Seth Godin had a post yesterday that got me thinking about the filtered self. I completely agree that, over time, the incentive structure of our digital lives has flipped from a filtered self to an unfiltered one. To the point now, many will say something online (even anonymously) that they would never have the guts to say in person to a neighbor, co-worker, boss, spouse, child, friend, etc. What’s interesting is how this has evolved into being “authentic.” And what continues to fascinate me is how humans create a moral framework to justify violence. Not all violence is led with a fist.
The iPhone changed the world. But was it a positive change? It made life very efficient when you can have talk and text in your pocket. Add in email, calendar, weather, GPS—what a tool! But now, we have data. We are always online. So much so, many of us are staring at a screen longer than seeing what is actually happening in the world. The person who invented the ship also accidentally invented the ship wreck. And now we are experiencing a shipwreck in our mental health.
Most of us set out to change the world for the better. But rarely do we stop to ask if this is something humanity wants? Are we ready for it? And with AI being supercharged with the help of the market—no one stopped to ask if this is something we wanted. It’s showing up. Time will tell if it will be the last great invention or if it will be a glorified chat box.
AI can replicate a script. And can give directors notes. And even set the schedule. But it can’t go on stage. It can’t do everything, no matter what people say is possible. There is no substitute for play.
Seems like a reasonable option when something will never work. That’s what makes relationships so difficult to end when there has been such an investment. Not only is there the investment piece, but when you squint, you can see a path where it could work. So, we need to be clear—when is it a good time to throw in the towel with a job, a relationship, a project, or whatever?
Be clear if it is possible or not. It is possible to lose weight with a high-protein diet, exercise (lifting weights), 10,000 steps per day, and 8 hours of sleep consistently for an extended period. It’s impossible to defy gravity and fly. You can’t break the laws of physics. Juxtapose that with the fact that it probably isn’t possible to start a nonprofit that will change the entire world or to develop a vaccine that’ll cure cancer. Someone may do that. But it probably won’t be you either.
Hope is necessary. But a Hail Mary isn’t a good strategy either.
One explanation for erratic behavior is framing. Why would someone do something that seems, from the outside, so erratic? Because it is easier to do than the thing they most fear. In other words, it might be easier to have an affair than it is to break up with your spouse. It seems easier to have another treat and convince yourself to start dieting next week. It seems reasonable to stick an iPad in front of the kid who won’t stop yelling at a restaurant. And on and on. It’s all about a point-of-view problem. When we live within the struggle, the best option can seem the most daunting. And we can trick ourselves into believing we need to wait for a miracle, which isn’t much of a strategy, since you’ll be waiting a long time for nothing to change. The power is in us. Always has been.
In sports such as hockey, basketball, and football, the tendency is to think about moving forward. When you get better, side-to-side opens new doors. Elite athletes, however, know how to change pace and step back to go forward.
It’s counterintuitive to think this way. But it’s useful when navigating the field/court.
The culture has trained us to move forward constantly. Sometimes stepping back allows us to step forward. Because it is drilled into us to always move forward, it can feel like we are being left behind. This isn’t true. In fact, it’s just a lie we are telling ourselves when we feel uncomfortable with slowing down.
It seems that the more we have, the more we fear losing, which makes sense why the wealthiest 1% might find ways to hide their money from the government or bend the rules of ethics to get more. Not only does our narrative drive our decisions, but our fear too.
Grief is love with no path to go. We don’t know where to put the love anymore. Making it difficult to cope with the moment.
Being unprepared for the test because you didn’t study is an easy fix.
Feeling unprepared after preparing is performance anxiety.
Usually, it’s because there are no redos.
Climbing has a term for this, “the onsight.” It’s your first go, with no beta, and you have to climb it without falling, which isn’t bad if the climbing is below your grade. But as you progress to climb at your hardest, the onsight gets very difficult.
The point is, preparing for an onsight is a different skill versus getting to try again and again. And we don’t often practice to perform the first go, which in the end is a different skill set.
Life resembles way more like an onsight.
“I hope the bureaucracy of this organization changes things around here.”
Said no one. No one seems to like it, yet we surround ourselves with it. Why? I think (and I don’t think it’s the only reason) is that rules and processes insulate us to justify our jobs. So that when change comes, we don’t get fired. The interesting thing about the work we do is how much we can’t admit that our job is what David Graeber would call “bull shit.” If we really were honest with ourselves, how many productive hours per week do you actually do? The answer is probably more than zero but certainly less than 40. Even the open heart surgeon has to fill out paperwork that they find useless to feed the machine of bureaucracy.
Change doesn’t happen with systems. Systems enable behavior. They can enhance it. But in the end, its action. More accurately, the courage to take action that changes the way things are done.
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