Musings

There are many ways to handle the situations that come up in our lives, particularly those that hold the most potential for conflict.  Of course, the reasonable, default behavior is to avoid conflict outright.  Avoiding conflict results in behaviors such as avoidance, denial, neglect, and, worst of all, complete and total silence.  While it is reasonable to want to avoid conflict, it is not realistic to think that avoiding conflict will do anything other than delay the inevitable.  Once conflict boils, it never cools down.  And even if you avoid your involvement, it will eventually burn someone.  It might be someone you know, it might be someone you don’t know.  Rest assured someone will get burned.

Another reasonable response is to focus instead on managing the conflict.  Conflict need not be explosive or unpleasant.  Conflict simply means that there is a struggle between opposing sides.  Any conflict can be managed.  In the end, what determine the nature of the outcome of a conflict are the mindsets of those involved.  When we understand and embrace this, we are provided a window of opportunity in which we can seek to influence the coming series of events.  We cannot always be guaranteed success, but the choice of action over non-action, at minimum, places the reigns in our hands.  We do not have to be victims.

Regardless of the route chosen when we encounter conflict, there is only one correct way to handle it: it is the way that feels most authenticate to you.  This is the One True Way.  Our decisions are informed by many things, but none of these is more important than the inner voice that speaks from the most genuine, authenticate place inside of us.  It is intuition.  It is wisdom.  It is the essence of who we want to be. 

Sometimes, we hear the voice and ignore it.  This often leads to dissatisfaction,.  But sometimes, we hear the voice and act according to the message.  And while the results can never be guaranteed, it is the only way to react to conflict and face the consequences with the understanding that the path was one of our choosing.

There are times when clarity just happens.  

You can’t always plan for it.  You can’t always wish for it.  You can’t always make it happen.  You can try, but at times you get so wrapped up in you that clarity seems almost impossible.  Worse yet, you get so wrapped up in you that you THINK you’re clear as crystal, but, in reality, you are as dim and opaque as a sack of bricks.

Then, there are times when clarity just happens.

It’s like the feeling you get when your ears finally regulate themselves after an ascent in an airplane.  Pop!  Clarity.

The most vital thing, though, is not the clarity itself but what you do with that clarity.  When you can see…what do you do with your sight?  Unfortunately, clarity comes and goes.  I can only speak for myself, but sustaining clarity is just as mysterious a process to me as conjuring it up.  

While I have it, though, I think I am going to go something useful with it.

The vast majority of the technology problems that I deal with or hear about on a daily basis really aren’t technology problems at all.  You see, the biggest technology problems are located between the chair and the keyboard.  That’s right.  The vast majority of technology problems are caused by you.

You puny, squishy, clumsy human.  Or someone like you.

And like me, of course.

Don’t get me wrong.  Some technology problems really are a result of a technical malfunction.  Hard drives do crash.  Circuits do fry.  Components do just…die out.  Faulty equipment is real, and the laws of physics, thermodynamics, and entropy must be obeyed.  But if you could measure all the technology problems in the world and apply a percentage to those that are bona fide technical issues, that percentage would be really, really slim.

That’s where we come in.  Or, better said, that’s where our EXPECTATIONS of technology come in.

All relationships live and die because of expectations.  This is true between human beings, and it holds true for the relationships between humans and their stuff.  We have ideas about how the material world should operate, and when it doesn’t we call it a problem of the OTHER thing, not of our own doing.  This is what happens with technology, too.

So, why should this matter.  It matters because we rely too heavily on technology, and when it doesn’t work…we freeze.  We become helpless for a time.  It’ bizarre, really, when you think about how much less intrusive technology was in our lives 10 years ago.  Yet, today, if the iPhone dies…oh, boy.  There will be HELL to pay if that things isn’t restored to the state that I THINK it should be restored.  I am useless without it.

Contemplate your relationships with technology and your expectations of those relationships.  Then contemplate your relationships with the people you love and your expectations of those relationships.  Which ones are clearer?  Which ones do you articulate to the other party?  For which ones do you fight harder?  I sure hope it’s the relationships with those puny, squishy, clumsy humans that come out on top!

For the record, I don’t own an iPhone.  Too many problems.

A few typos, and we have the title to a movie starring Lorenzo Lamas and Deborah Gibson: “Octopus versus Bees.”  Or something like that.

What I’m really thinking about is how busy I was today and how little I did that seemed worthwhile.  “Worthwhile” is one of those completely subjective English words, so it’s more of an observation than a judgment.  As we like to say in my house, “I am noticing, not judging.”  Although, I suppose I am entitled to judge myself, but…why would I do that to myself?  I mean, isn’t there enough external judgment in the world to go around.  So much so, I’d say, that I needn’t heap any upon myself, that’s for sure.  But, I digress.

I was busy today, but I didn’t do anything that made me feel good at the end of the day.  I would have rather been occupied by tasks that could make a difference in another person’s life.  Busy is mechanical, frenetic.  Occupied is creative, energetic.  I want to be occupied, not made busy.  Is that a childish aspiration?  To end the day feeling good about the stuff that occupied my time, stimulated my senses, and jazzed my soul?  Is it a lot to ask to want to settle down at night with a sense of accomplishment in my heart?  I spend an awful lot of time at work doing work stuff, so feeling like I’m spending my time well and not wasting it is something that’s important to me.  And when I talk about wasting time, I mean that the time I spend away from my wife and my children should be time that makes the world a better place.  What else should be so important that I am away from them for so many hours in each day?

Childish, idealistic, impossible goals.  At work, we say that goals should be specific, measurable, achievable, realistic and timely.  They are SMART goals!  And they guarantee a profitable, efficient, and highly effective organization.  Childish, idealistic, impossible goals would never EVER cut it at a Fortune 100 company.  There are far too many “I”s to dot and “T”s to cross.  The blue copies go to accounting, the pink copies to administration, the yellow copies to the copy place, and the white one gets faxed in with the TPS report.  Remember to use the new coversheet.

I’m down with childish, idealistic, and impossible.  Those the are goals my kids have.  They aspire to such as adventures as traveling to Antarctica, visiting every state in the United States, taking a boat ride down the Amazon River, and spending the night at a museum.  Somewhere along the way, there must be time for changing the world, one childish, idealistic, and impossible goal at a time.

I drove to work in silence yesterday.  For about an hour…no sound other than the world around me.

 

Two days prior to yesterday, I charged up my MP3 player’s battery.  When it was ready, I unplugged it and stuff it into the pocket of my coat.  The next day, my littlest dude was sick.  My wife had to work, so I took a day off work and stayed home with him.  I didn’t use my MP3 player at all.

Yesterday, my morning routine went as normal.  I got in my car and set up my MP3 player.  I loaded an inspirational talk on it, and I intended to begin my morning by listening to it.  I started driving to work.  It was dark out (I get pretty honkin’ early), and a little drizzle was falling.  My car was quiet.  I needed the few minutes it takes to get on the highway to clear my mind, to reset from the day before.  It had been a long day.  Taking care of a sick child can be tiring.  I also took the time to complete a few projects around the house.  The night didn’t go too well.  My wife and I had a disagreement, and…well…in the morning I was still sore from the indignities I had convinced myself that I had suffered the night before.  I am, after all, never in the wrong.

When I was settled, I turned my car radio on and switched over to the input for my MP3 player.  I turned my MP3 player on and started the proper track.  I followed the meditation and breathing instructions, allowed myself to become more centered, and eased into my drive.  At about minute marker 5:37, the voice coming through my speakers said:

“So let’s start off with these two questions: ‘Who aren’t I?’ and ‘Who am I?’”

Pause for dramatic effect.  Perfect intonation at the end, drawing you in, opening the heart and mind.

Silence.  Silence.  OK…a little too dramatic.  No sound came from the speakers other than the hiss of the radio.  The hiss continued, hungrily awaiting the next bit of input from my little digital device.  But nothing came.

I switched over to the FM tuner.  Instantly, the sound of inane morning DJ’s flooded the car as they went on and on nonsensically.  I switched back to my MP3 player immediately.

Nothing.  Silence.

I looked my MP3 player.  It was off.  That struck me as odd.  I turned it back on.  Blue light filled the front of my car as the boot-up sequence started.  Suddenly, the image of a battery filled the screen.  The battery was red indicating that it had no juice.  It shut down again immediately.

Silence.  Then, from inside my mind:

Who aren’t I?  Who am I?

 

Despite the silence outside, on the inside, the words hung heavily in my mind.  I could see them.  I could hear them.

Who aren’t I?  Who am I?

 

A few minutes later, I saw the tail lights of the cars a few yards down the road begin to brighten as they slowed down.  Traffic thickened.  Then, I noticed the flashing red, white, and blue lights of various emergency vehicles.  As I approached, it was clear that there had been an accident on the other side of the highway.  Four cars had been involved, and the two in worst shape were mangled but not overturned.  One of the two was pointing against the traffic.  The remaining two cars were farther behind the first two.  It was obvious they had attempted to stop hard.  In the wet weather, one rear-ended the other.  Between the two sets of cars, an ambulance stood with the rear doors wide open.  Someone on a gurney was being pushed into it. 

Who aren’t I?  Who am I? 

 

The perceived indignities I had suffered the night before didn’t seem quite as important as they previously had.  I wondered if the person being ushered into the ambulance had the chance to think about anything as the accident happened.  I wondered if they had unfinished business from the day before.  I wondered if they had chosen to hold their spouse close the night before.  I wondered if they had ever lost sight of the person they aspire to be.

Who aren’t I?  Who am I? 

I was grateful for those questions.  I felt a deep appreciation for the opportunity to contemplate the answers.

 

Except for the ambient sounds of the world around me, I drove to work in silence yesterday.

 

       

I saw a good question: what is the longest that you’ve held a grudge?  I think it’s a great question.  I also think it’s a question that could have two answers.  It all depends on how you define “holding a grudge.”

You can look at holding a grudge as knowingly, willingly, and egregiously electing to remain in a state of annoyance or wishing ill will upon someone as a result of an altercation, misunderstanding, or serious offense.  In other words, it’s when you’re pissed off at someone and choose to remain pissed off.  Grudges can be held for short intervals of time or they can be held for years, even decades.  They require very little energy to maintain as the offense that initiated the ill will is easily recalled, often in excruciating detail.  This kind of grudge is unhealthy, of course, but it is also often reduced to the realm of trivial.  It’s the kind of thing that people are often embarrassed to admit.  Either that, or it just sounds silly when you explain the problem to somebody else.  Sometimes, the offense is pretty significant, but, again, that’s usually not the case.  Regardless, they are out there.  They are what they are.

You can also look at grudges in a slightly different light.  Most of the same holds true, except this kind of grudge is unconscious.  It is far more insidious and invasive than the conscious variety.  The analogy of cancer fits well, as it slowly destroys you from within.  There is a lack of consciousness of the offense, but its ability to fester and infect is tremendous.  It has the power to destroy, to kill, both figuratively and literally.  These are the kind that last a lifetime.

Why the concern with grudges?  Well, a grudge, whether conscious or not, represents our own insecurity and pain.  We do no harm to the other person.  Not really.  Sure, maybe you can make them uncomfortable, or maybe you can take something away from them, or maybe you can even make it so they lose their job.  But that is less an offense towards the other person than it is a self-inflicted offense.  The damage we can do to ourselves, physically and spiritually, doesn’t even come close to anything we might to do that other person.  The worse our crime against the other, the worse our crime against ourselves.  In the end, there is nothing to be gained.

So, free yourself.  Liberate your heart, your mind, and your soul from the slavery of negative feelings.  They cannot die.  They will not go away on their own.  Time heals nothing.  Action heals everything.  And the greatest healing action is forgiveness.  Forgiveness comes from compassion.  Compassion comes from love.  Forgiveness flows from compassion and love, so how can it not be the ultimate healing action?  It is far easier to give love and compassion to those who have done nothing against you than it is to offer that love and compassion to someone who has.  The first step towards giving is forgiveness.  Forgive and open the door to love.

 If I were to coil a thick rope like a snake and set it on the forest floor next to a hiking trail, it is inevitable that someone would eventually come upon that coil of rope and mistake it for a real snake.  If that person were wearing a helmet attached to a mobile MRI machine, you would be able to see the parts of their brain that went all nutty-active with a fear response and then loads of adrenaline.  You could actually map out the parts of the brain that were involved in that process of registering and then reacting to the snake.  Except they’d realize that it wasn’t a snake, and other parts of their brain would kick in.  You could map those, too.

If you repeated the same experiment except this time with a real snake instead of the rope, you could use your MRI helmet to map the subject’s brain again.  This time, since the snake would be real, the hiker would have other reactions, and you could map the parts of the brain that fire up when someone is running away and screaming about a snake.  

If you took both sets of data and lopped off the divergent point, the moment of realization that the rope wasn’t real, up until that point both sets of data would look the same.  Identical.  The same parts of the brain would be firing in the same sequence, making the same connections, processing the same stimulus, and preparing the same body for a response.  The physical brain response and the emotional response of the individual would be no different.

The weird thing is, the stimulus would actually be different.  The objects in the physical world would actually be different.  The nature of the threat would actually be different.  Yet…to the brain…no different.  

Lesson 1: Perception truly is reality.  My dad always says that, and it is true in ways we don’t quite comprehend.  It doesn’t matter if it really is a snake as long as I think it’s a snake.  My brain says so.

Lesson 2: Our brains often do not distinguish between what is real and what is imagined.  Think on that for a moment or two.  I have heard about and read about this being confirmed in countless studies in countless ways.  The result is always the same: our brains often do not distinguish between what is real and what is imagined.  It works that way with ropes.  It works that way with snakes.  It also works that way with insults.  It works that way when you tell someone that they are stupid.  It works that way when you tell someone that they are worthless.  It works that way when we silently berate ourselves for being fat.  It works that way when we shamefully wish we were someone other than who we are.

But it also works that way when we imagine positive results in our lives.  In works that way when we wish for healing.  It works that way when we smile at ourselves each morning and tell ourselves just how wonderful we really are.  It works that way when you wish for nothing but peace for those you meet.

Sure, the outside world may not always listen to what’s going on in your brain.  It often has its own agenda.  But the outside world might also trick you into believing that a rope is a snake.  Sometimes there really is a snake, but sometimes it’s just a rope.  Sometimes our reality is all about perception.

 I took a break to help me refresh.  At times I put too much stress on myself to be this perfect writer/blogger type.  Then I stop and think about how ridiculous it is to make one of my pure, personal sources of joy a labor.  So, I took a few days break.  Besides, I am trying to land on the correct writing schedule for me that balances my creativity, my time, and my discipline.  Still tinkering…

So, tonight I intended to be brilliant.  Instead, I did this: http://www.dyson-game.com/.  Stay away from Eufloria.  It is addictive.  I have played the DEMO for a game that has sucked me in this hard.  I think they will be earning my money in the not too distant future.

There was a time when I envisioned a life where I worked for myself and traveled the world.  I leveraged technology to keep me in touch with my business, and I could get things done from anywhere I chose.  My wife traveled with me, and we showed our children the world.  It was a good vision.

Obviously, I didn’t convince myself that I could pull it off.  If I had, I’d be writing these updates from a Tuscan villa, a Western-style coffeehouse in Tokyo, or a hotel with a view of Mount Kilimanjaro.  I’m actually writing this from my basement.  It’s getting outside these days.  I’ll be going to bed soon and waking up long before dawn starts to show its crack just so I can get in my car ahead of the rush.

I am grateful for my life and for what I have.  Trust me, I recognize how good I have it.  At the same time, my approach remains too passive.  It must be more active.  Perhaps a part of me didn’t really want that jet-setting lifestyle.  Perhaps part of me did but didn’t believe I had it in me.  Perhaps part of me knew it was possible but was afraid to fail.  Perhaps all of these things are factors.  Even so, tell me this: why should I not have that life I envisioned?  Did the world deprive me?  Certainly not.  Did I deprive myself?  Certainly.  The reason?  Again, could be any number of things.  Who really knows…?  

Well, I suspect I do know.  It’s just a matter of whether or not I’m going to let myself in on the secret.

All I know for sure is this: it is best to live a life created by choices, not a life created by of chance.  The difference between the two is a matter of perspective.  And perspective is all about choice.  

My choice is a life by design.

We experience life through our physical senses and through our cognitive activity.  Our brains are at the epicenter of both of these.  Our physical senses are the way in which we take in the world around us.  I would categorize these into two general groups: the senses which require immediate contact with the environment and the senses which do not require immediate contact and diminish with distance.  One could argue that both sets of senses require some sort of contact with the environment either through interaction with photons (vision) or with airborne particles (smell).  This argument is true, but I believe the idea is what matters: our senses represent our perception of the world around us.  They are mechanical in that they obey the laws of physics and are themselves manifestations of these laws.  They occur without thought.  They are automatic.  

Conversely, cognitive activity is entirely voluntary.  It requires energy above and beyond the mere physical.  Cognitive activity is what knits sensory input together.  It creates stories about the surrounding environment based on things like past experiences, layered sensory data (like the smell and sound of an approaching bear), and behaviors that can be taught.  In humans, creativity, imagination, emotions, and desires are all cognitive activities.  They can occur regardless of sensory input.  The paradox is that there can be no cognitive thought with all of these senses.

Of course, we know this isn’t entirely true.  Loss of or absence of one or more of these senses does not mean that cognitive activity cannot occur.  It just means that we, the average person, cannot perceive that cognitive activity as easily.  I know this young woman who has been living with Rhetts Syndrome (http://www.rettsyndrome.org/) for most of her life, and it is not easy for the casual observer to understand her cognitive activity.  But she is there, as surely as I am, and her brain is functioning, her cognitive processes are active.  They are just a little different than yours or mine.  I’ve seen her laugh.  I’ve seen her be frustrated.  I’ve seen her in pain.  Like I’ve said before, we all share the same basic needs, the same range of emotions.  She is no different.

All of our sense are connected to our brains.  Neurons link the whole hardware infrastructure together.  Synapses and neurotransmitters govern electrical activity in our brains.  Scientists can use machines to peer into our heads and watch pictures of our brains light up when we think, use language, watch a sad movie.  They can pinpoint the areas of our brains that produce language, that process speech, that infer the emotions of others based on photographs.  They can send an electromagnetic pulse through your brain and cause you to misattribute someone’s motivation.  In short, scientists can show us how our brains are connected to our senses physically and operationally.  

But none of them can show us why.  Why we cry.  Why we laugh.  Why we love.  They cannot show us why we assume the worst in someone who has offended us.  They cannot show us why we feel all aflutter when that special someone walks in the room.  They cannot tell us why our hearts feel a tug when we remember old friends fondly.  They cannot tell us why our cheeks flush when we remember old passions.  None of them can tell us why our consciousness works the way it does.

And none of them, not a single one, can point to a part on your body and say, “Here…here is where your soul lives.”

The soul, no matter how you define it, is just above and just outside the reach of science.  And even if someone could say, “This is the part of the brain that we call the soul,” they wouldn’t be able to tell you what it connect to…what lies just beyond it, just behind it.

This is consciousness.