Never Say Never

May 112016
 
because I said so

max mead

We humans are so contrary.

We know what we know. We feel what we feel. We express ourselves with aggressive assurance. We’re not simply secure in our certitude. We are empowered by it. We say so, mostly by letting the world know what we will not do or say or accept.

We’re becoming a nation of never-sayers.

I get that we’re all compelled to comment. Why not, when social media makes sharing opinions easy? I’m doing just that with this essay. I’ve even made some money editorializing.  Sometimes we just want to contribute or share in a communal sense of belonging. Far more often, though, it seems we’re prodded by our visceral reactions to register our objections.

Some of this is born out of our penchant for indignation. As I’ve noted elsewhere, we become so incensed so often by so many things that we lose any sense of proportion. Not all things require moral outrage.

“I never” is an absolute statement. The problem with such statements is they’re absolute. There’s no wiggle room, no possible change. Sure there are things we don’t or won’t do, actions that are morally reprehensible or profoundly uncomfortable. There are lines we don’t want to cross. And sometimes we need to take a stand.

On the other hand, flexibility doesn’t automatically indicate a lack of ethical fiber. Sometimes it simply demonstrates an understanding of life’s realities. Sometimes positions evolve and thoughts are redirected by experience. Not everyone who has a change of heart is calculating. Not everyone who refuses to change is noble.

never animationThe unconditional declaration carries about it the whiff of moral superiority, especially when it’s inappropriately deployed. “I never eat meat” isn’t an offensive stance but why bring it up, as one commenter did, in a forum about the best way to cook hamburger? And if you “never watch television,” we lovers of “Game of Thrones” don’t need to hear from you.

Those are exaggerated examples. It’s obvious that one can stick to one’s preferences without inadvertently (or purposefully) shaming someone whose tastes are different.

finger-in-earsBut in these fraught times, the never-sayers are invading discussions about more serious issues.  There is no dialogue, only my (right) way and your (wrong) way. Our political leaders have set the tone. The U.S. Congress has, for eight years, said “no” and “never” to nearly everything. Now this new “never” land we walk through threatens discussion, not to mention any chance of cooperation or consensus.

The situation isn’t unique to one country, of course. Digging in one’s heels seems to be a global problem.

I’m not a fan of “never.” I know there are people who believe it represents strength, resilience, even courage. To me it’s a dead-end, a closed door, a steel trap, less principled than petulant.
 
never

Relevance

Feb 232016
 

Relevance is in. It’s how we measure everything. What’s trending? What’s hot? What earns the clicks, the comments, or the buzz? How does that translate into currency?

I admit I struggle with the concept. Have for years. Who is listening to me? Who is reading what I write? How do I extend my reach? How will I know if I’ve achieved relevance?

The dictionary definition of relevance is “being connected to the matter at hand.” That’s vague enough to induce an anxiety attack. What is the matter at hand? How do we know? How often does it change? Who decides?

We do, “we” being an aggregate. Our impulses, our needs and our desires are reflected in circles of relevanceour comments as well as our purchases. We affect and are affected by everyone else. We participate in and succumb to group-think. Everything we like, buy, rate or consume is quantified and measured. The results are used to determine what is offered to us, whether it’s commentary or the latest must-have thing.

Relevance breaks us out of the pack. Without it, we’re in the back row, out of the loop, powerless, maybe even voiceless.

Products and ideas struggle to be relevant. So do people. Irrelevance feels like invisibility. How many of us have tried to give a speech or teach a class to a roomful of people looking at their smart phones? I played piano bar for many years, which is only marginally less deflating. The job entails soothing without disrupting. The goal is to be ignored. It’s a profoundly disappointing way to entertain.

As Google helpfully points out, “artists and politicians are always worried about their relevance. If they are no longer relevant, they may not keep their job.”

So true. Ask any writer trying to come up with the perfect post-Harry Potter/Divergent/Hunger Games young adult novel. Ask any songwriter trying to come up with the next “Hello”, “Happy” or “Uptown Funk.” Ask any politician in 2016.

It’s not just artists and politicians who feel the pull of relevancy. Everyone worries about being important. At work, relevance becomes all about keeping the company at the leading edge of its field. At home, parents compete with the latest app or social media meme for significance in their children’s lives. It’s hard to be a knowing role model when the Internet provides all the answers.

Although relevancy (like everything else) seems amplified, it’s not a new concept. We want to be connected. We want to feel important. We want to stand up and shout, “Hey, I’m here!” The wealthy often insist on naming rights to buildings. Perhaps they hope their money can help them stay eternally connected. Legacy establishes immortality. The donor is relevant every time someone enters the [Your Name Here] Science Center.

erasing relevanceThe older we get, the less clear we are about how to be relevant or even how or where we might connect to what matters. Children grow up and move away. Spouses and siblings die. We are eased out of jobs and into a life of enforced leisure marked by secret struggles or stretches of isolation.

At some point, it may seem meaningless to think about being relevant. We can’t all be insiders. If our goal is to cast a really wide net of influence, we’re up against impossible odds. Some of us give up. Others continue to push back against obsolescence. What are we doing?

do-i-matterWe’re trying to connect. We want to count or be counted. That’s what it’s all about. Somebody cares, somebody needs us, somebody is listening to us. We want to influence something, no matter how small that something is. That’s what floats our boat, gets us up in the morning, and makes us smile. I matter, you matter; we matter.

I argued in Hope in Small Doses that a life of purpose can just as easily involve sharing information as curing cancer. It’s not the scale; it’s the intent. We can be relevant by being a best-selling author or by being a damn good storyteller. We can shape change by running for office or by spending time with a friend in need. Relevance doesn’t require we compete for prominence unless our goal is to have an effect on the greatest number of people. In which case, we’re out of luck. There’ll always be someone with more followers or more money or more power. The next day or week or year, another person will come along to claim the influence crown.

I’ll be honest: I don’t always find it easy to embrace a more intimate definition of relevance. I’m a writer and I want to reach as many people as possible. That puts me in competition with others also vying for the attention of a public we’re trying to influence, enlighten, educate or entertain. We can’t all be relevant, can we?

Yes, we can: maybe to one or ten instead of a thousand or a million. The challenge is to acknowledge that we are all connected to the matter at hand by virtue of being alive.

Anger Management

Feb 022016
 

Insdie Out Anger

I have a temper. I suspect it’s inherited; I offer a tip of the hat to dear old dad.

Being uncomfortable with confrontation, I try to control the impulse to explode. This isn’t always helpful as it produces a surly muttering version of me. So when I need to yell, I yell—in my room or in the car. In private.

As someone whose temper sometimes flares, I work very hard not to employ anger as a weapon. Mine is more about frustration anyway. Common irritants include lousy customer service, my aching back, challenging bureaucracy, bouts of loneliness and the rise of dis- and misinformation. Hard to blame any one person for all those feelings.

I’ve been reading about American anger, especially as it applies to the electorate. You know the mantra: We feel insecure. We live in unpredictable, scary times. Oh, and don’t try telling anyone it’s always been this way. People have short memories as well as short fuses.

What bothers me is so much voter anger is fueled by massive quantities of misinformation and significant misdirection. Too many people are led to believe “X” is both important and true or, maybe worse, they don’t care if it’s true because it feels significant. They are willing to direct their fury at identified bogeymen because it’s both easier and emotionally satisfying.

Look: Politics in America have always been nasty and voters have often fallen for dirty tricks. Nothing new. During the 1828 Presidential campaign, the accusations about John Quincy Adams and Andrew Jackson (mostly Jackson) included murder, adultery, corruption and sex for hire. Adams was horrified at the tenor of the stories and avoided the dirt. Jackson, angered by charges against him, eagerly participated. Jackson won.

Anger in politics? Also not new. Hitler’s rise to power was built on his ability to foment anger by identifying the supposed villains who had robbed the German people of greatness. Mideast politics seem to be a cycle of repression, anger, change and repression.

Not new but still depressing in America in 2016. Those of us who believe in evolution keep hoping human beings have progressed. Imagine a world where people demonstrate a willingness to come together to create practical solutions to difficult problems. Now imagine a world where the worst of humankind keeps triumphing over the best. Which world do you want?

Anger can unite. It can encourage action. It can bring about change. It can also incite violence or bring people under the sway of a charismatic demagogue. Public anger can turn on a dime, which is why we must take care to manage it carefully.

angry bird

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