The Mystery Of Wordle

Over the past couple weeks I, like much of the people I follow on the internet, have also become addicted to a new online game called Wordle.

The rules are simple. You have six chances to guess a five-letter word. Each time you guess a word your chosen letters change colors to let you know how you’re doing, either grey, yellow, or green.

Grey means that letter is not in the mystery word. Yellow means the letter is in the word but not in the correct position. Green means the letter is a correct guess and in the correct position.

There are no timers, no hints, no ads, no excess. It’s just up to you to puzzle over the letters you have until the correct answer occurs to you.

As I’ve written about before, I’m on a never-ending quest to add more mystery back into my life. I’ve embraced analog tech, deleted social media, limited screen time, and more. It’s increased my curiosity and forced me to appreciate the little things in life. And Wordle is the newest source of mystery in my daily routine.

The mystery word is not where Wordle’s mysteries end. The game is also limited to one puzzle per day. You can’t purchase more games or unlock more levels, you simply have to wait for the next day to tackle the next puzzle. I think part of the reason Wordle has gone viral is that people are longing for a slower, more thoughtful experience in their life, both online and off. In a world of constant information and overstimulation, having to wait 24 hours is wonderful.

Additionally, the creator of Wordle has turned sharing your results into a mystery as well. Your guesses are simply shown as colored squares in a Tetris-esque array of cascading blocks. For instance, here’s what my progression of guesses looked like just the other day:

I’ve read many articles about Wordle over the past few weeks but many of them seem to miss the mark. People are trying to optimize the game by suggesting strategies for the best possible first word, the best possible combination of letters, an algorithm to decode the puzzle, and more. It’s an all-too-common occurrence online when many people come together in a desire to streamline an experience instead of appreciate it for what it is.

Part of what makes Wordle (and on a greater level, mystery) so worthwhile is the feeling of not knowing. I love going into something without having a clue where it’s headed. It could be a TV show, a good book, a museum, a new album, or a simple word puzzle. It’s why I’m obsessed with puzzles, codes, the Hardy Boys, Sherlock Holmes, David Fincher, David Lynch, Alfred Hitchcock, Agatha Christie, Orson Welles, and more. I want to be taken on a ride and I don’t need to know where I’m headed to appreciate it.

When I play Wordle I prefer to let a new word pop in my head instead of just using the same word each time. Maybe it’s something I heard during the day or see in my current environment. It doesn’t matter. I just go with it and see where it takes me. It’s a good life lesson — sometimes you just need to get going if you want to end up anywhere at all.

If you aren’t playing Wordle yet I think you’ll enjoy it. And if you already are I hope you appreciate the mystery just as much as I do. It’s a good feeling when something allows us to learn, enjoy, think, and relax so we can appreciate the small things. All of which would be great starting words for today’s puzzle.

But I’ll leave that up to you.

My New Camera

As part of my ongoing quest for more mystery, I bought myself a Super 8 camera this summer. It’s a Canon 310xl and my new favorite thing.

It asks nothing of me.

There are no notifications, no alerts, and no messages to respond to. There’s no LCD screen, so I’m less focused on what I’m shooting and more focused on enjoying the moment.

That being said, shooting with Super 8 is quite the undertaking.

First you have to find a camera. I found mine on Etsy. I’d had it bookmarked for awhile and finally pulled the trigger. It’s been refurbished and I knew when I ordered it that it was still in working order. It took over a week for my camera to arrive.

Then, you have to learn to use it. The old manual wasn’t too helpful, but I got the gist of it. When you don’t have an LCD screen to check your work, though, it’s hard to know if you’re getting it right. That means that every single roll of film will be a learning experience.

Oh yeah, about that film… Every roll of film costs $38. I’m shooting on Kodak VISION3 50D Color Negative Film. (Yes, they still make it!) Each roll of film is 50 feet long, which comes out to about three and a half minutes of video.

Since you can only shoot a few minutes worth of footage you have to prioritize what you want to capture. It’s not like your phone where you can shoot bursts of however many photos you want and send them to the cloud. There’s an importance to what you choose to shoot because you can feel the dollars moving through the camera as you hold the trigger down. All 38 of them!

Ah, the trigger! When you squeeze the trigger the camera begins to hum and vibrate in your hands. It’s a tactile experience that so many of our modern technological devices lack.

Eventually, the film cartridge says “EXPOSED” and you know you’re out of film. An exposed roll of film is a very mysterious thing. Your mind races with questions: Did it turn out? Was it any good? What will it look like?! But there’s no immediate answers when you’re shooting on film. You have to wait.

The final step is to have the film developed and/or digitized. I sent mine to Pro8mm, a company in Burbank. It took over two weeks before an envelope arrived in the mail with my footage. Watching it back gave me an incredible feeling of nostalgia for every moment of this summer.

Here’s my Summer 2020 Super 8 Short. I think it turned out pretty great:

Watching it back, I could picture every moment that I captured in vivid detail. I remembered where we were and what we were doing. It was magical. Things that I might have shot on my phone — food, selfies, random signs, silly things — none of those made the cut for my first Super 8 reel. Instead it was a representation of where we are now during this strange time in 2020. I’ll never forget it.

I’m not saying you should buy one of these cameras, too, although it has been quite fun and I plan on continuing to shoot with it as often as possible. But I do think there is a lot to be learned from how a Super 8 camera forces you to interact with the world around you.

It makes you slow down and value individual moments. It makes you wait and gives you the joy that comes from delayed gratification. And, if you want to share your work with someone it makes you work for it. Those are all things we could use a little more of these days.

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About Mark Toland

Mark Toland is an award-winning mind reader and two-time TEDx Speaker. His mind blowing skills have been featured on NBC, ABC, FOX, CBS, NPR, WGN, Sirius XM, and more. Mark’s blog is a behind-the-scenes look at the life of a professional entertainer, full of creative thoughts for creative people. Sign up below so you’ll never miss a post.

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My New Typewriter

I learned to type at my dad’s office.

His secretaries had electric typewriters that I would poke around on after hours. I’d watch in fascination as the silver ball quickly spun around to the correct letters, numbers, and symbols before revealing them on the page. I always loved the click-clack of the keys and the sound of the bell when you reached the end of the line.

The office was lined with barrister bookshelves full of leather bound books. Often, I’d have an extra hour to kill before my dad would be able to give me a ride home. So I’d walk the hall admiring the bookshelves before taking a seat behind a typewriter to pass the time.

When my father passed away my siblings and I each got to keep one of the bookshelves. It’s one of my favorite possessions and I can’t help but think of those glorious afternoons exploring the office and typing away for hours on end.

Recently I’ve been on a mission to add mystery back into my life. I figured that if I’m trying to encourage my audiences to enjoy mystery then I should probably do the same in my everyday life.

Part of that push has been to live a more “analog” life. I’ve been limiting my screen time, staying away from social media, and taking a more “old school” approach to my daily routine. It was only a matter of time before I bought my own typewriter.

I’ve always been a fan of the mid-century modern aesthetic, so I went with an Olivetti Lettera 32. Isn’t it beautiful?

I love this machine. It’s in perfect shape, has a perfect fit to my hands, and it’s totally my style. Just seeing it each day makes me want to sit down and get to work.

Also, it’s a manual typewriter, so there’s no need to charge it or upgrade it to the next operating system. It just sits on my desk waiting for me to create something.

Speaking of my desk… I had remembered that my dad’s typewriters had been resting on these large metal desks. They were huge and solid and built to last. So naturally I wanted one of those.

After doing a bit of research I discovered that those desks are known as “steel tanker desks”. I started searching everywhere for a desk that would go well with my Olivetti Lettera 32. I went dozens of pages deep on Craigslist, eBay, and more, but I couldn’t find the model I had in mind.

One day Stephanie and I went out to browse antique stores. I didn’t expect to find the desk I was wanting but I was keeping an eye out anyway. And at our tenth store, in a beautiful moment of serendipity, Stephanie found it sitting just inside the door. Plus, it was on sale. They were practically giving it away.

We cleared out the seats, wheeled it to the back alley, and loaded a massive, solid steel desk into the car. Surprisingly it wasn’t too difficult to transport it across the city and upstairs to our apartment. And suddenly, everything came together.

The desk matched the typewriter, which together matched my lamp, chair, and wall art. Everything was perfect.

I glanced down at the desk to see a seal from the desk’s manufacturer: Globe-Wernicke.

“I wonder where this desk has been…” I thought to myself.

So I went in search of some information I could find on steel tanker desks made by Globe-Wernicke. Eventually I arrived at this article.

It turns out that Globe-Wernicke is best known for patenting the “barrister bookcase” - the very bookcase that lined the halls of my dad’s office. The very bookcase that sat nearby while I was learning to type. The very bookcase my father left me after he passed away.

I love when everything comes full circle in life. I love when things connect in magical, mysterious ways that you couldn’t possibly anticipate.

Life can be really wonderful sometimes.

And that’s the story of my new typewriter, my new desk, and what goes through my mind when I sit down to write each and every day.

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Other Thoughts:

• Check out some backstage mind reading from Liberty Magic:

• I was a guest on The Lisa Show on Sirius XM Radio last week. Listen here!

• Also, check out this interview I did with the Pittsburgh Current.

What Matters Most

I was sitting at a cafe in Pittsburgh last week with my usual trio of a black coffee, Moleskine notebook, and a new book to read, when I witnessed the following:

A man sat down next to me, clearly waiting on someone else. A few minutes later, his friend arrived.

“Sorry, I’m late! How are you?” he said, as he sat down at the table.

“That’s okay. I just got here. What’s new?”

The second man lifted the sleeve of his shirt to reveal a tattoo.

“Here it is!” he said, proudly gesturing to his new ink, to which his friend replied:

“Wow! I mean, I already saw it on facebook but it’s really cool to see it in person.”

Hearing that exchange really bummed me out. And it was the same for that guy, too. I could see the disappointment on his face.

We are actively seeking to remove mystery from our lives. There is no room for discovery or wonder any more. We need more answers and more information - the quicker, the better. The joy of “not knowing” is a rare experience in 2019.

I know I write about this a lot, but I’m obsessed with mystery. And I want more of it. My real job the past few years has been to insert mystery back into people’s lives and lately I’ve been finding ways to add it back into my life, too.

I’ve been writing on a typewriter. I love the sound it makes and the connectedness I feel to the page. Plus, I don’t have to click “Remind Me Tomorrow” because it doesn’t need any updates.

I love the mystery of my typewriter because I never know what I’m going to write when I sit down. I have to sit and ponder what I want to say because there’s no “cut and paste” or spellcheck to rely on. I get to take my time to discover every single word and that brings me immense joy.

I’ve been running more this year than any other. It’s very hilly in Pittsburgh, so I’ve been loving the nature trails here. I’ve started going out without GPS, just to discover places for myself. Without a voice in my ear telling me where to go 8 miles feels like a real adventure.

And, I’m considering deleting all of my social media accounts. Don’t be surprised if I do. If you want to make sure you never miss one of these blogs, join my Thursday Thoughts mailing list.

There’s no joy in knowing everything a friend has been up to, then meeting them for lunch and having nothing to talk about. There’s no joy in the constant barrage of information. And, you definitely don’t need social media to be successful in 2019. You’ve just become convinced you do.

I’m not telling you to buy a typewriter or delete your facebook, but mystery is a good thing. It’s a great feeling to find ways to add it back into your life.

Here’s one way to do it: The next time you’re sitting with a friend and feel a buzz in your pocket, don’t look at it. Don’t pull out your phone and don’t get distracted. Stay present. Give your friend your full attention. Stay in the moment.

Later, when you’re alone you’ll pull your phone out and say “Oh, right! I have a text…” then get to find out who it is. That’s the joy of not knowing.

I love not knowing because not knowing means I’m not thinking about what happened yesterday because it’s in the past. And I’m not worried about what’s yet to come because I don’t know. So I only focus on what matters most: this moment, right here and right now.

Everything else is a mystery.

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Other Thoughts:

• I’m over halfway through my run here in Pittsburgh. Don’t miss your chance to see it!

• Also, check out this awesome teaser for MIND READER:

Not Knowing

Every day you’re faced with hundreds of tiny, micro-choices.

Forgot a movie quote? You can choose to look it up right now or be cool not knowing.

Want to know what song that was? Sha-zam! There it is. Or maybe you don’t need to know.

Movie ratings, yelp reviews, the latest headlines. To know, or not to know. That is the question.

Our devices have made the choice of knowing/not knowing so common that we don’t give it a second thought. We don’t consider these choices like we once did, we just get to know.

Enter me. Upstage center.

I have a gift for you.

Every Wednesday through the end of June in Chicago, then six shows a week for six weeks in Pittsburgh. Or at your college this fall or corporate event this winter. Or The Mystery Show at ████████. Every show I do, I’m giving this gift away for free.

I’m giving you the gift of not knowing.

I’m releasing you from the pattern of constant answers and information you carry with you on a daily basis. I’m freeing you from the confines of your google-able existence. I’m removing the choice between knowing and not knowing.

You get to leave my show with a mystery. More mystery than you’ve had in quite some time.

You don’t want to know. You just don’t know it yet.

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For a complete list of upcoming shows & ticket info, visit this page.

More Mystery

Sometime last year I realized that something major was missing from my life. There was no mystery any more. I wanted to change that.

It all started with my phone.

I use my phone too much. Over the past decade it just became a way of life. I was always on my phone: early mornings at the airport, waiting backstage at a show, riding the train, walking to the gym.

“My name is Mark and I’m addicted to my phone.”

Well, I was addicted to my phone - but not anymore. I made steps to change that, all in an effort to add more mystery back into my life. I went from being on my phone around 4 HOURS A DAY to between 30 and 60 minutes every day for the past few months.

You might think I’m being over-dramatic here so do me a favor. Check your screen time right now. Chances are the number is pretty high. Don’t panic, it’s the culture we live in. But you can make changes to improve the relationship you have with your device(s).

Want to break your phone addiction, too? Here’s how I did it:

• I read a few great books on phone use, including this one. It’s full of useful ideas on how to limit your phone use and make more time for the things you love.

• I stopped going on social media. Honestly, I despise it and had for years. I only kept using it because I thought I needed it to become a successful entertainer. The second I deleted Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, and Instagram from my phone a huge weight was lifted. Not convinced? Read this book and try a week without social media for yourself.

• I took Safari off my phone, too. The temptation to go to a web version of social media or mindlessly scroll the latest news stories was too great, so I removed that variable.

• I changed where I charge my phone so that it wasn’t always within reach. When I’m home I try to leave it charging in the other room so my first impulse isn’t to grab my phone when I have down time.

• I tried some other things, too, like changing my colors to greyscale or setting timers on social media. But those are too easy to bypass and I wanted to permanently alter my habits. Those methods might help you, though, so check out some more ideas here.

• I’m almost always on Do Not Disturb mode. I only allow certain people to call me but keep my notifications off unless I’m on the road.

The first week of breaking your phone addiction is very weird. Out of habit, you take your phone out and go to open one of the most addictive apps. Then you realize they aren’t there, swipe around a few times and put your phone away.

After that, you’ll find yourself wondering how you’re going to fill the time. Everywhere you look you’ll see people on their phones, just constantly scrolling and double-tapping and clicking. It’s eye-opening.

Turns out, after a few weeks of limited phone use you start to crave other things.

I’ve been reading and running and writing more. Stephanie and I have been seeing more theatre lately. We saw a stunning production of Hamlet last week and an incredible concert a few days before. And, I didn’t need to tweet about it or watch it happen through my phone. It lives on in my memory, two of my favorite evenings in Chicago with my beautiful wife.

So, what does this have to do with mystery?

Well, breaking up with my phone made me realize how much mystery I was missing out on in my daily routine.

I was constantly able to have any information at a moment’s notice, with no regard for how incredible that information truly was. I could literally ask my phone for any answer and have it within seconds. That’s crazy! And absolutely unnecessary.

Deleting social media meant I wasn’t aware of the latest updates my friends were sharing. Their recent adventures were a mystery to me. Now when we get together, conversation is suddenly lively and fun again.

This personal realization about how social media was affecting me sent me down a wormhole in search of as much mystery as possible.

I’ve stopped Shazam-ing (new word I just made up) songs I didn’t know, just so I could force myself to be content not knowing what the song was.

I’ve stopped using GPS in the city when I’m headed to a new location. I’ll memorize the route before I leave home and if I get lost I just ask for directions. When people are given the chance to help you, they light up! We’ve forgotten how great it feels to do something nice for another person.

I stopped reading reviews. We wander into restaurants or shows now, without knowing what to expect. It’s marvelous.

We took a chance on a movie a few months ago without reading about it beforehand. And we ended up having an incredible night! Out of curiosity I looked up the Rotten Tomatoes score when we got home. I was shocked to learn that it was only 55%. I’m glad I didn’t know, because we probably wouldn’t have gone at all and would have missed one of the most fun date nights we’ve had in the past several years.

One night Stephie and I were sitting on the couch making each other laugh and suddenly found ourselves unable to remember a tagline from an old inside joke. We refused to Google it and sat there laughing, trying as hard as we could to remember. After 15 minutes, we looked at each other and said the phrase in unison. We laughed so hard we cried.

It takes time to adjust but not knowing is my favorite feeling in the world. It lets me appreciate the time I have now and the people I’m spending it with. It lets me focus on what matters most because I have no idea what comes next. And guess what? I don’t want to know.

I’m tired of having all the answers. I want more mystery.

Mystery

I can pinpoint the exact moment I fell in love with mystery.

It was entirely unrelated to theatre or performance or mind reading. It wasn’t a movie or a book or a play. It was much simpler than that.

It was a game.

A favorite childhood game in my family was “Hide The Thimble” where you take a thimble and, well, hide it. The object of the game was to keep the bright, shiny thimble in plain sight so that you could easily see it from anywhere in the room.

We had dozens of favorite hiding spots. The thimble easily balanced on a picture frame or fit over a lamp switch. You could sit it between piano keys or rest it high atop a ceiling fan. The possibilities were endless.

We mostly played “Hide The Thimble” when visiting family, so we were full of anticipation upon arrival. We’d take turns hiding and finding the thimble, without a care in the world. There were no iPhones or internet back then so we were content to play as long as our relatives would put up with us.

On one occasion, someone (I can’t quite remember who) hid the thimble while the rest of us waited in the other room. Then the seeker (I wish I could remember) led the rest of us into the target area.

Minutes passed and the thimble had yet to be found. We were all stumped and excitedly waited for the “seeker” to discover its whereabouts.

Another ten minutes had passed and still no thimble.

“Show us!” we begged, but the person who hid it had forgotten where it was.

We were a patient family. It was in our blood. We would play chess and tennis and board games for hours. We would design extravagant scavenger hunts for each other and organize massive rounds of Capture The Flag.

What I’m trying to say is that we would have looked for that thimble for hours. We would have stayed in that room and kept looking if my dad hadn’t told us it was time to head home.

“But we haven’t found the thimble yet!” someone said.

“Well, we’ll have to find it next time then,” my dad said, as we followed him to the driveway.

There was no next time.

Time passed, and so did relatives. Things changed and we grew older. 

The thimble was never found.

I think about that thimble often. I wonder where it was hidden and what might have happened to it.

Did it fall off a light switch and roll under a shelf? Was it resting just above our eyeline and we had forgotten to look up? Did the future owners renovate that room and discover a small, shiny object underneath the floorboards?

Or maybe it was never meant to be found?

Over the years I’ve learned to be okay with not knowing. I like it that way.