Creekside Notes

  Photo by Ricardo Rocha on Unsplash A farm boy leaves home and becomes a Jedi. A reluctant prince faces danger and returns as a hero. A founder starts in a garage and builds a commercial empire. We are naturally interested in stories, particularly hero stories, because they connect with our desires and emotions. We witness how heroes suffer during the journey — temptations, deceptions, romances, traps — and how they successfully mitigate risks and eventually conquer their quests. These stories promise sweetness after pain: effort pays off, suffering has meaning, and heroes eventually win. As Joseph Campbell, the author of The Hero with a Thousand Faces (1949), writes about the continuing presence of mythic journeys: “The latest incarnation of Oedipus, the continued romance of Beauty and the Beast, stand this afternoon on the corner of Forty-second Street and Fifth Avenue, waiting for the traffic light to change.” Campbell and the Architecture of the Hero’s Journey Campbell arg...

                                                                        Photo by m. on Unsplash I spent years making charts that didn’t lie. I’m not sure that made them honest. It took a presidential speech to remind me. It was decades ago, when the internet had just begun. Our only lifeline to the global financial markets was a Bloomberg Terminal — big black computer screen, white text. Every morning, the first thing I did upon arrival was sit in front of the Bloomberg Terminal to compile and translate financial news for my company and our key clients. Part of my job was to support the materials required for institutional clients, usually including nice-looking, upward-trending fund performance charts, together with the latest fund fact sheets. Sometimes — in fact, many times ...

  Photo by Phil Lindstrom on Unsplash I checked my watch: 9:05 a.m. A bit late today. “Good morning!” Andy, the sunny, bubbly security guard, waved at me from the concierge counter and buzzed the gate open. I waved back. “Thank you. Have a nice day.” It was a small exchange, ordinary enough to disappear from memory. But today it stayed with me because it marked, quietly and without ceremony, one full year since I moved back to Taiwan and began living in this riverside apartment in greater Taipei. I love this neighborhood. In the mornings, I walk along broad boulevards lined with tall trees and neatly trimmed bushes, while white butterflies drift across the pavements and various kinds of birds move through the branches. I will never get tired of seeing them. During my first few months in the building, I often checked my watch before coming or going. I wondered whether Andy had noticed my schedule. I wondered whether he had already figured out that I did not have an office job. Fo...