Have you noticed how a lot of technology is being programed with the assumption that its users need to be protected from what they do not know? I have recently benefited from such safeguards while taking on this hair brained idea to start a blog. It is precisely because of these built in precautions that I achieved any measure of success in launching this site. And, I admit, I am grateful Word Press protected me from my own computer illiteracy. But these assumptions are being incorporated into so many aspects of our lives, I am concerned about their potential consequence in our desire to learn and our ability to tolerate uncertainty.
Two more technological tools have recently entered my life, and they are almost as dogged as my beleaguered ego in protecting me. Although their metrics are designed to improve my writing, what they delivered was an insight and appreciation that extends far beyond the written word.
I voluntarily seek the assistance of my Microsoft Word Editor and find it to be a useful tool in catching errantly placed commas and spotting misguided word choices. But lately, my Editor has insisted on telling me, “Words expressing uncertainty lessen your impact.” It catches a whiff of “Perhaps, Generally, or I Believe” and rushes in to rescue me from my uncertain language.
Clearly my “Editor” does not understand my relationship with uncertainty. We’re tight. Inseparable, really.
If I am being honest, visiting LinkedIn is baffling terrain for me. How is it so many people seemed to come out of the womb knowing exactly what they wanted to do with their lives and precisely what steps were needed to get there? I long for that kind of clarity, but I’ve been known to be awake at 3am and Googling, “What am I supposed to be doing with my life?” And when Google willingly offered People Have Also Asked: “Why Do I Feel so Lost?” I was eager to follow those leads as well.
My uncertainty is not limited to my life purpose. It is an active and comprehensive lens. I can honestly say, I have never held a view with such assuredness that I would join a protest, let alone organize a movement. It is my complete lack of certitude that has kept me both befuddled and thankfully unaffected by the daily political venom directed from one side to the other.
I do not know the first thing about ending wars, eliminating racism, fixing medical systems, and helping refugees start a new life. And when I feel overwhelmed by how complicated our world is, in truth, I just want to tap out, play small and have someone tell me what to do.
A role our computers are all too willing to do.
They are brilliant tools for compiling and organizing data. And they are quite good at anticipating what kinds of uncertainty might best be assisted by specific sets of information. But computers hate uncertainty as much as the people who program them. And their binary code of rules works in the kind of absolutes that life does not.
As they permeate more facets of our life, we are increasingly forced to play by their rules. And if we are not careful, we are unknowingly distancing ourselves from our own physical senses and our own internal discernment. Let me share two quick stories.
Recently, Ken and I were on our way downtown, traveling at freeway speed when suddenly his car chirped. I casually said, “What was that?”
He answered, “It’s telling me my lights aren’t on.”
“Why? They haven’t been on since we left the house. Nor are they needed; we have full daylight.”
As if an active participant in our conversation, the car chirped again. Concerned the car recognized something we were unaware of; Ken took his eyes off the road to search the dashboard for more information.
“Huh, it must be because it just turned five o’clock.”
Audible eye roll!
What deeply troubles me, and ought to trouble all of us, is the assumption that we are unaware, and that the binary rules of technology are better equipped to respond to the complexity of life than we are!
Let that sink in…
Is it possible the pervasive presence of computers is slowly undermining our confidence in our own physical senses? Or worse yet, might they be diminishing our need to be present?
While recently shopping, I found myself at a set of woefully understaffed checkout lanes. The line of customers extended well into merchandise aisles. Knowing I was unwilling to come back at a less busy time for such a small purchase, I settled in with quiet patience knowing I would be in line for a while.
At some point, a loud voice rose above the critical commentary being shared among those in line, “I am going to ask that you form two lines. I will direct those who have been in line longest to the next available cashier.” We shuffled our way into some sort of organized chaos, taking our cues from the woman wearing a vest and sporting a tablet strapped across her chest. As we continued to wait in our newly formed lines, one of the patrons asked the self-declared authority. “Any chance you could open another lane and help check people out?”
“No, I am the CSM and when I have this tablet, I can not be on the cash register.”
Wait?! What now?! Does that make any sense? And let me tell you, she delivered that sentence with unwavering CERTAINTY. I remember a time in our past when a CSM, (Customer Service Manager, in case you were uncertain) would have been more attuned to servicing customers rather than defining their role with such limited parameters.
Her behavior illustrates how our computers operate: IF THIS, THEN THAT. But it also represents how we are being influenced by computers and forgetting that we do not have to operate with the same limited rules of engagement!
We have the ability and need to diligently practice honing our awareness of what is happening and remember we can choose a response from a myriad of options. In other words, we need to become conscious when we are using IF THIS, THEN THAT thinking and replace it with our innate ability to think, IT’S THIS, NOW WHAT?
Why are we not consistently choosing this? Why are we willing to allow the insidious presence of computers to dull our engagement with life and reduce us to “absolute” rule keepers?
I believe, in large part, it is a primal response to the discomfort of uncertainty. Something we all share. Ok, I am going to say it. I am a messy, imperfect human whose only certainty is that I feel uncertain most of the time. On my best days, I seek to fully experience my life and approximate some level of understanding for those whom I share interaction with. And most days, that feels like a mighty aspiration, indeed. So, while my computer tools would be far happier with me if I avoided all that uncertainty…
I have chosen to use my uncertainty as fuel for curiosity and compassion for myself and my fellow human beings.
Which leads me to the second insight delivered by the annoying SEO tool built into my blog site. My relationship with this tool is far more complicated. I do not seek its counsel, nor did I choose to place its functionality onto my site. It was a “feature” built into the website package and it automatically runs its annoying rule keeping metrics on every post I write, eagerly delivering its low readability scores, replete with red colored sad faces. And because it is so diligent in telling me, I feel obliged to apologize for my apparent abuse of the Passive Voice.
EF.edu states, “The passive voice is used to show interest in the person or object that experiences an action, rather than the person or object that performs the action.”
The power of this insight was initially lost on me as I tried to follow its “prescribed” and “preferred” format. But, after excoriating myself after many failed attempts to give you a more enjoyable reading experience, I realized it is no accident I consistently write this way. It is a reflection of the way I experience life and is likely the byproduct of my daily meditation practice.
In an earlier blog post, (Some Wiser Part of Me) I shared about my first attempt at meditating and how the simple task of “focusing on my breath” led me to a full panic attack and unable to breathe. At the time, I had no idea “focus on your breath” meant “experience it.” In fact, my inability to breathe happened precisely because my focus was errantly placed on the person “performing the act of breathing.”
I do not know how an annoying SEO tool and its recurring sad red face could deliver such a lovely revelation, but I am grateful it has. It has shown me I have come a long way in my ability to be present for the experience I am currently participating in. So much so, that it has become my lens on life and the only way in which I can talk about it.
My mindfulness was strengthened through meditation. But there are a number of ways to practice awareness. Creativity is an incredibly effective way to hone skill in observing and interpreting the world. Just think about how a photography hobby might hone your ability to see differently than others. But another way to build attunement to what is happening around you is to simply immerse yourself in an activity that you genuinely like.
My husband and I have a friend who I am certain would not describe himself as particularly “mindful.” But he was able to teach me that fully experiencing any aspect of life is an active choice. Allow me to explain, this individual LOVES the State Fair. So much so, he attends every day and has admitted his excitement is so strong he often cannot sleep the night before it opens.
A few years back, Ken and I spent a couple of hours with him at the fair and the way he engaged in the experience was in such stark contrast to how I do, I could not help but stand in amazement. I first noticed the difference in how he walked the grounds. Where I am looking, anticipating, dodging, and weaving, he simply walks. Shoulders back, chest forward, arms freely swinging; his eyes scan the entire horizon for the next exciting opportunity. He is calm and assured and his stride alerts those around him, “I am here to receive all that is available.” And it is amazing, the crowd literally parts to make way for his full immersive presence.
For me, the fair is not fun, it is something I hope to survive. It takes days of mental preparation. Navigating the sea of distracted people carrying sloppy food feels like running the gauntlet. Within an hour, I am over stimulated, physically exhausted and feel every recrimination of zigging when I should have zagged.
But when our friend walks through the entrance gate, he greets and thanks the admissions staff as if they are lifelong friends who have once again orchestrated this whole experience for him. There is so much appreciation, it is as if every food vendor there spent the last year masterminding the newest delicacy specifically for his enjoyment. The curators and entertainers conspired to surprise him with their exquisite lineup. Award winning jams and pickles were labored over with love simply so he could share in their triumph. Animals “strong in the withers” were carted hundreds of miles so he could familiarize himself with the makings of “blue ribbon” musculature.
When I shared with our friend that I liked walking through the poultry barn, his eyes lit up and he said, oh my gosh, you know when is the best time to walk through the poultry barn? In the early morning. The light streams through those upper-level windows and illuminates the feathers in such a cool way.” I lost track of the multitude of other exuberant details he shared because I could not believe someone could be so familiar with the minutia of the poultry barn. And while I could not say for certain, I suspect he could offer similarly helpful pointers about the dog shows, machinery hill and strawberry shortcake.
I am not sure if it is his appreciation that makes him so present for all that the Fair has to offer. Or if it is his immersive presence that fosters his appreciation. Either way, his way of being at the Fair has taught me we can experience so much more when we choose to be fully receptive participants in our experience.
How different would his experience be if he went with a full plan of what he wanted to experience each day, in what order and how much time he would spend at each location? Would that kind of certainty usher in the same fully lived experience?
Now, it is your turn. How do you practice being fully present and interested in the experience you are receiving in life?
One response to “(Un)Certain Experiencer”
It is as if to experience the interaction like a child…with awe and wonder. It feeds and energizes to enter in more deeply. It allows flow and what I call Zen Navigation, which is to allow it to unfold and trusting the outcome.
I will never again attend the State Fair without thinking of your friend and how loving with an open heart brings wonder and excitement. I was like you attending it and glad it was just once a year or less if I happened to be out of town and had an excuse.