I have been listening to an audiobook by Yuval Noah Harari called "21 Lessons for the 21st Century". It quickly became clear that Mr. Harari is far smarter than me, or at least better educated, but I appreciate that he reigns in it to help me understand the future that I face as a redundant worker. I had to stop listening actually as I felt overwhelming despair, especially in light of recent events, namely CoVid 19. But I had a fierce realization the other day, one of those that live deep in my belly or my brain that I only unearth when I get to the bottom of my darker emotions. It was the knowledge that what makes me human is the choices I make.
The book is about the ever increasing presence of AI in our daily lives making decisions for us because we give over decision making. We trust them to choose better than we choose. Perhaps they do because they can, as an algorithm, use far more data than you or I can, even if we bother to do the research, which I do, but minimally. I google it, read a couple of pages tops, and make my choice.
It is comforting to let someone or something else make my choice for me. It removes that sense of responsibility; it allows me to trust and to rest in that trust because the world is overwhelming. There are so many choices to make every single day. It is exhausting.
But it is making those choices that I exercise my free will and my humanity. It is where I am not redundant nor am I a victim of circumstance or a victim of an algorithm. I want to surrender the choice when it comes to things that I know my knowledge is limited, say in legal or medical matters or architecture, or building pretty much anything. Seriously, I could go on and on about the things I do not know. But if I surrender my gut instinct, than I truly am redundant.
My gut instinct is different than my impulse. My impulse is a fickle thing that is shaped by pretty much anything, culture, advertising, the opinion of others. It is easy to take that impulse for truth. Take body image for example, something I struggle with. Most of that struggle is due to outside influences. Fear of rejection, in all of its forms, is at its base. But I can move past the superfluous and take a look at my body and how it is functioning, I can get to my gut instinct. That instinct tells me to drink more water, take a deep breath, go for a walk, choose a vegetable to eat. It doesn't rattle on about pant sizes or how I look to myself or others. It can see that cause and effect relationship outside of emotion.
The frustrations I wrote about the other day were mostly due to fear, both mine and that of others. Collectively, we have been acting mostly from a place of impulse. I do not wish to surrender my choices to any one or to any thing. I wish to choose my skills as a human, my brain, my gut instinct, my thoughtful consideration. There are certainly things outside of my control. Lot of things, actually; there always are. But I choose rational, considered contemplation which makes me who I am, to propel me through each day.
I think prayer and or meditation can help separate impulse from reason. I have been told, in my former churchgoing years, to surrender to God. To "let go and let God" was a phrase. Let "God take the wheel". What are those people talking about? Seriously, I do not know. Unless God is another name for that deep instinct I am talking about. I could not surrender and have never understood how others could.
I could not drift. I remember trying to have and out of body experience when I was in my early 20s. A gal was trying to get me to relax and surrender. I can relax, but I cannot give over. There is always a part of me observing the goings on, curious, but fully intact, not surrendering. But to let all of that impulse talk itself out, so to speak, can help to get to the bottom of things, to what is real, to what is human and not a victim of advertising or political catch phrases.
At my core, I am neither good nor bad. I simply am. I am a heart beat and the movement of blood and other matter from place to place. I have an energy that is not contained within my skin and makes up my personal space. The form and function of the physical and energetic components of me can change all of the time, adapt and transform, react or ignore. And I have an amount of say in the matter because of how I choose. I will never be redundant in my own life.
Monday, April 13, 2020
Saturday, April 11, 2020
A new normal
My husband has been working from home since March 3rd, so that gives me a general timeline when I start to lose track of time and days and years. I suppose it started a bit before that, maybe a week before when people began panic shopping. Seems like ages ago and only yesterday.
Our shelves were getting cleaned out of hand sanitizer and elderberry syrup then aloe vera gel and oil of oregano. Then zinc and vitamin C vanished. Finally, what should have been first, the hand soap started to sell out. And this is just in my department.
People would look at me and ask why I haven't ordered more and when it was going to come in. They would demand and demand and demand. As things progressed, more people understood the scarcity, but still others would sigh dramatically and mutter, "I can't believe you don't have zinc." I am their problem. I am their inconvenience. They lay this on me. And I take it as best I can. Sometimes my voice is a little harsh as I try to put a smile on my face or maybe it is just a grimace.
Over these last weeks, things have shifted to a surreal normalcy. People still ask and now I often have what they are looking for. Maybe not as many choices as before, but I can at least offer them something. Yet I still get the annoyance from folks who say, "I got this shampoo from here before!" indignant that it is no longer available. Sometimes it is a stock issue, but it is also a shift in product choices that comes from the corporate office, not from me or my co-workers in the shop. People call and ask if I have a product and if I say I am out of it, they ask if another store would have it. I am sorry, I do not have access to their inventory. While in my head I am screaming at them for the fact they think I can know this thing.
I am not sick. They are not sick. But there is a malaise that rests over everything like a fine dust of toxic particles. Every day when I take a shower, I sit on the floor and let the water wash over me. I used to do it as a teen to help wash away the mood that had come over me. It used to help. It doesn't now. I drink a bit more than I once did, but again, that isn't helping. I try and sleep and wake with vivid anxiety dreams. I am walking most days now and that helps most of the time, but not always. Some days, nothing helps.
I am desperate for something normal, something that makes sense. My son turns 18 and will have dinner at home like every other day. My daughter graduated from college to me humming Pomp and Circumstance as loudly as I could.
I am not alone in my hope that this will change us to be better. To be kinder. But I don't think it will. I grasp desperately at the home videos of people doing silly, every day things. I play ridiculously boring video games and read shallow romances to distract me. I eat with the same goal. Distract me. But I am bitter and intolerant, less kind, less compassionate than I used to be. Screaming in my head. I feel like I am a disappointment to everyone, my friends, my family, my community, my self, except to my dog. To my dog, I am a great human. I don't feel heroic for going to work. I am glad to get out of the house.
I try and walk around my yard to pay attention to the signs of spring, of change. Spring is the season of hope and transformation. A celebration that you did not die during the winter. Another chance to grow and to flourish. It is the one thing that helps. There is no emotion in it, simply tenacity and the ability to bend around obstacles. My path has been altered, there will always be a scar marking this time in my life. I want to get back to cultivating kindness, but for now, I can only show up.
Our shelves were getting cleaned out of hand sanitizer and elderberry syrup then aloe vera gel and oil of oregano. Then zinc and vitamin C vanished. Finally, what should have been first, the hand soap started to sell out. And this is just in my department.
People would look at me and ask why I haven't ordered more and when it was going to come in. They would demand and demand and demand. As things progressed, more people understood the scarcity, but still others would sigh dramatically and mutter, "I can't believe you don't have zinc." I am their problem. I am their inconvenience. They lay this on me. And I take it as best I can. Sometimes my voice is a little harsh as I try to put a smile on my face or maybe it is just a grimace.
Over these last weeks, things have shifted to a surreal normalcy. People still ask and now I often have what they are looking for. Maybe not as many choices as before, but I can at least offer them something. Yet I still get the annoyance from folks who say, "I got this shampoo from here before!" indignant that it is no longer available. Sometimes it is a stock issue, but it is also a shift in product choices that comes from the corporate office, not from me or my co-workers in the shop. People call and ask if I have a product and if I say I am out of it, they ask if another store would have it. I am sorry, I do not have access to their inventory. While in my head I am screaming at them for the fact they think I can know this thing.
I am not sick. They are not sick. But there is a malaise that rests over everything like a fine dust of toxic particles. Every day when I take a shower, I sit on the floor and let the water wash over me. I used to do it as a teen to help wash away the mood that had come over me. It used to help. It doesn't now. I drink a bit more than I once did, but again, that isn't helping. I try and sleep and wake with vivid anxiety dreams. I am walking most days now and that helps most of the time, but not always. Some days, nothing helps.
I am desperate for something normal, something that makes sense. My son turns 18 and will have dinner at home like every other day. My daughter graduated from college to me humming Pomp and Circumstance as loudly as I could.
I am not alone in my hope that this will change us to be better. To be kinder. But I don't think it will. I grasp desperately at the home videos of people doing silly, every day things. I play ridiculously boring video games and read shallow romances to distract me. I eat with the same goal. Distract me. But I am bitter and intolerant, less kind, less compassionate than I used to be. Screaming in my head. I feel like I am a disappointment to everyone, my friends, my family, my community, my self, except to my dog. To my dog, I am a great human. I don't feel heroic for going to work. I am glad to get out of the house.
I try and walk around my yard to pay attention to the signs of spring, of change. Spring is the season of hope and transformation. A celebration that you did not die during the winter. Another chance to grow and to flourish. It is the one thing that helps. There is no emotion in it, simply tenacity and the ability to bend around obstacles. My path has been altered, there will always be a scar marking this time in my life. I want to get back to cultivating kindness, but for now, I can only show up.
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