The New Abnormal

In the wake of recent events – the Covid-19 pandemic, widespread social unrest, and an economy which has nose-dived – many have suggested that what we are experiencing is “the new normal”.  As one dictionary defines normal as “conforming to the standard or the common type”, wouldn’t the begged question have to be: What exactly is or isn’t standard and common?  There have been epidemics and pandemics throughout our history; there has been social unrest; our economy has ebbed and flowed with regard to unemployment, productivity, the stock market, etc. 

While there will undoubtedly be changes in our day to day lives going forward (hopefully we can finally do away with the handshake, a germ-sharing practice which originated in the 5th century B.C., and social distancing will become part of our culture to some degree), I wonder how “normal” our lives were before. When one looks at things like the buying power of the middle class (sometimes referred to as the “middle 20%”), which has stair-stepped down since the early 1980s, the undeniable fact is that the rich are getting richer and poor poorer. Over half a million Americans were homeless for at least a portion of 2019. Our government is wracked with corruption and ineptitude. Many of our customs and beliefs are steeped in ignorance and narrowmindedness. And this is normal? 

Whatever the “new normal” becomes, it is my sincere and fervent hope that it includes a generous portion of compassion, and empathy, and fairness, and integrity, and critical thinking. A desire to grasp that our journeys are not the same and our modes of transporting ourselves along this trek vary widely. The ability to connect on a deeper level, and understand that we are much more alike than different. 

The new normal: may it not be like the old.

Nice Unknowing You

“Everything comes and goes” sang Joni Mitchell on Down to You from her 1974 double platinum album Court and Spark, “marked by lovers and styles of clothes”.  And, anyone who’s blown out as many birthday candles as I knows this full well.  It’s a constant stream of interactions, this thing we call life; a highway with innumerable intersections, clover-leafs, and exit ramps.

As I’ve alluded to in other writings, many of our relationships in this “day and age” are transient.  Fleeting and withering, our acquaintances often take flight like leaves on the Autumn breeze.  The bff from high school, the co-worker from two jobs back, the former neighbor that promised they’d keep in touch, sometimes gradually, other times it’s a here today, gone tomorrow scenario.  Like gears in a cosmic machine we mesh, then shift to mesh with other gears.

Sometimes we “grow apart”, as its generally phrased, other times we “don’t have time” for those in our periphery any longer.  And on occasion, we just come to a place where we simply no longer see eye to eye.

But everyone you’ve ever known has touched you in some way, and you are who you are – to a large degree – because of those interactions.  We are social creatures, and we should never underestimate the impact those whom we’ve been privileged to know have left on our lives, and we on theirs.

If I may be allowed a second lyrical reference, Billy Joel exemplified my point in his song Say Goodbye to Hollywood: So many faces in and out of my life, some will last, some will be just now and then.

So treasure the lives that have touched yours, if only for a time and a season, and know you have also touched theirs.

If only for a time and a season.

A World Not of Our Making

It seems many of us these days have found ourselves in a world which is increasingly alien.  There are strange doings afoot, bizarre and unsettling to our nature.  You can hear it in the voices of our seniors, an unspoken longing for a time which bears little resemblance to present day.  We see it in the eyes of our young parents, once wide-eyed and energetic, now praying for a bolt from the blue to knock them silly, as the peace and solitude of a hospital bed is preferable to their exhausting existence.  We plod through our endless, unfulfilling workday.  At marketplaces, and parks, and places of worship we congregate, occasionally catching another’s gaze, each wondering how much humanity the other has retained. We read the day’s headlines wondering if the world has lost its collective minds.   We stare blankly off into nothingness, wondering how, and when, things went off the rails. 

We increasingly escape into the relative comfort and predictability of some alternate existence, of video games, and virtual reality, and a cyber-verse of avatars where we can be whatever and whomever we like. 

We populate a world in which most of us have ever diminishing amounts of control, however much we want to believe otherwise.  We rage against a machine which draws evermore power from our efforts; we light candle after candle, and still curse the darkness.  We watch, perplexed, as yet another familiar hallmark of our existence spirals off into the void.

Some have become acclimated to this new world quite well actually.  They have prospered and flourished and found their niche.  But this is not a tale of boot-strapping, and adapting, and seeing the glass as perpetually half-full.  Rather this is a testament to those who awakened one day, looked around, and asked, as David Byrne put it: “well, how did I get here?”  Those whose lives no longer seem to be based on a true story.

For them, this world is one of convergence, as fantasy merges with stark reality, past with future, in an odd mesh of tapestry, constantly being rewoven.

This is not the world we want, or remember, or thought we’d inherit, and we feel powerless to change it.  Whether we actually can or not is the subject for another day, for this rumination is about thoughts and feelings, and a hazy, electrified gray cloud which has enveloped us.  This is not your “feel good” story.  Rather, this is a story about a world which we did not create, but must inhabit; a world which bore, and will ultimately consume us.

 
This is a story about surviving, and existing, and getting by with what’s left.

Six Billion Degrees of Separation

Most everyone has heard of Six Degrees of Separation. So had I, but - I couldn't tell you exactly what it was. So I wik'd it. And - I still can't tell you exactly what it is. But I now know that it is or was 1. a play, 2. a Facebook application, and 3. a game of some sort involving actor Kevin Bacon. I still don't get that part of it, but I digress.

Six Degrees of Separation is also a theory which basically postulates that if Person A knows Person B, and Person B knows Person C, and Person C knows Person D, and Person D knows Person E, then Person A must know Person E. (You can substitute colors or General Motors car models for the letters - it works out the same.) Of course like any theory, this one had to be tested. And tested it was. And - is still being tested. Theorists, mathematicians, and psychologists chose up sides to argue either for or against the validity of the theory. And, while interesting enough, the point of the theory is in my opinion, moot.

Growing up in a small city in Southwest Virginia, we had three radio stations: rock, country and what they used to call easy listening (Tony Bennett and Henry Mancini and the like). There were three TV channels. So, at any given time I could usually tell with some degree of certainty what TV show my neighbors were watching, or to what radio station the car going down the street was tuned. There was one newspaper, so everybody got the same slant on everything. And, since it was such a small city, the six degrees theory would absolutely have proven true there; it was probably closer to three or four degrees.

In other words, we were connected by the sameness, the sheer banality of our existence.

But that is not my point.

Today there are thousands of TV and radio stations. There's the internet. There are billions of hexadecimal bits of voice, data, and images pinging off satellites every second of every day. People located on three different continents can engage in a web meeting, each seeing and hearing the other as if they were in the next room. Today, when you take photos of your vacation, you do not have to wait until you're back home and the photos are developed so you can have everyone over to watch "slides". Thanks to cell phone cameras, your friends and co-workers can see them in real-time. As it's happening. Today I could not begin to tell you what TV station my neighbors are watching, or if they're listening to their iPod, or playing online Scrabble with 1,500 other people. Today, there are dozens of social networking sites where people can catch up on every minute detail of what you are thinking, feeling and doing at any moment. They even give you emoticons to communicate your mood, if you don't feel like typing it out.

But that is also not my point.

Several years back I was driving home from somewhere or another. It was late at night and there was nothing much on the radio. I happened upon a person talking about the unequal relationship between society and technology. He noted that society was foolishly embracing technology as some kind of ethereal, benevolent savior. Foolishly because, as he noted, society needs technology, whereas technology does not need society. Technology is decidedly not human, and we of course are 100% human. Technology does not need food, water, or an HMO. It does not care if the power grid on the East coast of the United States goes down, or if a computer virus infects tens of thousands of users. Technology will not shed the first tear if every satellite, receiver, transponder, router and iPhone simultaneously burst into flames. Yet we cling to the belief that technology has somehow brought us - the roughly six billion inhabitants of planet Earth - closer together.

Whereas I believe the exact opposite is true.

It is specifically because we have so many options that we are now more engaged with the technology than we are each other. Because of the aforementioned social networking sites, I know that this or that acquaintance had a "bad day", but often I do not have the opportunity to look into that person's eyes and relate - one human being to another - to their angst. Or that another downloaded a song from their favorite artist, but we will not sit on opposite ends of a sofa and listen, with one or the other (or both) breaking into an air guitar solo.

Don't get me wrong - I think it's great that we have the technology. We can post photos and videos, and send little messages to each other. We can engage in general silliness or send heartfelt best wishes or condolences. But what's missing here is the human touch, and we humans like physical contact. We are a touchy-feely species.

So here we are, the roughly six billion inhabitants of planet Earth, enveloped within a virtual blizzard of electromagnetic waves, but in many ways further apart than at any other time in history. But, there are things we can do. Look up that friend that lives across town and invite them to lunch. Have your parents or in-laws over for dinner. Take a batch of fresh-baked cookies (or a pitcher of margaritas) to that neighbor you occasionally nod to over the backyard fence. Turn off the TV, log off the computer, turn off the cell phone. Get out. Go for a walk, and smile at anyone you may encounter along the way. Go to a park. Give your spouse or child or significant other a hug and a kiss the next time you see them. Tell them what they mean to you. Help a child with their homework, or an elderly neighbor with their yardwork. Do volunteer work at a retirement home, or hospital or hospice. And know that although you are but one of six billion, every day you have an opportunity to enrich other's lives, to connect on a personal level, to become more human.

And then - then you'll know that the number of degrees which separates us has been reduced by one.