In 2020, I started blogging on Dreamwidth, a clone of Livejournal, in order to participate in a spirituality community there. Most of the entries on this page are collected from my Dreamwidth blog.
I am always surprised when people say life is short. This has not been my experience at all: it is long; so, so long.
Usually, it seems that when a diviner describes a reading, the more detailed it is, the higher our esteem for the diviner. I'd like to argue for the opposite.
In information theory, we speak of entropy as "how much information a message contains." This is actually a fairly complex concept, related to what it even means to communicate. But for the purposes of this exercise, we're just going to be talking about bits, which refers to the amount of information in a binary digit (a zero or one).
Geomantic figures are literally made out of bits: they contain one bit apiece for the head, neck, body, and feet. Since the four Mothers determine a geomantic chart, and each Mother (being a geomantic figure) contains four bits, then each geomantic chart contains sixteen bits of entropy. Great.
When a diviner gives a description of what a geomantic chart means, this conveys information, too! But English is far, far more complicated than geomancy, and so it's harder to determine how much information is contained in a given amount of prose. Experiments have been done and find English to contain 0.6–1.3 bits of entropy per letter, or (since there are, on average, 4.8 characters per English word) 2.6–6.2 bits of entropy per word.
This means that a geomantic chart is equivalent in information content to 3–6 words of English (!), or an extremely short sentence. This is the best we can do if we translate a chart into English. But, as Okakura notes, "translation is always a treason," and it's unlikely we can fully convey the same information so tersely. But should we not try? Limitation is the source of inspiration. Antoine de Saint-Exupéry famously said, after all, that perfection is attained not when nothing more can be added, but when nothing more can be taken away. And is not the time spent carefully paring down a reading, focusing on the essential and disposing of the superfluous, a form of meditation?
Being able to read greater and greater depth from a chart is the mark of a great geomancer, sure, but I think that it is the mark of a truly masterful geomancer to convey that depth as tersely as possible. How difficult this is, when one's audience is not literate in geomancy!
I make an effort on this little blog to do my best in a paragraph or two. It is my hope that, as I gain in experience, I can do so in a sentence or two.
I've noticed, over and over again, that when I do a reading for a time period or situation, repeat figures always seem to indicate a single event with far-reaching consequences. For some reason, when I did a year-ahead reading on New Year's Day, I didn't take much note of Carcer in the VIII, X, and XII. I should have!
I think we spiritual-minded people place too much emphasis on the role of karma, and too little on the role of destiny. Certainly, in the dozens of questions I've asked of the (very patient) geomantic spirits, karma and past lives have never been the answer, while destiny and future lives often are. (And, of course, many things simply have no deeper significance at all.)
The first spiritual event I can remember happened just after I started college. I was working for one of the departments and was asked to deliver a package to a destination around half a mile away. It was October and the weather had just begun to turn cold, and on this particular day it was extremely windy, and since I had just "left the nest" and was on my own for the first time, I was awfully underprepared for the weather (and many other things). So I had set out and was buffeted by the severe winds, so strong I could barely walk, and so cold that I was chilled to the bone. Normally I could make this walk in ten minutes, but with the wind it was taking me three times that. When I was halfway to my destination, I was stressed enough that I called out (to nobody in particular), "Would you please just give it a rest!?" and immediately the wind stopped dead and was so calm that the leaves on the trees didn't even move. I was shocked! I sheepishly murmured, "Thanks," and continued my errand. The wind remained still until I had finished the delivery and returned: I opened the door and a massive blast of wind, as if to tease me, kicked me over the threshold. Ever since I turned my back on a materialist worldview some years ago, I have wondered if this was literally a spirit: now that I have the tools to find out, I figured I'd ask.
I'm quickly-fading Fortuna Minor in the I, while spirits generally are peaceful Albus in the VIII. The VIII perfects to the I through a conjunction in the II, indicating that yes, a spirit did come over and make themselves known. Albus also occupies the IV, hinting perhaps that the spirit was a local nature spirit. The reception of the I and VIII is Cauda Draconis: this figure indicates commitment to a predetermined course of action, suggesting I was bound to bump into the spiritual sooner or later. This story is mirrored in the court: my world (the RW) is materialistic Tristitia; the outside world (the LW) is Caput Draconis, the figure of wide horizons and many opportunities; thus, the overall situation (the J) is Conjunctio, the figure of contact.
Back in 2012, my wife was working as a live-in nanny and we lived in a one-room studio apartment off of her employer's house. This was out in the country, amidst woods, farms, and estates. It was a Friday evening in September, and after a long work week I was interested in some quiet conversation with my wife, but she was intent on watching a movie. Movies cause me anxiety and I found the noise of it unbearable, and with no place to escape to in the apartment, I went for a long walk. It was a waning quarter moon with crystal-clear skies, so easily bright enough to see by. After an hour or two, I started to hear music: very faintly at first, but louder as I continued. It was a flute, beautifully playing some classical piece that I did not recognize. I thought this strange and interesting, so I followed the song down the road until I realized that it seemed to be coming from the woods. I stepped off the road and after a few minutes followed the music to its apparent source: a fairy-ring. I walked around it and the music seemed to be coming from, and not beyond, the fairy-ring! I listened to the music for a few minutes longer, and considered the ring curiously; but even a person as stupid as myself knows better than to step into a fairy-ring under such circumstances, and I was starting to get a bit alarmed, so I turned back and hurried home. I swear the music followed me for perhaps a quarter-mile before giving up and fading into the distance. I have always wondered what might have become of me, had I stepped within the ring!
For context, let me note that I was convinced there was no supernatural element to this story at all: there were several ritzy country estates in the area I lived, and I figured that one of them must have been having a party that night. Perhaps I had even had a drink or two before going for my walk—I can't remember! But, this little journal has a lot of affirmative geomancy examples, and I figured I would include this as a negative one. So imagine my surprise to see that it perfects, and strongly!
I'm represented by tense Cauda Draconis in the I. (This is also a traditional indicator that I'm already full of my own preconceptions.) Spirits generally are represented by Populus in the VIII, indicative of a crowd or gathering. This chart perfects in three ways: a conjunction from the I to VII (indicating that I stumbled into meeting them), a mutation between the II and VII greatly strengthened by company simple between the I and II (indicating that a third party—an advisor, very closely aligned with me, and also a partner—had a plan to make this happen and took an active role in doing so), and a mutation between the XII and VII (indicating that a second third party—a limiting or restricting factor and also a partner—was being disruptive to me and also took an active role in events). I take these to be my guardian angel (with whom I am now close) and my wife (who, on this night, was certainly frustrating me!), respectively. Populus is also in the IX, indicative of music (as a skill). As a cute aside, Rubeus in the IV speaks to the disruption I felt at home, while Albus in the III speaks to the peace and solitude I found on my walk.
The court is straightforward: I (RW) wanted companionship (Conjunctio), but external factors (LW) pushed me to go for a walk instead (Via), resulting (J) in my needing and getting some space (Carcer), having the personal effect (S) of widening my horizons (Caput Draconis).
I was reading this passage from The Book of Talismans:
Most scientists are agreed that Pearls are formed in the endeavour of certain bivalves to obtain relief from the irritation caused by some foreign substance which has penetrated the shell and which the Oyster, by covering with a pearly secretion, forms into a beautiful gem. The idea that Pearls are symbolic of tears arose from this fact, and illustrates the old adage that the most noble achievements have their origin in painful and enduring effort.
It caused me to realize that, just as precious pearls are formed of grit and water, so too is Fortuna Major is the sum of Tristitia and Albus: the greatest blessings are bestowed by suffering and reflection. We tend to think of Fortuna Major as the most positive figure in geomancy, but it is not so simple as that, I think.
The other day one of my spiritual friends said to me, "You shouldn't think of life as being in a prison. It's more like being in a train car: sure, you can't move around as freely as you'd like, but you're certainly going somewhere, and quickly, and for a reason."
There was once a dog who so adored her master that, upon seeing Venus one morning, she wished to be human so that she might more completely love him. Venus took pity upon the dog and granted her wish, changing her into a dazzlingly beautiful girl. When her master saw her, he was so smitten with her that they were married at once. That night, however, in the midst of lovemaking, the howling of dogs sent the dog-girl into a frenzy and she ran to the window and began to howl with them. Her master, seeing this, wailed, "Oh, what have I done!? She has the body of a girl, yet she still has the soul of a dog!"
Seeing her master's sorrow, the dog-girl again beseeched Venus, wishing to bring happiness to her master rather than pain. Venus, not knowing what to do, asked Juno for help. Juno went to the master's house and said to him, "It is true that your bride has the soul of a dog, but so also does she have a dog's heart: her love and faithfulness for you are boundless. If you keep your vows to her, then I will bless your marriage with joy." And so the master agreed to try.
The dog-girl never overcame her canine habits, but her master did his best to overlook these, and in time came to love her as much as she loved him; and so Venus and Juno gave them many happy years together.
Nature cannot be changed, but it can be accepted.
I think I finally figured out why life passes so very slowly: not only does "a watched pot never boil," but if the one watching it grows ever hungrier while they wait, it will seem to take longer still.
He who knows what iron is, knows the attributes of Mars.
He who knows Mars, knows the qualities of iron.
(Paracelsus.)
Gold is valuable, but it cannot equal iron in its multiplicity of uses.
(Yoshida Kenko, Tsurezuregusa.)
One must be compelled to wear fetters of iron, and yet many wear the weightier fetters of gold by choice. But note that the pain of iron often compels one to seek release from it, while the delight of gold often buries one ever deeper in chains. Because of this, wise men have said that pain is greater than pleasure, for it induces one to wisdom.
(Porphyry to Marcella.)
You should consider it a success if you can rise above your limits, rather than a failure if you can't.
I've been meditating on subjectivity and objectivity lately, courtesy of an exchange with commenter @barefootwisdom. We're all taught as children that there is such a thing as objective Truth, and that even though we are limited by our subjective senses, the Truth can be discovered through the scientific method. In the last week, though, I've come to think that even a subjective universe can be consistent enough to admit the use of the scientific method; and that if we don't need to resort to the notion of objectivity in order to model the universe, then (by Ockham's Razor) we shouldn't.
(Why, then, is the concept taught? Presumably to propagandize children into an implicit belief in a mechanistic universe in which gods and goddesses have no place.)
That's all good enough for me, but I thought I might be better served by asking someone less bound by a lack of perspective as I am.
I am represented by Cauda Draconis in the the I (a traditional indication that I already know, or think I know, the answer and am shopping for a confirmation), while the concept of objectivity is represented by Amissio (the figure of loss) in the IX (of deep knowledge). The I perfects to the IX by a conjunction through the X (strengthened slightly by company capitular). The I is in planetary company with Rubeus in the II (of things held closely, indicating my prior worldview), while Amissio also occupies the V (of pleasures) and VII (of the being I'm asking my question to). Interestingly, these three figures (Rubeus, Cauda Draconis, and Amissio) also make up the court.
All told, I think this says: "Yes, for whatever it's worth, I agree with you and think that the world is more fun and interesting if you drop the concept altogether. You were misinstructed as a child, but you managed to figure things out for yourself in the end."
As good an illustration of the nature of the geomantic figure Cauda Draconis occurred in my living room just now:
Daughter. Mommy, we're going to play hair salon. I'm going to shave your head. Do you want your head shaved?
Wife. No.
Daughter. Too bad, I'm going to shave it anyway. BZZZZZZZ
One of the staple practices mentioned in The Art and Practice of Geomancy is casting daily (or weekly, or monthly, or yearly, or life) charts, to see the influences coming to bear for the time period in question. I've been doing this for a couple years now, and I've cast several life charts for people, and I thought I'd share a bit about how I do it.
After I cast the chart, the first thing I do is link up all the houses that share figures by occupation, company demi-simple, or company compound. (When I say "link up," I mean literally draw connecting lines on the chart between these houses. Company must exist in this chart for such figures to be connected, so for example Laetitia and Tristitia are not linked in all charts, but only in those where they are in appropriate houses. You'll note that company capitular isn't considered: it appears to be too weak to matter much.) The figures of the court are considered to be houses for this purpose, and the Witnesses in particular are considered to have potential company between them (as they are houses which get added together). Houses that are linked indicate both emphasis (e.g. these are more important) and shared events affecting multiple facets of life (e.g. a link between the V and the IX indicates some single event affecting both children and education, say). Be sure to pay attention to the normal meanings of company when considering these: the nature of the company is usually important to the meaning of a linked group as a whole.
Particular attention should be paid to:
Anywhere the first house is linked to: these indicate a focus of attention for the time period.
Anywhere the twelfth house is linked to: these indicate the greatest challenges for the time period.
Anywhere the Judge is linked to: these indicate the factors most salient in affecting the time period.
Any links involving many houses (and the more houses, the more attention should be paid to them), as these indicate something of particular significance. (Enough houses and there may be significance beyond the time period, as well.)
(I don't tend to pay much attention to the cardines or aspects, either in time-period charts or generally. If you find them useful, you might look for those as well.)
Beyond that, I tend to look at the court for the overall picture of the time period, and then go house-by-house to determine the factors that shape each facet of life. I write down predictions for each, and at the end of the time period, I'll go back over these to assess what happened and how well I did. (I find that the charts are 90–95% accurate in hindsight, but I tend to only get something like 60% ahead of time, though I've been getting a lot better with practice.)
It helps to keep a journal with a page for each house, and note special meanings when figures or links relate to that house. An example that I've seen again and again is that Carcer in the twelfth house is suggestive of insomnia.
Finally, it's worth noting that even groups that aren't connected together may be related... but the only way I've found to follow these is intuition. (For example, that Rubeus in the V may be the very reason for that Carcer the IX... can't study if you're hung over!)
Let's look at an example, a daily chart of mine from last month:
As noted, I first cast the chart, and then draw lines linking each house that share figures either directly or through company. This resulted in three "groups:" Carcer in the IV (home), XII (difficulties), and J (overall picture of the day); Puella in the XI (friends) and RW (internal factors of the day); and the figures of Mars in the III (communication), VII (spouse), VIII (spirits), and X (goals). This is a pretty difficult chart, with nine of the fifteen houses containing malefic figures, most of which are tied together into groups. One would expect the day to be challenging!
The I occupies nowhere else, so I shouldn't expect to have any particular focus for the day. I have a very difficult relationship with Acquisitio: I find the figures of Jupiter confusing, and this one is no exception. As a figure of Jupiter, it should be generally beneficial, but I've found it to be almost universally troubling in my readings, indicative especially of having too much of something or hanging on to things that I should let go of.
And speaking of troubling, the XII is actually quite a significant house in this chart: it contains Carcer, which is pretty strong in the XII house (as both the figure and the house are about limitations), and furthermore Carcer occupies three houses total, including the J! This simply says that I'm going to be isolated today, especially from my home life, and that it'll be the single most defining aspect of the day. Naturally, this was a work day, I don't much enjoy my job, and my workload for the day was crushing: so I simply had to buckle down and grind it out. (Indeed, I didn't get it all done until late evening, went straight to bed after, and had great difficulty sleeping despite my exhaustion due to melancholy.)
The next significant thing to look at is the group of Puer and Rubeus. To be quite honest, I was pretty baffled when I saw this; given the presence of the III and X, I assumed it had something to do with work (and it kinda did, given the way I had to plow through everything), but the links to the VII and VIII, themselves in company, made no sense. In fact, when I reviewed the chart before bed, I was no closer to a conclusion. I only learned what it meant the day after: my wife complained of difficulty sleeping because "something in the sky was watching her." And, look: upset Rubeus in the VII (for my wife) and turned IX (of dreams), in company with combative Puer in the VIII (of spirits) and X (of things above). Sensible in hindsight, though now I pay attention to such things! (Luckily, the following day, my wife was in company with Puella in the VIII, and slept great.)
That Puella group refers to friendly and pleasant conversation with a female co-worker, who I tend to counsel: this put me into a generally helpful and accommodating frame of mind, which helped me be constructive at work, but also probably made me bite off more than I could chew.
And, of course, one should pay attention to each individual house. I won't go into each, but as an example, the meaning of Tristitia (sorrow) in the V (of pleasures) simply means it won't be a very fun day (not surprising, in light of the above).
And there you have it! I cast one of these every year (on New Year's Day), every month (on the first), and every day (in the morning when I get up), and I review them again at the end of the period (New Year's Eve, the 31st, or before bed). I also put my daily charts on a scrap of paper so I can carry it around with me and review it throughout the day as needed. I think nothing has helped me understand geomancy more than the constant and consistent practice these have afforded!
It occurs to me that, if your expectations are low enough, literally all things are "too good to be true."
Earlier, I was having a conversation with my angel:
Me. Do you know why [X] is so?
Angel. Yes, but I'm prohibited from telling you.
Me. Why are you prohibited?
Angel. I can't tell you that, either. I'm sorry, but it's better this way: it would cause you to despair.
There are also many things that I can't know because I lack the capacity for comprehending them. It is difficult to keep to a path when one is blind! And yet what choice do we have?
The question often pops up on @conjunctio as to who we are conversing with when we perform divination.
According to Plato's Symposium, Socrates believed it to be one's δαίμων (that is, genius, guardian spirit or angel, etc.): "From [the agency of genii] proceed all the arts of divination, and all the science of priests, with respect to sacrifices, initiations, incantations, and in short everything which relates to oracles and enchantments. The deity holds no direct intercourse with man; but, by this means, all the converse and communications between the gods and men, whether asleep or awake, takes place; and he who is wise in these things is a man particularly guided by his genius."
According to C. H. Josten, by contrast, Robert Fludd believed it to be one's mens (the unconscious mind or higher self) acting through the media of the anima intellectualis, intellectus, or ratio (the conscious mind or lower self), in the same way that a master exercises authority over servants: "The servant, in carrying out his master's command, does not know what the intentions and secret motives of his master are. [...] Mens in man is of the same essentia as mens divina. On a smaller scale (in virtute minori) mens humana may, therefore, perform the same actions as mens divina."
For my own part, I am quite convinced by my own mystical experiences that I am in communication with my guardian angel.
Even after a few years, I'm always fascinated when geomancy bonks me upside the head with actionable information. Yesterday, I got this chart:
I always look carefully to the I as "what should my focus be?" for the day, and here, we have Fortuna Major (a challenge that'll work out) occupying the II (money), VI (services), and XII (unknown enemies). I figure that "services related to money" implies "credit card", and so I check my credit card statement and—lo! and behold!—somebody's made fraudulent charges to it.
Dispute the charges, cancel the card, and everything's fine. But would I have thought to check, had I not been warned?
There's lore out there that two people shouldn't share the same divination tools. I can confirm this from experience: my wife and I are fairly well-aligned, but her emotions and energies are so much more intense than mine that, if I attempt a reading with her Tarot deck, I often get her last reading, repeated.
I very much dislike the body I inhabit, but I was mulling this over today and it occurred to me: does anyone ever care how well a raft works? No, it is a ramshackle device built for a temporary purpose; and once one has crossed over the river, it is either taken apart or discarded. So it is with us, and if our bodies barely work or cause us great pain, what does it matter? They only have to hold together until their purpose is fulfilled.
It seems we have some gardeners and craftspeople here on Dreamwidth! Let me briefly change gears from spirituality and talk about booze.
(Alan Watts used to joke about "a scholarly Chinese" who would say, "if you're going to meditate, you should have a couple of martinis first, since it'll speed up your practice by about six months!" But it really is a joke: wine does not help spirituality, in my experience.)
I have lived in upstate New York for most of my life. One of my side projects for the last decade or so has been to make wine from as many native plants as possible and catalogue which of them are worthwhile. I even planted an orchard to this end, but the plants are yet young and I will be moving before they are mature enough to harvest from. Still, I thought I might share what I've learned in case it's useful to anyone else. (Anyway, most of these plants grow all over North America, so perhaps you have them in your area, too!)
If you haven't made wine before, I recommend it, even if you have to buy the ingredients: it can be as easy or as hard, as simple or as complicated as you want, but even at the low end the result is rewarding—the results will be better and cheaper than you can buy at the wine store! The only things to be watch out for is that you will be washing things a lot and that you will be waiting a lot. Oh well, cleanliness is next to godliness, and the best time to plant a tree is twenty years ago.
There is a vast selection of books on winemaking, and I've read dozens of them! Let me save you some trouble and recommend that you buy John Wright's Booze: it's by far the best book on the topic. (The one downside is that it's all in metric units. Get yourself a kitchen scale and a calculator.)
If you've never made wine before, the easiest and best thing to start with is (if you live in the Northeast) maple wine or (if you live anywhere else) mead. They're quick, easy, fool-proof, and simply some of the best wines there are. A good recipe is available in John Gorman's 1992 article from Mead Digest #19.
If you have access to elder trees, by far my favorite wine to make and drink is elderflower champagne. It takes some work, but it's worth it. Just be sure to use heavy-duty bottles: I have made a few grenades!
Below is a table of all the wines made from native or locally grown/foraged plants that I've tried:
| Plant | Verdict | Notes |
|---|---|---|
| Maple Syrup (Acer saccharum) | A | Quick, easy, fool-proof. Like mead, but better. Use dark or very dark syrup. Can also be jacked to make a rum-like beverage. |
| Serviceberry (Amelanchier × lamarckii) | ? | I planted a small orchard of these. The fruit is good—like a cross between apples and blueberries—but birds adore them above all other fruits and will strip trees bare before they're even ripe. Sadly, I'll move before I get enough to make into wine. I'm told it's fair on it's own, but excellent if mixed 50–50 with rhubarb wine. |
| Pumpkin (Cucurbita pepo) | D | Fussy and uninspiring. |
| Wild Strawberry (Fragaria virginiana) | F | Like medicine. |
| Apple (Malus domestica) | varies | Quality depends on fruit: favor cider apples, wild apples, dessert apples in that order. (It is not worth making cider from dessert apples alone.) |
| Fire Cherry (Prunus pensylvanica) | F | Unpalatable: too much tannin, even when mixed with European cherries. Makes a good vodka infusion, though: use as a mixer, especially with elderflower liqueur. |
| Wild Plum (Prunus nigra) | F | Like medicine. |
| Blackberry (Rubus spp.) | A | Easy and reliable. Like grape wine. |
| Elderflower (Sambucus canadensis) | A | My favorite wine. Labor-intensive but reliable. Like champagne and every bit as good. |
| Elderberry (Sambucus canadensis) | A | Easy and reliable. Like grape wine. |
| Dandelion (Taraxacum officinale) | B | Labor-intensive and fussy! Tastes like bottled midsummer. Unique. |
| Highbush Cranberry (Viburnum trilobum) | F | Stinky socks. I have only attempted with wild specimens; there are cultivars that may be better. |
| Ginger (Zingiber officinale) | A | Best hot or mulled, curled up in front of a fireplace. |
For any given complete symbolic system, there is a spiritual path corresponding to each symbol. So we might classify different spiritual paths by which symbols they correspond to in that system. (Naturally, since there are many symbolic systems, there are many such methods of classification.)
Let's take an example and look at the classical elements.
The path of fire is a masculine path involving drive, will, and transmutation. I imagine many of those who found their way to this diary from Ecosophia would easily recognize this as where magical paths belong.
The path of air is a masculine path of interaction, communication, and dispersion. This is perhaps the path most foreign to me—my natal chart contains no air at all, and so I find airy things bewildering—but I imagine it's what the Bhagavad Gita refers to when it's talking about the karma yoga: a path of service to others.
The path of water is a feminine path of purity, reflection, and dissolution. This is the path I would tend to associate with the image of an anchorite or monk: one who separates themselves from the world, studies wisdom traditions, meditates, etc.
The path of earth is a feminine path of embodiment, effort, and acceptance. I would associate this path with mystical traditions that emphasize good works, and also with what's been called "The Path of the Hearthfire" or of "lay monkdom:" doing your mundane work to the fullest.
(I'm certainly being a bit sloppy here; these are very large bins and we have few widespread spiritual images to draw from in the West; I'm also mostly typing it out as a reminder to myself for something to circle back to later, so I'm writing quickly rather than deeply.)
One can do a similar exercise with any other complete system: the astrological planets or signs of the zodiac (or both together, if you want a year or two of meditation themes), the geomantic figures, the ba gua or I Ching hexagrams, the Tarot, etc. I think the exercise is worthwhile, since it helps one recognize and identify what kinds of spiritual teachings or methods—and there are a lot to draw from, many of which are marketed as The One True Way™—are likely to be of benefit to one's own path.
You can't make a cup out of water.
In the study of algorithms, one is always, always concerned with efficiency: is this algorithm the best possible? But, of course, the question is: "best at what?" And what we find over and over again is that it is impossible to be the best at everything.
Usually, one cares about how fast your algorithm is, or how short your algorithm is, or how easy to change your algorithm is, or how didactic your algorithm is. But, often, improvement at any of these comes at a cost to all of the others! So one must be very clear on what it is they care about, and why they pursue it.
Yesterday, @temporaryreality made an offhand comment about pursuing a balanced life, which was a surprising goal to me: would not one rather pursue being optimal at something? But then I realize that, often, one who is designing an algorithm is not yet sure how it will be used, and it is extremely wasteful to try to make your program fast if it is only rarely run, or didactic if nobody is ever going to look at it. We call this kind of thing premature optimization. It's considered good to start by making your algorithm a jack-of-all-trades unless you're sure exactly how it's going to be used.
And so @temporaryreality is quite right that pursuing balance is a valuable goal. Indeed, I think it should be the default goal, for most people, most of the time.
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