My mother in law sent the following piece to me and my brother in law and his wife, with the "I send it forth as 'food for thought' in the names of M & O & C (our kids) as I perceive their futures." At first, I read it and said to myself, nah, this will never apply to me. I like getting in the muck of emotion messiness, I am not afraid of tears and work and the time it takes to mend.
How Not to Be Alone By JONATHAN SAFRAN FOER
Original NYT Link
June 8, 2013
A COUPLE of weeks ago, I saw a stranger crying in public. I was in Brooklyn’s Fort Greene neighborhood, waiting to meet a friend for breakfast. I arrived at the restaurant a few minutes early and was sitting on the bench outside, scrolling through my contact list. A girl, maybe 15 years old, was sitting on the bench opposite me, crying into her phone. I heard her say, “I know, I know, I know” over and over.
What did she know? Had she done something wrong? Was she being comforted? And then she said, “Mama, I know,” and the tears came harder.
What was her mother telling her? Never to stay out all night again? That everybody fails? Is it possible that no one was on the other end of the call, and that the girl was merely rehearsing a difficult conversation?
“Mama, I know,” she said, and hung up, placing her phone on her lap.
I was faced with a choice: I could interject myself into her life, or I could respect the boundaries between us. Intervening might make her feel worse, or be inappropriate. But then, it might ease her pain, or be helpful in some straightforward logistical way. An affluent neighborhood at the beginning of the day is not the same as a dangerous one as night is falling. And I was me, and not someone else. There was a lot of human computing to be done.
It is harder to intervene than not to, but it is vastly harder to choose to do either than to retreat into the scrolling names of one’s contact list, or whatever one’s favorite iDistraction happens to be. Technology celebrates connectedness, but encourages retreat. The phone didn’t make me avoid the human connection, but it did make ignoring her easier in that moment, and more likely, by comfortably encouraging me to forget my choice to do so. My daily use of technological communication has been shaping me into someone more likely to forget others. The flow of water carves rock, a little bit at a time. And our personhood is carved, too, by the flow of our habits.
Psychologists who study empathy and compassion are finding that unlike our almost instantaneous responses to physical pain, it takes time for the brain to comprehend the psychological and moral dimensions of a situation. The more distracted we become, and the more emphasis we place on speed at the expense of depth, the less likely and able we are to care.
Everyone wants his parent’s, or friend’s, or partner’s undivided attention — even if many of us, especially children, are getting used to far less. Simone Weil wrote, “Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity.” By this definition, our relationships to the world, and to one another, and to ourselves, are becoming increasingly miserly.
Most of our communication technologies began as diminished substitutes for an impossible activity. We couldn’t always see one another face to face, so the telephone made it possible to keep in touch at a distance. One is not always home, so the answering machine made a kind of interaction possible without the person being near his phone. Online communication originated as a substitute for telephonic communication, which was considered, for whatever reasons, too burdensome or inconvenient. And then texting, which facilitated yet faster, and more mobile, messaging. These inventions were not created to be improvements upon face-to-face communication, but a declension of acceptable, if diminished, substitutes for it.
But then a funny thing happened: we began to prefer the diminished substitutes. It’s easier to make a phone call than to schlep to see someone in person. Leaving a message on someone’s machine is easier than having a phone conversation — you can say what you need to say without a response; hard news is easier to leave; it’s easier to check in without becoming entangled. So we began calling when we knew no one would pick up.
Shooting off an e-mail is easier, still, because one can hide behind the absence of vocal inflection, and of course there’s no chance of accidentally catching someone. And texting is even easier, as the expectation for articulateness is further reduced, and another shell is offered to hide in. Each step “forward” has made it easier, just a little, to avoid the emotional work of being present, to convey information rather than humanity.
THE problem with accepting — with preferring — diminished substitutes is that over time, we, too, become diminished substitutes. People who become used to saying little become used to feeling little.
With each generation, it becomes harder to imagine a future that resembles the present. My grandparents hoped I would have a better life than they did: free of war and hunger, comfortably situated in a place that felt like home. But what futures would I dismiss out of hand for my grandchildren? That their clothes will be fabricated every morning on 3-D printers? That they will communicate without speaking or moving?
Only those with no imagination, and no grounding in reality, would deny the possibility that they will live forever. It’s possible that many reading these words will never die. Let’s assume, though, that we all have a set number of days to indent the world with our beliefs, to find and create the beauty that only a finite existence allows for, to wrestle with the question of purpose and wrestle with our answers.
We often use technology to save time, but increasingly, it either takes the saved time along with it, or makes the saved time less present, intimate and rich. I worry that the closer the world gets to our fingertips, the further it gets from our hearts. It’s not an either/or — being “anti-technology” is perhaps the only thing more foolish than being unquestioningly “pro-technology” — but a question of balance that our lives hang upon.
Most of the time, most people are not crying in public, but everyone is always in need of something that another person can give, be it undivided attention, a kind word or deep empathy. There is no better use of a life than to be attentive to such needs. There are as many ways to do this as there are kinds of loneliness, but all of them require attentiveness, all of them require the hard work of emotional computation and corporeal compassion. All of them require the human processing of the only animal who risks “getting it wrong” and whose dreams provide shelters and vaccines and words to crying strangers.
We live in a world made up more of story than stuff. We are creatures of memory more than reminders, of love more than likes. Being attentive to the needs of others might not be the point of life, but it is the work of life. It can be messy, and painful, and almost impossibly difficult. But it is not something we give. It is what we get in exchange for having to die
Jonathan Safran Foer is a novelist who delivered the 2013 commencement address at Middlebury College, from which this essay is adapted.
I have been thinking a lot about tension, conflict and kindness. I am in a new-ish, Jewish job and am working with an executive coach, after realizing that with a bigger job, I must call upon different skills to be successful. I am scaling up my game, so to speak, and so talk to my coach for an hour once a week.
This week we talked a lot about kindness in the face of conflict. In my job, I get yelled at a lot by external parties. They come to me to vent, to be heard, to feel like their grievances have been registered. When I was younger, less experienced, I might have yelled back, been defensive or shook with rage after one of these experiences. Now I listen, and offer fresh starts, kindness, admit guilt where there may be none. Being right is less important than being kind.
What it leaves me feeling, however, is tired. I need to replenish the stores of kindness from time to time and my boys help. As does the knowledge that just around the corner is someone who will be kind to me; I surround myself with evidence that laughter is curative and a smile takes less energy than a frown.
And I am lucky in so many ways, as I have love in my life, unconditionally, and that is a self-replenishing resource.
So go ahead, yell at me. It will make you feel better.
Imitation is Suicide. Insist on yourself; never imitate. – Ralph Waldo Emerson
Write down in which areas of your life you have to overcome these suicidal tendencies of imitation, and how you can transform them into a newborn you – one that doesn’t hide its uniqueness, but thrives on it. There is a “divine idea which each of us represents” – which is yours?Hmmm... is it bad that I cannot really even understand this question? I have always tried since I was a teenager, which was all imitation, some (blue black dyed hair) rebellion, and general havoc, to be myself. Sometimes I try a "fashion" on as imitation and fail terribly. I guess that's it. I'm tired. I hope I like tomorrow's prompt better.
To believe your own thought, to believe that what is true for you in your private heart is true for all men, that is genius. – Ralph Waldo Emerson
What is burning deep inside of you? If you could spread your personal message RIGHT NOW to 1 million people, what would you say?
A really groovy and smart colleague of mine turned me on to Seth Godin's latest mind-shaking initiative, The Domino Project, which has a 30 day writing challenge that I hope will revitalize my blogging efforts.
As usual, I am a little late to the party but here it goes:
The Pledge Details
The #Trust30 challenge starts at 6am ET on May 31st and runs for 30 days. AS I SAID I AM LATE
Each day we'll post a prompt from an original thinker and doer on RalphWaldoEmerson.me. You can also sign-up for daily emails. DONE
Fill out the short form below to commit to participating in the #trust30 online initiative. DONE
Blog, journal, or create something on each of the 30 days. WAITING FOR THE PROMPT
Tweet using the hashtag #trust30 to show your support and involvement. WILL DO
Time has been flying lately. Work has taken on a life of its own. It feels great, but hectic.
The kids are so big.
Gone are the hours of introspection and blogging, now I am just lucky to string 140 characters together.
I am so behind on this blog, my other blog, the running associated with said blog.
I have another half marathon in September, so I will start officially training for it in June.
The not so lazy days of summer await.
Tom left for work super early, so I got up with the kids for the I'm scared visits and Charlie's just becuase I'm cute visits and I still got up with Tom to shower and make breakfast. The extra 45 minutes I could have gotten was not worth missing this quiet time to have a cup of coffee, a vitamuffin top, and write a little.
As you can see from http://thismommyruns.blogspot.com/, I ran and completed my first half marathon. I have been able to keep my weight steady, a few pounds more than I would like (about 3 lbs) but I am still running about 10-12 miles a week for fun, doing pilates and enjoying running when I want to rather than when I am supposed.
That said I am eager to start up again with TNT. I miss the structure and I really do respond well to a coaching environment. I think once I get these next few races under my belt I will feel more confident that this running phase is not just a passing fad for me. I have had so many of those, but rather a lifestyle change.
My doorman Tony said to me the other day when seeing me returning from a pre-dawn run, "I thought you were done with the training?" Without thinking I responded, "I am, this is just for fun and for life."
Progress.
Here I am on day 65 of my 66 days of looking very closely at my diet, exercise and general habits. I eat better, I drink less and unless I am traveling for work or on vacation, I work out 6 days a week. I do something to push myself almost every day and feel badly if I don't.
On the subject of feeling badly, the only thing that feels crummy, other than occasional muscle soreness, is the time away from my boys. In order to get to work out, I have to leave before they get up and often have work things or am forced (by work mostly) to exercise at night missing bedtime.
It's a bad feeling to talk to your child on the phone when you slept in the same house as them but did not see them awake. I just can't think of any other way to do it. I am so happy to have lost 15 lbs in the last 65 days and am working hard towards another 10 - 15 lbs until I am at a healthy BMI and am set to maintain a healthy lifestyle. I only regret sometimes the toll it takes on all three of my boys. Tom is often left alone with them so that I can work out. The benefits are for everyone, including him, that I am healthy, but I can't help feeling a little guilty.
Perhaps it is just a sad day for me. I miss my boys but not the old me, and I like these muscles that are forming and the endurance I have been building. I guess it is a trade off. I was not fat and happy, so something's gotta give.
I keep telling Max as soon as he is old enough, he can come running with me.
Down 4 lbs this week after being up 1 lb last week for a total of 13. 5 lbs in 43 days.
Wearing a suit that I have not been able to put on in two years.
Excited for core fusion tonight.
Feeling really good.
Maybe even on the cusp of a habit?
So I am down 10.5 lbs and working hard at keeping the momentum going. I got past a few historical hurdles, in fact.
1. Sickness: Traditionally, when I get sick during a "health kick" and I give up. I feel like I have become weak, eaten comfort food and really what is the point. This time I stuck with my goals and my nutrition and am healthy again after a nasty viral/bacterial infection and am still on program.
2. Open bar event: Anything that has an open bar and passed hors d'oeuvres has been a major pitfall for me. This past Saturday night I managed to eat and drink within reason at a family bar mitzvah. I have to say I was super proud.
So here I am making progress and I am anxious about continuing my success and keeping it off and staying strong and ignoring the voices of The Resistance as Seth Godin calls it. The Resistance is what I fight everyday.
I have a ways to go (at least 15 to 20 lbs) but I am motivated and well on my way!
I have a moment or several hours as the case is, as I fly across the country to San Fran for business. I know I should spend this time writing, luxuriating, relishing my "me" time but tonight I am a little sad. I miss the boys a lot.
I know I'll land and get in the zone, get my game face on and focus. But ...
Right now am watching "This Is It" the Michael Jackson movie, after a false start of the Time Traveler's Wife (which was just not as good as the book, even in the first 5 mins,) and feeling a little down.
My sister LOVED M.J. I remember that, as a child, she had this red leather zipper covered jacket and would listen to Thriller and [ugh, rough air] Off the Wall over and over.
I was worshiping Young and Dylan ... Mer loved Jackson.
Anyway.
It took me only two nights to start and finish David Sheff's Beautiful Boy. I cried most of the second, that being last night, and it is sticking with me. More than anything, for a mother of two delicious boys, it is a gut wrenching book not simply about crystal meth addiction, but rather the paralyzing fear that no matter what you do you cannot keep your babies safe.