On a whim, I picked up a copy of the book The Creative Act: A Way of Being at First Light Books in Austin, Texas. I hadn’t heard of the book before, but as I skimmed the first chapter, I was struck by the way the author wrote about the creative act as integral to so many pursuits in life beyond art-making and other things we typically think of as “creative work”. This resonated deeply with my own conception of programming, and engineering more broadly, as a creative pursuit with at least as much in common with artistic work as with the natural sciences, so I felt like I had to pick up a copy.
So far, I’ve really enjoyed the book. As I was reading, I decided to look up the author, Rick Rubin, because I hadn’t heard his name before. Apparently, he’s’ music producer, who worked on a lot of famous records. Reading through his Wikipedia article, I thought this passage was particularly interesting:
In 2022, Black Sabbath bassist Geezer Butler said of Rubin’s production of the band’s 2013 album 13: “Some of it I liked, some of it I didn’t like particularly. It was a weird experience, especially with being told to forget that you’re a heavy metal band. That was the first thing [Rubin] said to us. He played us our very first album, and he said, ‘Cast your mind back to then when there was no such thing as heavy metal or anything like that, and pretend it’s the follow-up album to that,’ which is a ridiculous thing to think.”
— from “Rick Rubin” on Wikipedia
Although I can imagine how this must have felt strange to Butler, who just wanted to record a new record, I actually think the idea Rubin was getting at with this was valuable and worthy of thought. right. Maybe it is a ridiculous thing to think, in some ways, to imagine a work existing in a vacuum without the cultural context around it, but it’s an incredibly useful exercise to return to the blank canvas like that: you can’t make the record that creates the genre of heavy metal, if heavy metal music already exists. There’s an idea in Zen Buddhism, shoshin (初心), or “beginner’s mind”, which refers to the concept of approaching a practice or activity as though we are doing it for the first time, even if we’ve done it many times before. In doing so, we can leave behind our preconceived ideas and biases, and approach the practice with an open mind. I’m pretty sure Rubin was drawing on this idea from Zen thinkers when he gave his advice to Black Sabbath.
I think there’s something similar we ought to do in software design. Software is a field where we do so much thinking about the software that already exists, and there very good are reasons for this. A lot of the time, the new systems we create have to interact with existing systems. or, they exist in dialogue with their antecedents: so many software systems are created as replacements for earlier ones, and we think about them as “a better version of X”, or “a version of X but with support for Y and Z”, or “a faster X”, etc.
It seems to me that there can be a lot of value in approaching these things as a blank slate. Instead of thinking “I’m going to make a better version of Kubernetes”, for example, we can instead try to imagine the system we would design if Kubernetes didn’t exist. By practicing this, perhaps we can avoid the baggage of our predecessors and their assumptions when we are creating something that exists in a new context with different assumptions.
This is particularly valuable when the constraints and assumptions of the new system have changed substantially relative to its predecessors. As a (somewhat contrived) example, the C programming language famously requires forward declarations: a name, such as for a function or data type, must be defined earlier in the source code file than where it is referenced. There is a reason for this: early compilers, such as the first C compilers, were one-pass compilers. They would iterate over the source code file a single time, emitting the compiled machine code as they traversed the source. This design was a direct result of the limitations of the computers these compilers ran on: with limited memory, there may not be enough space to store the large intermediate representations required by multi-pass compilers. Modern systems, on the other hand, have plenty of memory, and almost all modern compilers are multi-pass. Someone designing a new language who had only written C might not recognize that the requirement for forward declarations in C only exists due to the hardware limitations of 1970s minicomputers. By deliberately forgetting some of what they know about C, on the other hand, the language designer can approach the problem without carrying forward design choices that were deliberately made due to constraints and requirements that no longer apply to the new language.
“In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert’s mind there are few.” — “Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind” by Shunryū Suzuki
On the other hand, though, it’s important to learn from prior art and existing solutions. Both from their successes, and the techniques they used to solve the same problems, and from the things they get wrong, the ways those existing solutions are insufficient. I do think there’s kind of a common attitude in software of “we don’t need to learn about the things that have come before us, and we can just build new layers in the stack on top of them”. This way of thinking often results in people reinventing the wheel, and frequently making the same mistakes over and over again. For example, we might want to be able to write highly concurrent software, and find ourselves limited by the overhead of OS thread context switches. Instead of improving the OS scheduler and optimizing context switch performance, we might choose to implement green threads…and end up having to solve basically the same scheduling problems as the underlying OS scheduler. Perhaps it was necessary to use green threads — maybe we can’t feasibly make context switches any faster — so this might be a valid design choice. But, if we’re going to implement our own scheduler in userspace, it would almost certainly be a mistake to not learn about the scheduling techniques used in the underlying OS. Otherwise, we might make some naive mistakes that the kernel developers already made and learned from.
So, maybe we should first do some ideation on a blank slate, without looking at existing systems, and then look at what other systems do. We can come up with potential design ideas untainted by prior art, and then compare and contrast our ideas with what others have done. And, I think there’s maybe a difference between learning about and understanding your dependencies, and learning about other software that solves the same problem.
In some ways, practicing beginner’s mind is kind of what James Munns and I are doing with mnemOS, our hobby operating system. We’re not trying to build a clone of Linux that can run any POSIX-compatible binary. we’re doing a new thing, with very different assumptions…which is a freedom afforded by being a pure hobby project. We have ended up being influenced by a lot of ideas from throughout the history of computing, like Erlang, microkernels, Forth, et cetera. but a lot of these ideas aren’t really part of the current crop of modern operating systems. It’s kind of as though we aren’t really looking at our contemporaries (like Linux), but we are looking at our shared antecedents. Instead of writing mnemOS in a post-Linux world, we are kind of pretending we are writing mnemOS starting from the same place where Linus started writing Linux. And maybe that’s sort of like what Rick Rubin meant about “pretending heavy metal doesn’t exist”: you don’t pretend that rock’n’roll doesn’t exist, or that the guitar doesn’t exist, because you can’t create the first heavy metal album without those things. But, you do try to imagine you’re starting over from the same place where heavy metal actually did start.
I guess the concluding thought here is just that there’s value in cultivating beginner’s mind in software development…but there’s also just as much value in being able to learn from our field’s rich history. There’s a time and a place for both, and the best designer is one who is able to both approach the world without biases and look to the past for inspiration. Balance in all things.