There are No Shortcuts to Peace

Is Talent about Flow or Grind? 

In this clip, Rory Sutherland unpacks 

The Myth of “effortless genius” — 

from Mozart’s fluency to 

Beethoven’s brute force, and 

Da Vinci’s four-hour 

bursts of brilliance.

He draws a striking line 

between Creative Process 

and Intelligence Strategy, 

showing how the best 

breakthroughs — 

in Art, Advertising 

or Espionage — 

often come OUTSIDE 

of The Process, not 

from within it.

From Tarantino’s poolside scribbles 

to Bletchley Park’s eccentric 

hiring methods, Rory argues that 

Distraction isn’t Procrastination — 

and that forcing Creativity into 

procedural-neatness is a fatal error.

M'Benga is The Butcher of J'Gal + 

He kills Dak'Rah - Star Trek Strange N...

Ambassador Dak'Rah :

I've just been informed that my time on the ship

is being cut short. We don't have as much time 

as I had hoped to get to know one another.

M'BENGA:

-- I'm okay with that.

I don't need to know any

more than I already do.

Now... Please Go Away.

Ambassador Dak'Rah :

I thought that as Victims of

the horrors of J'Gal, that...

M'BENGA:

STOP!

I KNOW why you're here.

You want me to make you feel okay.

To say you've done enough.

Ambassador Dak'Rah :

You misunderstand me.

M'BENGA:

Oh, I understand you,

General Dak'Rah, son of Ra'Ul.

Ambassador Dak'Rah :

....Perhaps you do.

I sense that We are The Same.

You're letting Your Pain cloud your Judgment.

M'BENGA:

Please.

Leave me alone.

Ambassador Dak'Rah :

Don't let hate ruin your soul.

M'BENGA:

You gave The Order!

Anyone not a Klingon

soldier is The Enemy.

You gave the order.

Ambassador Dak'Rah :

Yes, this is true.

But I've been doing the best I can

to make up for my transgressions.

Kiff didn't fight the hardest.

It was Captain Ruh'lis.

He held me back while

you made your escape.

- [BLADE SLICING, STABBING]

- [GRUNTING]

You turned me into a monster.

I told you I was there.

I am the Butcher of J'Gal.

Ambassador Dak'Rah :

No — All of this time...

All of this time, you've said nothing.

You let me take credit.

M'BENGA:

Because, unlike you, I

am ashamed of that night.

I am ashamed of my cowardice.

M'BENGA:

I looked for you.

And now here you are,

using the blood on my hands

to make yourself a saint.

Ambassador Dak'Rah :

I only wanted Starfleet to trust me.

Look at the work that I've done.

People need saints.

They need belief.

If people knew the truth,

my work would be undone.

Your work is built on lies.

You never paid for what you did.

Ambassador Dak'Rah :

When I was at my lowest,

the Federation was there.

I need it, and They need me.

I have a purpose now.

Why did you have to come?

Why couldn't you leave me alone?

Ambassador Dak'Rah :

M'Benga, I'm here to provide healing.

Please, let me have a

chance to help you heal.

M'BENGA:

I said no.

Ambassador Dak'Rah :

Don't be stupid.

M'BENGA [GRUNTING]:

You're a war criminal.

Ambassador Dak'Rah :

Don't you see it?

M'BENGA:

Get your hands off!

Ambassador Dak'Rah :

So selfish a human!

M'BENGA:

Don't!

[EXHALES WEAKLY]

I was there.

Saw the whole thing.

Rah wanted to talk, but Joseph was done.

He told Rah he didn't want to

be involved with a war criminal.

Guess hearing that set him off.

I can't believe he would

do something like this.

COMPUTER:

Commander Kiff, Klingon, deceased.

Captain Ruh'lis, Klingon, deceased.

Ambassador Dak'Rah, Klingon, deceased.

The knife belongs to the

Butcher of J'Gal, right?

Starfleet records tell us

the DNA belongs to the

three warlords he k*lled.

And I checked the logs, tracked movements.

They corroborate the timeline.

I'm just shocked

that Rah would attack him like that.

I guess it just goes to show,

no one ever really knows

what goes on in anyone's heart.

♪

Joseph.

La'An's submitting her report.

Uh, there's likely to

be an inquiry, but...

Oh, we've known each other...

- How long?

- Too long to count.

Yeah, I'd like to think,

if you did instigate the fight with Rah,

if it got away from you

somehow, you could talk to me.

I'd be on your side. We'd work it out.

I didn't start the fight, Chris.

This whole situation, it's...

it's complicated.

Is it?

Rah was living a lie.

I saw his true face.

What if I told you he m*rder*d children?

Not his men.

He did it.

What if I started the fight then?

Would that be so bad?

Even if he had secrets,

there's due process.

That's why we have tribunals.

The Diplomatic Corps knew who he was,

and they still let him

represent the Federation.

The Federation believes everyone

deserves a second chance.

What about justice?

What about the victims?

Doesn't everyone deserve

to pay for their actions?

So who decides, hmm?

Who pays and who gets redemption?

Where's the line?

[CHUCKLES] You're right, Chris.

We've known each other

for a very long time,

see eye to eye on most things.

But you haven't lived my life.

You have the privilege

of believing in what's best in people.

Me?

I happen to know there are

some things in this world

that don't deserve forgiveness.

What are you saying?

I told you, I didn't start the fight.

But I'm glad he's dead.

M'BENGA: Chief Medical

Officer's Log, stardate . .

Biobed two is working again.

At least for now.

But I know it's only a matter of time

before it shuts down again.

Some things break in a way

that can never be repaired.

Only managed.

[ELECTRICITY CRACKLES]

Yet Moses was INDEED a Prince, AND a Judge, and KNEW it

"Yet Moses was INDEED a Prince, 

AND a Judge, and KNEW it 

and thought the Hebrews 

would have understood it;  

but they stood in their own light, 

and thrust him away. 

See what base constructions malice puts 

upon the best words and actions. 

Moses, for reproving him, 

is presently charged 

with a design to kill him."

-- John Wesley

2:11 When Moses was grown he went out unto his brethren, and looked on their burdens - He looked on their burdens as one that not only pitied them, but was resolved to venture with them, and for them.

2:12 He slew the Egyptian - Probably it was one of the Egyptian task - masters, whom he found abusing his Hebrew slave. By special warrant from heaven (which makes not a precedent in ordinary cases) Moses slew the Egyptian, and rescued his oppressed brother. 

The Jew's tradition is, that he did not slay him with any weapon, but as Peter slew Ananias and Sapphira, with the word of his mouth.

2:14 He said, Who made thee a prince? - He challengeth his authority; Who made thee a prince? - A Man needs no great Authority for giving a friendly reproof; it is an Act of Kindness; yet this man needs will interpret it an Act of Dominion, and represents his reprover as imperious and assuming. 

Thus, when people are sick of good discourse, or a seasonable admonition, they will call it preaching, as if a man could not speak a word for God, and against sin, but he took too much upon him. Yet Moses was indeed a prince, and a judge, and knew it, and thought the Hebrews would have understood it; but they stood in their own light, and thrust him away. 

#Acts 7:25|,27. Intendest thou to kill me? - See what base constructions malice puts upon the best words and actions. 

Moses, for reproving him, is presently charged with a design to kill him.

2:15 Moses fled from Pharaoh - God ordered this for wise ends. 

Things were not yet ripe for Israel's deliverance. 

The measure of Egypt's iniquity was not yet full; the Hebrews were not sufficiently humbled, nor were they yet increased to such a multitude as God designed : Moses is to be farther fitted for the service, and therefore is directed to withdraw for the present, till the time to favour Israel, even the set time, come. 

God guided Moses to Midian, because the Midianites were of the seed of Abraham, and retained the worship of The True God; so that he might have not only a safe, but a comfortable settlement among them; and through this country he was afterwards to lead Israel, which, that he might do the better, he now had opportunity of acquainting himself with it. 

Hither he came, and sat down by a well; tired and thoughtful, waiting to see which way Providence would direct him. 

It was a great change with him, since he was but the other day at ease in Pharaoh's court.

(The Doctor has completed assembly of K9 Mark II, his personal mobile gun platform and computer. He blows a dog whistle and it lifts its head.)

K9: 

Master?

Tom : 

It works, K9, It works. 

Listen, I've got a little surprise for you.

K9: 

Master?

Tom : 

You and I are going away 

on holiday.

K9: 

Affirmative.

Tom : 

A nice, long holiday.

K9: 

Affirmative.

Tom : 

Would you like that, K9?

K9: 

Affirmative!

affirmative!

affirmative!

Tom : 

Shush! Halergan Three's lovely, K9. 

You'll really like it. 

Beaches, palm trees, sunshine all day. 

Hot and —

(The Tardis goes completely dark. Then the main doors start to open and golden light floods in to organ accompaniment.)

GUARDIAN [OC]: 

Doctor.

Tom : 

Yes?

GUARDIAN [OC]:

Your presence is required.

Tom : 

Look, listen, I, I,

 I don't wish to appear rude, 

but who are you?

GUARDIAN [OC]: 

Do you really need to ask, Doctor?

Tom : 

Well, only A Guardian could —

(A rumble of thunder echoes.)

Tom : 

Oh, I see. 

Well, in that case, sir…

GUARDIAN [OC]: 

You will come to no harm.

Tom : 

Just as you say.

[Guardian's abode]

(Wind chimes sound in the flat area with a white rocks as a backdrop and a few small plants around. A wicker peacock chair stands under a sunshade next to a small table carrying a decanter and glasses. A man in a white suit with a red carnation in the lapel fades into view, seated on the chair.)

The White Guardian : 

Doctor, you have been chosen 

for a vitally important task.

Tom : 

That's very flattering, sir.

The White Guardian : 

It concerns The Key to Time. 

You know of The Key to Time?

Tom : 

Well, I've heard a few stories. 

Old legends, myths, that sort of thing.

The White Guardian : 

It is no myth.

Tom : 

Sorry, sir.

The White Guardian : 

The Key to Time 

is a perfect cube, 

which maintains 

the equilibrium 

of time itself.

(A holographic image of a spinning cube appears for illustration, then fades away.)

The White Guardian : 

It consists of six segments, 

and these segments are scattered 

and hidden throughout the cosmos. 

When they are assembled into the cube, they create a power which is too dangerous for any being to possess.

Tom : 

Well hidden then, I hope, sir.

The White Guardian : 

There are times, Doctor, when the forces within the universe 

upset the balance to such an extent 

that it becomes necessary 

to stop everything.

Tom : 

Stop everything?

The White Guardian : 

For a brief moment only.

Tom : 

Ah.

The White Guardian : 

Until The Balance is restored --

Such a moment is rapidly approaching. 

These segments must be traced and returned to me 

before it is too late, before The Universe is plunged 

into Eternal Chaos.

Tom : 

Eternal Chaos?

The White Guardian : 

Eternal as you understand the term.

Tom : 

Look, I'm sure there must be plenty of 

other Time Lords who'd be delighted to --

The White Guardian : 

I have Chosen You.

Tom : 

Yes, I was afraid you'd say something like that... 

Ah! You want me to volunteer, isn't that it?

The White Guardian : 

Precisely.

Tom : 

And if I don't?

The White Guardian : 

Nothing.

Tom : 

Nothing? You mean nothing will happen to me?

The White Guardian : 

Nothing at all. Ever.

Tom : Ah. What do they look like, these segments? How will I know them?

The White Guardian : They're all disguised.

Tom : Yes, I thought they might be.

The White Guardian : 

They contain the elemental force 

of the universe. 

They can be in any shape, form or size.

Tom : 

Then how will I recognise them?

The White Guardian : 

You will be given a locator.

Tom : 

Thank you.

The White Guardian : 

And an assistant.

Tom : 

An assistant….? 

Please, sir, on an assignment like this, 

I'd much rather work alone. 

In my experience, assistants mean trouble. 

I have to protect them 

and show them and teach them 

and couldn't I just — 

couldn't I just manage with K9?

The White Guardian : 

K9 is a mere machine.

Tom : 

He is a very sensitive machine…! Sorry, sir.

The White Guardian : You will find your assistant waiting for you in the Tardis.

Tom : 

Very well, sir. If you insist.

The White Guardian : One final thing, Doctor.

Tom : Yes?

The White Guardian : 

I am the White Guardian. 

In order to maintain the universal balance, there is also a Black Guardian, 

and he also requires the Key to Time, 

but for a different purpose. 

An evil purpose. 

He must not get it. 

Doctor, at all costs, 

you must prevent that.

Tom : 

How am I to prevent that?

The White Guardian : Beware the Black Guardian.

Tom : Beware The Black Guardian.

The White Guardian : 

Beware. Beware.

(The Guardian picks up his glass of green wine and fades away.)

[Tardis]

Tom : 

I'm so sorry, K-9, 

The Holiday's off.

ROMANA [OC]: 

Doctor?

Tom : 

(sotto) 

That's the new assistant.

(Tall, brunette, statuesque, aloof, wearing a floorlength white dress fastened only at the waist, and her hair held up by a tiara. Everyone welcome Mary Tamm)

ROMANA: 

My Name is Romanadvoratnelundar.

Tom : 

I'm so sorry about that. Is there anything we can do?

ROMANA: The President of the Supreme Council sent me.

(That should be the Doctor, but he's forgotten all about the last story.)

ROMANA: 

I was told to give you this --

(Romana hands over a rod.)

Tom : 

What's this?

ROMANA: According to my instructions, 

it's the core to The Key of Time.

Tom : 

Ah.

ROMANA: 

Very exciting, isn't it?

Tom :

 Yes, I suppose it must be for someone as young and inexperienced as you are.

ROMANA: I may be inexperienced, but I did graduate from the Academy with a triple first.

Tom : I suppose you think we should be impressed by that, too?

ROMANA: 

Well, it's better than scraping through with fifty one percent at the second attempt.

Tom : That information is confidential! That President. I should have thrown him to the Sontarans when I had the chance.

Unk.

The way Campbell explained it, 
Young Men need a  
Secondary Father 
to finish raising them.




Beyond their Biological Father, 
they need a surrogate, 
traditionally 

a  
minister 

or a 
coach 

or a 
military officer.




The floatsam and jetsam of a generation 
washed up on the beach of last resort.



That's why street gangs are so appealing.   


They send you men out, 
like Knights on Quests 
 to hone their skills and improve themselves.



And all the TRADITIONAL Mentors -- forget it.



Men are presumptive predators. 

They're leaving Teaching in droves.


Religious Leaders  
are pariahs.


Sports Coaches 
are stigmatized as odds-on pedophiles.



Even The Military is sketchy with sexual goings-on.

A Generation of Apprentices 
Without Masters.