Videos and a related blog post.
In which Okta’s Aaron Yee and I talk about identity lifecycle.
Later in the day: Talking security, multi-factor auth, and cloud service delivery with Okta’s Eric Karlinsky. Also, client VPNs suck.
Videos and a related blog post.
In which Okta’s Aaron Yee and I talk about identity lifecycle.
Later in the day: Talking security, multi-factor auth, and cloud service delivery with Okta’s Eric Karlinsky. Also, client VPNs suck.
At last year’s Cisco Live, I sat in a room full of network engineers and architects who were openly hostile to the Cisco marketing person presenting to us. We were talking about control systems, the Internet of Things, and the networking needed to tie modern technologies together.
The presentation was basically “just buy more traditional route/switch gear and you’ll be prepped for this brave new world”, to which the audience almost universally responded “Umm, no.”
I hate being sold to, but something else irked me. I reject the philosophy they were selling all-together – that the current LAN/WAN model will be the path forward.
Compute is no longer tied to individual, physical datacenters. It has become cloudified – abstracted to the point that we only really talk about the app and automation layers rather than single VMs or even datacenters. Sure, those things exist in the stack, but we don’t really care about them as discrete objects.
Transport (networking), is following the same trend. Switches, routers, firewalls, whathaveyou – are part of the stack, but managing them individually is no longer desirable or sustainable. To adapt to the flux of compute and apps, the network layer has to be handled in software via fullstack policies, rules, and configurations that are independent of individual paths, devices, or locations.
This app needs to be delivered to this user where-ever they are at, across whatever transport is available.
That’s the promise of software defined networking and the death of the LAN as the center of the universe. If we’re defining fullstack access policy and tying it to the identity and rights of each user or resource, the LAN (and WAN, to some extent) is largely dumb plumbing being assembled and re-assembled by software.
Centralized ingress/egress becomes less relevent as well, especially when host-to-host connections are built and policed dynamically. Host and platform-based firewall/IDS/IPS are able to adapt more effectively than centralized, monolithic solutions in this scenario.
VMware’s NSX is a good example of this model (at least in this transitional phase…). Assign an access policy to an app and it flows through the datacenter, across the WAN, and onto the remote device – all at an abstracted network layer that rides on top of the “dumb plumbing” referenced above.
Going forward, I no longer care about LAN or WAN – I care about data, software, and identity.
Traditionally, if you want to build a corporate network, you order an expensive circuit from a carrier, put an endpoint like a router or firewall on it, and then build out an enclosed space behind it for trusted devices. If you want two or more locations with trusted devices to communicate with one another, you start looking at technologies like VPNs and MPLS to glue everything together.
If you want resiliency, you order more circuits and create multiple paths for your network traffic. Then you setup dynamic routing protocols and say “Perform! Self-heal! Abracadabra!”
That model, while somewhat flexible, is physical, cumbersome, and geographically pinned. It requires that IT staff wrap ever more complex and onerous controls around the network and attached devices, expanding their attack surface in an attempt to control their attack surface.
It’s a model that will continue to exist for the foreseeable future but will be pushed further and further upstream, into the domain of carriers and service providers, following the same path as compute.
A possible and, in my opinion, likely, future of the access network is one that is omnipresent and largely untrusted – a mobile, shared access WAN that obviates traditional network boundaries and segmentation.
Carriers and OEMs are testing 5G cellular network tech as I write this. It may be that 6G or 7G need to come into play before client access changes wholesale, but the progression seems natural to me; assume that the new, ubiquitous network is unsecure, collapse the security domain (reducing the attack surface) to account for that, and implement tech and controls around data, apps, and identity.
Given that direction, classical network management becomes less of a thing on the customer side and evolves to be more service provider-focused. But just like cloud compute, the corporate default will be to fallback to simpler, base network configs that serve as a underlayer to a virtualized, app-driven topology and to consume transport services rather than building and maintaining them.
This assumes that even the corporate network will be common utility rather than a proprietary diamond. (It also assumes that encryption doesn’t become illegal.) All technologies glide along the slope from rare to commodity – some take longer than others. There is no reason networking won’t follow this arc.
Photo credit: Screenpunk
A whisper and the scent of blood woke it. The blood was simple, uncomplicated. The whisper, more complex, spiced with fear, anger, sorrow, acceptance. Both trickled downward into the earth.
It was spread thin and pieces of it refused to come when called, empty of life or gone wild in isolation. What returned came slowly. Hours passed as it collected enough of itself to remember what it was. The blood it smelt had long since dried, forming brittle roots and rivers that would be broken and scattered by the wind. Only a memory remained of the whisper, but it was an anchor to pull itself from deep dreaming.
It rippled across red stone and scrub as it searched. The air bent and flowed around it – liquid heat dripping upward into the sky that did not burn except what it chose to. It was colorless fire.
The djinn found the woman’s ghost in an arroyo where she wept over her corpse.
The body was wrapped in a rough Navajo blanket that had partially opened, revealing leathery skin and blonde hair burned by harsh bleaching and failed attempts to recapture youth. Her flesh was covered in dark bruises and angry wounds.
Insects scurried away as the djinn approached and the carrion birds circling above sang an ugly song. In the high heat of the day, the ghost shivered from the painful cold that follows the dead. The djinn surrounded her with its warmth.
She wept into the night and through the next day, fully consumed in her grief. It wasn’t until the following sunset that she considered her companion.
“Where do I go now?”
The djinn expressed uncertainty, nothingness and wholeness, a sky bright with stars, an empty void.
The ghost laughed, a dry bark filled with anguish. “No answer even now, huh? Well, I don’t think I could go anywhere anyways. Feels like something’s got its claws in me.”
The djinn did not respond and the ghost stood by it silently until the moon was bright and high above. When she looked towards the djinn again it was a pulsing, black star darker than the night around it.
“I don’t exactly know what you are and I figure I ain’t got no right to ask favors of you regardless, but I’m going to anyway.”
She climbed to the top of the arroyo (the djinn followed) and pointed to lights glowing in the east, then back at the body lying the dried stream bed.
“I want justice. Can you give me that?”
For the first time in five-hundred years, the djinn spoke. Its voice seemed to come from all directions and filled her mind with fire.
She began weeping again and collapsed to the ground, holding her knees tight to her chest. She rocked and sobbed, not noticing the fire light building around her. The light had reached is peak and was fading when she discovered that she felt lighter. The bonds holding her to her body had been seared away.
She turned to the shadow beside her. A soft glow pulsed from deep inside it, but soon went dark.
“I am cleansing fire, the mercy of the desert. I give you both.”
And the ghost was gone.
The djinn enveloped her body and burned it to white ash, then turned toward the eastern lights.
A highway that had once been busy with travelers split the town in half, following the path of an older, more powerful road that no humans had ever walked. Its asphalt was being devoured by time and wind.
Signs welcoming visitors to the town lay buried and its name no longer appeared on any maps. It had once been an oasis where travelers and creatures of the desert quenched their thirst, now it was an ugly wound.
The djinn moved among trailer homes and eroding buildings of cinder block and brittle, dry wood, and took notice of the life present. Only a few dozen still lived here – those too old, stubborn, or hopeless to leave. The whole valley stank of their despair and regret.
It entered a home where an old woman slept on a broken-footed couch. The floor was cluttered with liquor bottles and cast-aside romance novels. She snored loudly and exhaled alcohol fumes.
The djinn’s presence filled the room with uncomfortable heat that woke her. Disorientation and confusion gave way to terror as the black shadow surrounded her, but her scream was stopped short as understanding and calm flowed through her. She smiled sadly.
The home began to burn in merciful, silent inferno.
It visited each of the town’s inhabitants in slow succession. None resisted the djinn, several never even woke as they burned away.
By sunrise the entire town was ash and puddles of cooling metal. What remained would be hidden by sand in a few days’ time.
The djinn was diminished now, a thin, weak flame. It had covered whole valleys in waves of fire in younger days, but that power was gone now, drained away over long millennia.
It harnessed the wind to dig a pit underneath the shade of a twisted acacia tree and reached down into the earth to pull up water from the deep aquifer that had fed the wells of the town.
The pit slowly began to fill with cool water.
It looked across the dry expanse for the last time, then the cleansing fire of the desert flickered once and went out.
I like VMware. They’re a solid company with lots of good people (With the exception of whoever is responsible for product names – VMware vCloud Air Virtual Private Cloud OnDemand? Seriously, what is wrong with you?) and tech.
I’ve been using their products for fifteen years and still remember how magical it felt the first time I loaded VMware Workstation and had Windows running inside of Windows. I remember calling someone over to my desk and telling them “Look how cool this is.” I also remember them saying “I guess, but what would you ever use that for?”
Today, you’d be hard pressed to find a corporate datacenter that isn’t running some piece of VMware tech. They took virtualization mainstream, and built the foundation of the cloud tech that everyone is using today.
Unfortunately, the world that they built is now eating them. Hypervisors became commodity, where “good enough” is an acceptable target. Hyper-V, Xen, KVM: they all became good enough for ecosystems to be built around them, followed by orchestration and the “cloud”.
VMware seemed completely oblivious to the scale and pace of what was happening. They sat on the sidelines while the world they helped build was being transformed. Maybe the thought was “This cloud stuff is for startups who
will grow into our enterprise products once they get tired of playing with toys.” or “Enterprise customers will move to the cloud… in twenty years.”
Sort of like Steve Ballmer’s “There’s no chance that the iPhone is going to get any significant market share.”
Amazon launched AWS in 2006. Microsoft launched Azure in 2010. VMware vCloud Hybrid Service (now vCloud Air), didn’t launch until 2013 – seven years after AWS, fourty-nine years in dog/tech years.
Given their late entry, they took some shortcuts. Instead of building a native cloud platform from scratch, they pushed their on-premise, datacenter products into the cloud. That sort of works, but only at a very base level. It is heavily reliant on legacy VMware tools for management and orchestration. It doesn’t scale. It requires specific web browsers and plugins.
It isn’t cloud. It looks a lot like what would happen if a VP went to a tech conference, then came back to the office and told their engineers “Everyone has a cloud. We need a cloud. BUILD ME A CLOUD!”
Pointy-haired boss is the reason we can’t have nice things.
But it started getting better in hiccuping bursts. They added DR options and Database-as-a-Service. They stripped out a truly terrible VM backup solution. The people who’ve worked on vCloud Air should be proud of that.
Then during yesterday’s VMware earnings call:
“CEO Pat Gelsinger said the service (vCloud Air) will have a “narrower focus” going forward and that money invested in it already is considered “adequate for our needs.”
In other words: “vCloud Air is dead.”
vCloud Air might have been able to carve out a significant niche if it had been:
But that didn’t happen, so it’s probably OK for it to die.
The biggest use case that VMware seemed to be addressing was DR – the “we need somewhere else for this stuff to go” problem. vCloud Air, especially under its original “Hybrid Cloud” moniker, mostly existed as a remote target for the tools you were already running onsite.
So we’ll probably see VMware do two things that they’ve been alluding to:
Both of these paths help VMware customers get into the cloud, but I’m not sure they’re good for VMware in the long-term. Once a customer is running in the cloud they’ll start asking “We’re here now. Do we really need these legacy toolsets anymore?” In many cases the answer will be “no”.
There’s a hybrid datacenter->public cloud model that VMware can succeed within, but that market will only get smaller as businesses replace applications and go directly to the cloud.
The onus is on VMware to make their tools more flexible, powerful, and compelling than the tools that AWS and others are building in-platform. If they can narrow and re-direct their focus on future needs (where the puck is headed), and think about cloud in a broader, multi-vendor context they might be able to.
They’ve already started that with containers. Docker orchestration platforms like Kubernetes and Mesos are still rough around the edges and there is room in the space for VMware to get in and leverage the benefit of their size and engineering bench.
Server-less code platforms like AWS Lambda will compete with container-based workloads. I hesitate to say that VMware needs to be in that space too, but it would be worthwhile to consider that containers are not the only future. Going 100% in on containers seems prone to getting stuck in the rut of “follower”, as Microsoft has been until their recent turnaround. Envisioning and pursuing alternate futures is how companies lead and innovate, but requires having leaders who are comfortable with false-starts and failure – or deep pockets and lots of acquisitions(meh).
VMware is doing some great things with end-user compute(EUC) and is starting down the path of meaningful integration between Horizon, Airwatch, and NSX in the datacenter. The story they tell about EUC is compelling and coherent (unlike their cloud narrative). If they can pull off their plans for end-to-end security and consistent access to corporate apps and data across all devices, they will likely trounce Microsoft and other competitors in that space.
They have the pieces and the people – they just need a clear direction and internal consensus to move forward.
Image Credit: Zooey
Sometimes people bring me ideas.
They say “I have this great idea for an app.” or “I have an idea for a tech business.” Inevitably, both are followed by “…and I just need you to build it for me.”
This is nothing special about me – it happens to most tech people.
I used to gracefully dodge with self deprecation or whatever else I could use to let the person down easy. In most cases I was being completely honest. IT is broad and few people realize just how broad and how many different technology skill sets there are.
“I just don’t know enough about that to be helpful. I’m not a developer, I do infrastructure.”
For the last couple of years I’ve started pushing back more, either by destroying the person’s idea or by encouraging them to take action on it on their own.
“You’ve just described Facebook. No, no…stop. Your idea is not different. It’s still Facebook even if you are calling it Gerbil Town. STOP!”
“You know what? That is a great idea. You should totally build that.”
Telling someone that they should act on their idea usually makes them a lot angrier than telling them their idea is terrible.
They say stuff like “That’s why I’m talking to you. I don’t know how to do this crap. I’m bringing this to you as a favor.”
And there’s the crux. You aren’t doing anyone a favor by sharing your idea with them.
What you’re really saying to the tech person is “I don’t believe in this enough to even attempt to figure it out on my own. I’m just the idea guy (i.e. useless) and I want you to put in the effort that I’m not willing to put in.”
Learning to code (and most tech stuff) isn’t hard. Developers/engineers/etc aren’t (generally) genius wizards, they just put in the work to learn a skill.
It’s actually easier to learn to code than it’s ever been and there are tons of great training resources like Code Academy and Udemy to help. Like most things, it’s mostly a question of dedicating time and effort – and you don’t have to become an expert, you just have to achieve “good enough” to get started.
If you’re truly passionate about your idea, you’ll make the time and put in the effort.
If you’re asking someone else to do it for you, that’s a pretty good sign that your heart really isn’t in it as much as you think it is. Ponder that. Is it fair to ask someone to be excited about an idea you’re not 100% committed to?
There are people who have pulled themselves out of literally sleeping in trash-filled gutters to 1.) learn to read, 2.) learn to use a computer, and 3.) learn to code and build their idea. And here you are, having just asked someone to commit their energy to something “kinda neat” you thought about while sitting on the toilet.
Even if you find someone willing to put in the work to build your idea (and it’s usually some idiot kid or well-meaning novice), you’ll own something that you don’t understand. Good luck with that.
Maybe you really do want to do something, but you’re scared. You think “I’ll never be able to figure this stuff out.” or “What if I fail?”
Tech people have the exact same fears. We worry that we can’t figure out the business stuff or the biology stuff or the construction stuff, or whatever discipline we want to work with. Most of us don’t execute on our ideas either.
We all say “if only…” and stop.
I’m speaking as much to myself as I am anyone else. I constantly have to kick myself in the butt and say “Stop being stupid. Do the thing.” – Every day of my life.
Great ideas and terrible ideas are of equal value until they are real. The value is in action.
Go do the thing. Build it, even if it starts out crappy. Just by existing it is infinitely better than the thing you never built.
You may discover on your own that your idea is terrible. Good for you. You learned something you can take into your next project. If it turns out to be a good idea and you put in the work to shape the skeleton of it, you won’t have to ask for help, because people will swarm to you.
Stop asking other people to build your dreams. Do it yourself.
Image credit: Tsahi Levent-Levi
I had a long car trip on Monday, past fields, factories, and construction sites on my way to and from a certification test. I passed semi trucks, delivery vans, and countless other cars with drivers all scooting along just like me, hands on the wheel, headed somewhere.
It all made me feel both excited and sad.
I thought about each of the businesses I passed and how each was being automated, either by pure software or robotics. There wasn’t much I came across that didn’t have the potential to be automated.
For those whose job involves driving a vehicle, they’ve got 5, maybe 10 years left before they start falling out of the labor market. Automated trucks will be lighter/more efficient (no cab needed), safer, and smart enough for most hauls. Human drivers won’t be able to compete against the robots.
Retail/service workers? We’re already seeing that happen. McDonalds has drink and cooking robots, you can bypass the front desk at hotels and check in(and unlock your room) with your phone, and I swear I haven’t talked to a human bank employee in at least 5 years.
Manufacturing? Just-in-time, custom manufacturing with 3D printers. Construction? On-site 3D printers, pre-built modules, and builder drone swarms. Police? Robocop.
It’s not science fiction, it’s here.
Automation is a net positive in terms of human progress – it’s enabling us to do incredible things with data, make more informed decisions, and build technology that overcomes our weaknesses and pushes the boundaries of our knowledge – but big social transitions like this one have consequences we need to account for.
In not many years, the majority of unskilled jobs (and many skilled jobs) will be gone and millions of people will fall out of the workforce. If you were able to adapt and are still working, your job will be unrecognizable from what it is today.
In the short term, taxi unions will continue to fight against Uber and Lyft, and they will lose. Uber and Lyft drivers will eventually be replaced by self-driving cars. Any group fighting against automation, doesn’t matter what, will lose. Their efforts are misdirected. Instead of fighting against change, they need to prepare for it as best as possible. We all need to.
It’s foolish to think your job or work product will always be needed. Always is a dangerous word, just ask the Neanderthals.
Education is one path, but that’s not going to work for everyone. There is a skills gap, but it’s probably not big enough to absorb the number of people who’ll be out of work in the next ten years. That population growth is slowing down will probably be more helpful.
Artistry is another path. Becoming an artist or artisan is just as valid an option as being an engineer, at least if you actually produce work instead of buying paintbrushes and wood chisels – and then just talking about them. Eventually, there might be a greater consumer demand for uniquely human creations than commodity, tech widgets. These things work in weird cycles.
Some people won’t be able (not everyone has the same footing or access) or capable of adapting to the new world regardless of how badly they want to, and we’ll have to do our best to take care of them through the transition. The cost of retraining and social support needs to be considered in our technology and business models, otherwise the cost will be externalized (and not adequately addressed) and millions of people will fall through the cracks.
We don’t need to slow down innovation, we just need to think about innovation in broader terms. It’s not just technology and business, it’s systemic and social in the truest sense of the word. Building software is easy compared to the challenges of the whole system your software, customers, and employees live within.
Technologists need to think about the world our code, tech, and business plugs into, not just the technology and not just the business. We’re transforming the world and it’s our responsibility to make sure everyone has a place in it if they want it.
Image Credit: Peyri Herrera
In which I venture into PR.
I’ve been writing on the internet since the golden days of GeoCities (I was in Area51 Neighborhood if you must know and have any idea what any of those words mean.). That’s where I cut my teeth on HTML, hacking together image maps and making egregious use of the <marquee> tag.
It’s also where I learned not to trust someone else’s platform with my content. Every week GeoCities would try something new to monetize what people were doing on the platform, usually making something worse for the people who hosted sites there (bandwidth limits, more ads, etc). They never had a business plan and over time, as they alienated their users trying to find one, they didn’t have a business.
And all that writing and HTML, as well as the community built around it was lost to the ether. Most of it was terrible, but it was ours.
Since then, I’ve always run my own site. I post there and only put up links to that content on social media and other sites. That’s been the conventional wisdom in web marketing for several years – own/control the platform, build your audience on the platform, profit.
But the web is changing, search engines are losing ground to social media in regard to how people find content. It’s really weird, but the world is shifting back toward the community models of the early web. It got too loud and confusing, so we’re pulling back to our tribes and filtering out the noise.
Earlier this year, I decided to try something new – posting original content to LinkedIn and making my own site secondary. After 21 weeks, here are the results and some lessons learned.
While social platforms like LinkedIn and Medium might strengthen your brand among your existing audience and give a small increase in follower growth, you are beholden to their content algorithms, which, especially in the case of LinkedIn, suck.
Here’s what 21 weeks of article views for LinkedIn looks like.
On an exponential scale, view growth is effectively flat, even as my number of followers increased by about 25% over the same period. Based on what I’ve noticed of how LinkedIn’s tech shows content to users, I’m pretty sure if my follower count hadn’t increased, view growth would have actually been negative.
I think the biggest issue is probably over-exposure, especially given the quick upward trend early on, followed by a plateau. It’s also possible I started writing crappier headlines and less interesting posts over time. I’m entirely open to that possibility.
LinkedIn seems to rank on-platform content higher than off-platform content when choosing what to show in user feeds. Theoretically, this is a good thing, but think about the people you see in your feed, the ones that are constantly posting things. They start to fade into the background over time. The more they post, the less attention you pay to them.
Content targeting is a hard problem to solve, which is why LinkedIn, Facebook, Medium and others are all dedicating resources to it.
Even though I led with LinkedIn, I always posted to my own site after the fact. Old-school SEO people would probably scream at me for doing this, since search engines downgrade duplicate content to punish content scraping sites. But the web is changing, more content is being shared across multiple social platforms and the search engines know this.
Based on the minimal amount of SEO analysis I did for each post, it appears that Google is smart enough to know the difference between a social site crosspost and a content farm.
I’ve since flipped the process to post on my site first and then LinkedIn and there doesn’t appear to be any difference in traffic/ranking to either.
I’m going to keep experimenting and see what else I can learn. I still believe that your own site is where your core content should be, but playing with variants of that content on different platforms opens up a lot of opportunities to experiment and engage different groups of people.
Search is becoming less relevant. Social is becoming the way people find your stuff. Experiment, learn, adapt.
Image Credit: Mars P.
I write to think. Usually, when I sit down to write, I don’t have a clear idea of what I’m going to write about and I often end up at the opposite end of the conclusion of the one I thought I had. That’s the secret to writing, kids. You sit down and do it and let it change you.
To paraphrase Doctor Who, I’m a big believer in that idea that if you never change your mind, you will die stupid. So I try to nurture the constant doubt and uncertainty that are baked into my personality.
But today when I sat down, I was certain. I knew I couldn’t write about technology or vendors or trade shows or any of that. Not today. Today I need to write about fear.
My Friday night Twitter feed was a river of pain, fear, chaos, and unfiltered reaction as the attacks in Paris unfolded.
Reading the news, I thought of the Murrah Building bombing in Oklahoma City, something I remember vividly from my childhood – of being scared and feeling like the world was so big and hostile and confusing. I thought of sitting slack-jawed in front of the TV on 9/11 and let all the feelings of fear and anger roll through me once again. I will remember Paris the same way.
I have sat in the bombing memorial in downtown OKC and forced myself to absorb the energy there – to feel it all and observe and process it. The weight of that emotion almost feels bearable until I notice one of the small chairs, the children’s chairs, in my peripheral vision and fall apart.
Earlier this summer I was in Budapest, just a few weeks before the massive wave of Syrian refugees began entering the country. While there, my wife and I visited the Shoes on the Danube Bank, where Hungarian Jews were once ordered to take off their shoes before being murdered and tossed into the river. It is by no means a “fun” place to visit, but it is an important experience.
I force myself to go to to these places because they are uncomfortable, because they make me remember. They make me angry and scared. They force me to process and understand the world and what I feel about it.
Fear is the root of hate
The men who attacked the people of Paris where, at their core, frightened. They were scared of a world they didn’t understand, of not being able to control their lives, of being lost and alone. They found understanding and camaraderie in anger and mutual hate, and the illusion of control through violence and terror. They let their fear drive them to do terrible things.
Every time something like the Paris attack happens, we tighten our locks a little tighter and close our hearts a little more. We are (justifiably) scared and and the fear mongers magnify that terror a thousand fold.
But what many people miss is that the fear they feel is the very same emotion that acted as a seed of hate in the terrorists they are reacting to. When we inhabit that fear and let it take over our lives, when we let it fuel distrust of our neighbors and fill our hearts with a longing for vengeance and retribution – when we do that we are following exactly the same path as the people who have caused us harm.
When terror strikes, it immediately becomes a battle of us vs. them, but if we’re honest, there is no “them”.
There is only “us” and each of us has the latent capacity to do terrible things if we follow our fears to their inevitable conclusions. Our reaction should not be “look what they’ve done”, but “look what we humans have done” and “how can we address our inner monsters and not keep repeating the same mistakes?”
The world is amazing and wonderful
My wife and I are expecting a baby boy early in the new year. In just a couple of months we are going to be responsible for the care, feeding, and shaping of another human. Honestly, it’s terrifying.
I’m overwhelmed with questions about “What am I gonna teach this little monkey about the world?” and “How can I teach him to be good and kind?”
The other night at childbirth class, one of the other attendees told the group that his biggest fear was the prospect of “raising a child in an increasingly dangerous and morally bankrupt world.” It took all I had not to react to him even though I understood the emotions that were driving him.
Agreed, the world can be a dangerous and scary place (It always has been and I’m of the belief that it’s less dangerous and scary than it’s ever been.), but it’s also wonderful, filled with amazing people and places.
I’m going to teach my son that it’s OK to be scared and that it’s OK to be angry – that it’s OK to feel whatever he feels as long as he understand what those emotions are doing to him and where they might lead him if he throws himself completely over to them.
I refuse to bring him up thinking that it’s OK to hate others because of how they look or where they’re from – fearful of who they might be. Or that the world is binary – that there is only good or evil rather than a spectrum of unintended consequences.
I’m going to teach him that everyone is afraid and what matters is what we do in spite of it – that the best of us comes to bear when we have compassion and empathy for the fear we see in others.
I’ll write about technology again next week, but this is what I had to write about today.
Image credit: Loretta Prencipe