to give up time and comfort—despite the lack of an immediate return—to be one of the highest forms of faith.

“Tradition and structure are all-important, and must be preserved at all costs.”  

—Perpetuators who hamper their own evolution by blindly supporting established belief systems.

“Tradition and structure are a means to an end.  Change them as needed (while maintaining your ethics) in order to achieve results and hit your targets.”  

—Paraphrase of Musashi, polymaths, and autodidacts.

Irony (specifically the kind where I’m hampered by the very traits I accuse others of harboring) bursts from the surface of reality, entangling me with insubstantial tentacles that solidify and strengthen as I struggle harder and harder, with ever increasing zealotry.  The only way to free myself is to dive deep deep DEEP into the depths of awareness, an undying ocean where (even though it could be argued that this is where irony originates from) is a place of serene quiet, a place that has no rooms for tentacles, monsters—and, of course—no room whatsoever for any kind of prison…

Aside from the one I choose for the sheer fun of it.

IMHO, writing is about understanding human nature well enough to cobble together a mess of squiggly symbols (letters) into a magic spell that attunes a reader’s brain into a parallel dimension.  The barrier to entry is almost nonexistent—almost anyone can write.  The barrier to perception (great writing, after all, is meant to undo the walls of perception and flood the reader with concepts and emotions), is INCREDIBLY high.  That’s the reason why an author should respect his/her audience and do his/her damndest to make sure that not a single letter is out of place, that they have followed/broken the rules JUST so—so that their readers are not looking at dry, black-on-white scrawl, but a tapestry of concepts stuffed with memetic magic.