Philosophy Tuesday

We humans get good at stuff.

The problem is that we get really good at it.

 

Sometimes too good.

 

Which then often ends up causing imbalances and more.

 

Our greatness/efficiency becomes unproductive,

Leading us away from creating what we want,

And even causing harm.

 

It’s up to us to get real good at knowing when we’ve gotten too good,

And recognize when we’ve gotten such strong tunnel vision

That our abilities have led us astray.

 

Dial it back a notch,

And watch everything blossom from there.

Philosophy Tuesday

“The Art of Communication.”  Though it’s a common enough phrase, I don’t think we often give it its due.  We don’t value it for what it’s really saying.

And the reason we often ignore it is simple:  because we’re always communicating.  We communicate hundreds of times every day.  And because we’re doing it all the time, we settle into the view that it’s just a thing that we do.  A thing that we can do.  A thing that’s natural.  Ultimately, a thing we even think we’re GOOD at.  And if there is any problem, it’s gotta be their fault.  *

Ah, hubris.

What that familiarity hides is that communication is hard.  That it is, very much, an art.  And as such it is a skill at which we can work on and develop and can always do better at.

Further, that it’s an art also points to the fact that there’s no one way to do it – quite the contrary, there are not only many ways to do it, but many ways we need to do it, for every situation, and every person we’re communicating with, is a different canvas.  Just because we may have it down with one person or group, doesn’t mean we’ve figured it out.

Heck, even within that group things can shift and before we know it we’re back to misunderstandingville.

It’s all an art, something we can practice and develop and forever grow.  And when we’re engaged with it we can bring our listening and mindfulness to it so that we can dance in the moment to create and communicate.

Because, at the end of it all, we want to share, we want to be heard, we want to be understood, and we want to connect.

 

* One of my favourite expressions/examples of all times regarding this is this XKCD comic I spoke about here, for which the caption says “Anyone who says they are great at communicating but “people are bad at listening” is confused at how communication works.”

Philosophy Tuesday

“I don’t have to run faster than the bear…

I just have to run faster than you.

While the above is not the actual quote,* it is how I first heard it.  You’ve might have heard some version of it as well.  And through its dark humour it speaks with a kind of seemingly unexplainable profoundness.

Whether there’s any truth to it in the physical realm (whether you live someplace where there are bears or not), the thing is that is does point to how we often relate to certain aspects of our life or of our behaviour.  Especially when it comes to the realms of morality or ethics.  It is quite easy to stop examining ourselves about whether we are living up to our ideals who we profess ourselves to be – including whether we’re being productive or unproductive, whether we are creating possibility or causing harm and hurt, whether we are working towards our common desires or running roughshod over others – and instead begin comparing ourselves to others, with one single metric.  To put in the same context as the above:

“… I just have to be better than you.

The game is no longer mindfulness, or self examination, or creation, or self-actualization.  That all gets short-circuited by the easy way out of comparison.  It’s a way to assuage our guilt.  Comparison smooths over the dissonance and discomfort that comes from stepping over our authentic self and its morals, ethics, ideals, values, and any of the bits that run counter to who we say we are.**

And it does a great job of it!  Inside the Bear game (aka “not as bad as…” game) we don’t gain peace, but it does move aside the confusion and unease and ache, at least temporarily.

But it will only ever be temporary.  Because we’ve got a break in our word, and a break in our world between our authentic self and how we’re being and behaving.

When we recognize the Bear game, we can put it aside.  We can let ourselves see those disconnects so that we can do something about them.  We can take action, do the work, create new clearings to step in to, and align ourselves with who we truly want to be.  We gain access to peace of mind, wonder, connection, and fulfillment, while also creating spaces where we can all flourish.

 

* The original, by Jim Butcher, is not presented as a punchline to a joke, being much more straightforward:  “You don’t have to run faster than the bear to get away. You just have to run faster than the guy next to you.”  It was meant as encouragement towards perseverance (specifically in becoming a writer) as well as a good reminder to stop focusing on our imperfections and that we don’t need to be perfect or the ultimate best in the world at something to enjoy fulfillment and success.  However, the version I’ve got stuck in my head, with its more pointed nature, is more perfect for delving into the inquiry at hand…

** Unless, of course, who you say you are is a jerk or tyrant or conniver or schemer or the like… in which case, there’s a different conversation that needs to be had to transform that!

Philosophy Tuesday

“In an abusive relationship, your virtues get turned against you: ‘Don’t you want to be patient? And forgiving?’ ‘Isn’t it good to listen?’ ‘Don’t you want to provide for your girl?’ ‘Don’t you want to be faithful?’ ‘If you love someone, you don’t give up on them.’

In an ordinary relationship, those virtues will shine.

With an abuser, you will die waiting for them to be reciprocated.”

Abigail Thorn

 

(I think this is a seriously important thing to learn, get, and remember.  Not only for relationships, though, of course, it is supremely crucial there!  Because it is easy enough to get bamboozled, hoodwinked, and browbeat into thinking that you are not in an abusive relationship.  That the faults are all yours, that you should get your act together, that you’re not good enough, and that if you do anything different you are a bad person.

It is so very much a part of the DARVO play, especially the RVO part.

It is 100% manipulative maliciousness.

Which is where it also crosses over into territories other than relationships:  The same manipulative maliciousness is often brought into discussions or debates.  As we engage in far-reaching conversations about policy, about morality, or about our views on the wider world, whether these conversations happen on the interpersonal or on larger levels/stages it is important to learn, get, remember, and recognize when these same techniques are brought to bear.

It is, naturally, the ultimate in bad faith arguing.  For the vicious manipulator does not care one whit for the values and virtues they are levelling against you and that they are using to accuse you.  They are using them simply as a tool because they know you care.  They are weaponizing your values and virtues.

Again, it is abusive.  They do not hold to those values or virtues.  They are employed only as a technique with which to “win.”  Though, as Abigail notes above, when conversing and discussing with someone acting in good faith, all those virtues and values will shine, and great things can occur; with an abuser, it’s more that everyone loses.)

Philosophy Tuesday

To add to the Opposing Diapoles I mentioned a few months ago, there was another construct I discovered that had been hemming me in:  my Evil Triumvirates.*

Unlike the Diapoles, these weren’t contrarian landmines on either side of me into which I was guaranteed to step on no matter which way down the path I went.  Instead, these were views/truths/realities that worked in unison, albeit surreptitiously.  While, together, they formed a big barrier that affected me in a big way, each also had their own angle or flavour to it.  They were variations on the same barrier, sneaking up from different directions and linking to form an interconnected mega-barrier.

This meant that even if I managed to diminish or even remove one of the barriers, the other two still remained to maintain the constraint.  I remained trapped.

Even more insidiously, they were so splendidly interwoven that even when I removed one of them, the other two’s roots could still nourish whatever fragment that remained, allowing it to regrow and return.  Gah!

Which was pretty vexing!  I’d seen the thing, I’d done the work, I’d moved it to the side… so why wasn’t I freer?  Why was I still tripping up?  Why were my possibilities being stunted?  Why did I keep getting snarled?  Gah, again!

By bringing mindfulness to the fore, I could let it just play out while remaining present in the inquiry, and I began to catch glimpses of the Triumvirates.  I began to see their triple Neapolitan nature, how they operated on me, and of the way they linked together.  How fascinating they were!

I gave them their name.  And with that, I could begin to untangle them.  I could see them for what they were and learn how to complete them and move the barrier to the side while preventing them from recreating each other.

Of course, as with everything else in the art of living, it’s an ongoing project, and new barriers arise all the time. But this is no longer one of my blind spots, and with that comes new freedom, choice, and joy.

 

* Of course, they weren’t evil per se… they just were.  And had an unproductive impact on me.  But, like with the Diapoles, making it fun to say was important, both to keep it present and also to disarm them.   Making them out to be hilariously melodramatic and almost cartoonish evil shadowy figures hanging out near the margins immediately decreased the likelihood of me taking them too gosh darn seriously, which automatically diminished their hold on me.

** And the poorer experience of life that went along with it.  And, also, the lesser results that came from acting within that/those constraint(s)…

Wonder Wednesday

Pale Blue Dot, 1990, taken 6 billion km from earth by the Voyager 1 spacecraft, the last photograph it took during its mission, enhanced by modern computing techniques in 2020.

The Day the Earth Smiled, 2013, taken from the orbit of Saturn by the Cassini spacecraft.

Link to a wonderful article describing how both photos came to be.

And if you’ve not heard Carl Sagan’s Pale Blue Dot thoughts, do so here:

Philosophy Tuesday

Sometimes, it is a big, massive, sideswiping thing that knocks us into a tailspin.

Other times, it is a series of smaller things that will send us into the downward spiral.

Those things can happen all at once.

Or maybe they pile up over time.

And sometimes there is a multitude of background poop that is so ubiquitous we don’t even recognize it is there anymore, we’ve become so accustomed to it.  And then all it takes is a small nudge and vwoop!  Down we go.

It can be so tempting to belittle those breakdowns and, more harshly, to make people wrong for losing it over such “small things.”

But we can do much better for ourselves, and for others, than to fall into that reductive trap and consider only large things or events as “worthy” or “proper” or “justifiable” causes of great malaise.

We can cast our empathy and mindfulness nets wide and know that we’re not seeing the whole picture.*

We can grant a bit of space and compassion and create a clearing for resolution and peace of mind.

We can pull ourselves out of the tailspin, regain our heading, and plot a course for sunnier skies.

 

* This, of course, is especially true in the case of other people, since we’re not there in their head and in their experience 100% of the time.  Especially when they’re at the outsized effect of outside impacts, limitations, and burdens due to social, economic, racial, gender, familial, and etc factors…

 

Philosophy Tuesday

It’s rather remarkable how adaptive we (as human beings) are.  I’m not speaking only about our geographic reach, as expansive as that is.  I mean just about anything and everything.  All so quickly, things, situations, systems, dynamics, societies, and etc all begin to feel normal.   And not just normal, but everlasting, intrinsic, and even right.  Like that’s how its supposed to be.  And like how there’s no way it could be any other way.

It’s reality.

Which, of course, is caca.  If there’s one thing for certain, it is that things change.**  We are always, ongoingly, creating ourselves, creating our communities, creating our systems, and creating our culture.  When we get lost in that feel of normalcy, that’s when we can get stuck creating the same thing over and over and over again.  Perhaps inadvertently doing so, but the effect is the same.  Inside the rut, possibility is greatly stifled.

That said, again of course, it’s not bad that we are so adaptive!  It’s great that we don’t smell the sewer after a few minutes.  Or that the lake stops feeling cold after jumping in.  Or that great shifts soon feel much less disruptive.***  But, like just about everything else that comes with being human, there are aspects of it that are empowering, and aspects that are disempowering and even destructive.

By remembering this great capacity of ours we can remain mindful to see where we’re letting something slide.  Where we’re giving things that are harmful, or don’t work work, or aren’t right or just or equitable or verdant, or anything of that sort, giving them the automatic pass and thinking “well, it’s just how it is.”  Or, worse, getting caught up in it all and doubling down on it.

Here’s where we can step out of the adaptiveness ruse.  Nothing is inherent.  Nothing is intractable.  We hold the agency for ourselves and who we are being, for our relationships, and with the communities and societies we ongoingly build.

 

*  From the frigid arctic to the intense deserts, all without the use of what we consider “modern and necessary technology” – which is a whole avenue of exploration in of itself!  But to quip shortly about it here, we have done a lot and even thrived with just our wits and less fragility… AND that’s just it, isn’t it?  It’s the same main thrust of this post:  we’ve become accustomed to and thus adapted to a very narrow temperature range, and anything outside of those bounds feels like death.

** Not always for the ‘better’, which is another reason why this feeling of normalcy can be so deleterious, for it will allow the ‘little’ normals to become ‘big’ normals very quickly, and if those little normals are not great, then the effects and harm also spread and become widespread.

*** To whit was how, in short order, the way of working, remembering my mask, new ways of communicating, and etc all due to the pandemic started to feel most normal.