"Dissent"
Rushing is not a good habit. All else being equal, the fastest path is always that of least resistance. However, no resistance means no resilience. If you get high enough up the mountain slope without taking the time to build your skill and capacity along the way you may find yourself in a situation you can’t get out of.
An analog: the wood of old growth trees is strong and dense whereas new growth trees are weak and soft. The difference is not age. Old growth trees grow slow, they have to compete every step of the way. New growth is pampered in single crop plantations and weakness is the result. I would have expected some tough lessons to be learned after last winter, but the conclusion one draws depends on one’s own conceptual framework. Every grower has doubled down, dead vineyards have been replanted, fertilized, and watered to high heaven. New shoots now reach skyward, dwarfing the trellis posts. Yes, you can grow fast, but can you grow strong?
I believe this to be the wrong approach, but it is chosen because people are biased towards what they can immediately see. 'More’ doesn't mean ‘better’. This is why an idea can be more powerful than a perception. In order to see in a certain way you must, at the very least, declare the principle of what you are doing and why you are doing it. Such a declaration becomes the lens through which everything else is interpreted. Conscious engagement is critical because the act of navigating is more important than the act of arriving. The world gets messy and things get in the way, so in order to helm the inevitable suffering in pursuit of an objective we need a foundation of conceptual clarity.
Let’s be clear, I don’t claim to have any answers. If anything, as they rightfully say at the end of every first aid course, I know just enough to cause a lot of damage, but the bags under my eyelids betray a lack of sleep, not action. Those who have rushed to their beds rest easy. Now, after two years of demolition, toil, rebuilding, and rejuvenation our self-rooted cuttings are growing slowly. The essential question is not how tall is the vine, but how deep are its roots and how strong is its wood?
We are in an industry where the status quo has been driven by too many unwilling to take the slower path. Quality has been sacrificed on the alter of expediency. The economics of speed have only been masqueraded as prudence. Flying too high too quickly means an inevitable crash from which recovery may be impossible. This is why I dissent.
An analog: the wood of old growth trees is strong and dense whereas new growth trees are weak and soft. The difference is not age. Old growth trees grow slow, they have to compete every step of the way. New growth is pampered in single crop plantations and weakness is the result. I would have expected some tough lessons to be learned after last winter, but the conclusion one draws depends on one’s own conceptual framework. Every grower has doubled down, dead vineyards have been replanted, fertilized, and watered to high heaven. New shoots now reach skyward, dwarfing the trellis posts. Yes, you can grow fast, but can you grow strong?
I believe this to be the wrong approach, but it is chosen because people are biased towards what they can immediately see. 'More’ doesn't mean ‘better’. This is why an idea can be more powerful than a perception. In order to see in a certain way you must, at the very least, declare the principle of what you are doing and why you are doing it. Such a declaration becomes the lens through which everything else is interpreted. Conscious engagement is critical because the act of navigating is more important than the act of arriving. The world gets messy and things get in the way, so in order to helm the inevitable suffering in pursuit of an objective we need a foundation of conceptual clarity.
Let’s be clear, I don’t claim to have any answers. If anything, as they rightfully say at the end of every first aid course, I know just enough to cause a lot of damage, but the bags under my eyelids betray a lack of sleep, not action. Those who have rushed to their beds rest easy. Now, after two years of demolition, toil, rebuilding, and rejuvenation our self-rooted cuttings are growing slowly. The essential question is not how tall is the vine, but how deep are its roots and how strong is its wood?
We are in an industry where the status quo has been driven by too many unwilling to take the slower path. Quality has been sacrificed on the alter of expediency. The economics of speed have only been masqueraded as prudence. Flying too high too quickly means an inevitable crash from which recovery may be impossible. This is why I dissent.