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Observations on Human Connection & Contribution

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Seeking: Observations related to pursuit of self and purpose

#111: Making our physical lives more magnetic

I didn’t grow up with internet and didn’t have my own computer until I moved to the States. I remember writing physical letters not out of novelty but out of need. I remember using calling cards to connect with my family in India, and how distant their voices and lives felt. So I immensely value our abundance of tools and technology; and the ease and opportunity they’ve created in our personal, work and social lives. Every part of my life feels more expansive and fluid than it might have been without these tools. I can safely say that I find this tech-supported bounty undeniably magnetic.

And no matter what side of the tech debate you favor, one thing we can all likely agree on is that the massive leaps underway in computing will make our online lives even more expansive and magnetic: whether it takes the shape of generative AI, quantum computing, Apple’s mixed reality headset or something else. There are plenty of thoughtful perspectives out there on the potential and peril of these technologies so my goal isn’t to probe those here. I want to examine our physical and offline lives a bit.

Most of us already tend to live in and through our intellect, and away from our bodies. Our days pull us deeper and deeper into the mind. We read, write, process information, create and communicate ideas, and have conversations. On turbulent and busy days, we hold our breath, clench our jaw, forget to drink water, and don’t move our bodies. When we don’t have time and mental space to tune-in to the body, we very easily tune out. I’ve lived for years in this tuned-out way. In fact so tuned out from the body that injuries and harmful habits went completely unnoticed even when my body―my precious earthly home―sent me the strongest signals it possibly could. Injuries, aches, lack of sleep, stress-eating and workaholism went easily ignored and suppressed for years. Similarly, it has taken years of patient and countercultural practice to learn to hear my body speak, to step out of the fertile world of my mind and into the awe-inspiring world of my body and physical senses.

Our upcoming innovations will cut two ways: they will make our online world more magnetic and attractive, and our offline one feel more tedious and boring by comparison. They will make it easier to forget that we are living organisms with built-in barometers that not only help us survive but thrive. That our bodies are a source of exploration, understanding, connection, and joy. That they deserve respect as the most sophisticated technology ever made. That unlike the online world, our bodies ping in more subtle, nuanced and easily missed ways. 

Our human future depends entirely on us being able to create a physical life that is way more magnetic than the online one.

“Boredom, rooted in a fundamental discomfort with the self, is one of the least tolerable mental states.”― Gabor Maté, physician and author specializing in treatment of addiction.

From the book― In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts: Close Encounters with Addiction

#108: The emotional dust of creation

We don’t create things all at once, fully formed. Whether it’s an organization, a community, a tiny human or ourselves, creation takes time and the build is always unexpected. That’s a big reason why we subconsciously hold back from creating anything new: it feels risky to invest emotion and effort and not even have the guarantee that this thing we want will actually happen, or happen the way we want it to.

If we make a plan before starting (which is always a good idea), it’ll orient us in the right direction and help take suitable steps, but it likely won’t reflect the nuanced terrain we’ll actually walk. That’s because neither the terrain nor our creation remains static. Both respond to our actions and the events in our larger environment. Similarly, we ourselves respond and change; what we thought last week or last month will shift a bit when we engage in the work. Finally, we never build anything alone. Ever. There are others right next to us co-creating and going through the same push and pull of change and creation. So we’re changing, our creation is changing, our co-creators are changing and the environment is changing. This happens simultaneously and repeatedly. This dynamic is called emergence, and it asks for emotional flexibility. 

The work of creating something new is less like driving a self-driving Tesla on a traffic-free highway, and more like walking a dusty backroad full of brambles alongside others. It’s never a cool and collected experience of just sitting back and arriving. We all get scratched, stumble, bump into each other and kick up dust as we walk.

To make matters harder, we regularly pass through invisible gates that change the scenery and the terrain. What we did before needs to be adjusted in unexpected ways. If we were too absorbed in the work of creating, we may not even realize that we passed a gate. That’s when the emotional dust peaks―we all scramble to make sense of the new terrain, run furiously into the brambles and each other, kick up more dust, and make it harder to see things clearly. 

Knowing this, what if:

  • In addition to drawing maps, we prepare for that dusty and brambly trail with unseen gates.
  • Instead of a heroic solo journey, we note others who walk besides us.
  • Our commitment isn’t to one specific outcome but to staying on the dusty path. We develop resilience, integrity, and might I add―joy, so none of us opt-out in favor of the cushy Tesla path.
  • We invest time in creating trust: holding a hand, mending a wound, or offering a sip of water on this twisty path.
  • Most importantly, we create the capacity to be ok with emotional dust as we blind each other with it.

“The mighty oak was once an acorn that stood its ground.”― English Proverb, Author Unknown 

It may not happen.
If it happens, it wont happen the way you imagined.
If it happens, it’ll be its own thing: emergent and separate from you, uncontrollable by anyone.
Bringing it to life will dent you and others in unseen places.

So, why do it?
Because you came with these fertile seeds.
And if you hold back, first the seeds will wither…then you.
― A little ditty, by Suparna

#105: Lucky, and we don’t even know it (India Diaries)

I was at SXSW* a few years ago and a corporate partner gave my team electric scooters to navigate the spread out events. Everyone hopped on and happily explored together, except me. The team bonding I had imagined never happened for me; while people rode, chatted, bonded and made plans, I walked and explored alone. No one I asked me why I didn’t join, and I didn’t feel comfortable saying that I didn’t know how to ride a bike.

It’s not just biking, I didn’t grow up running, swimming, rollerblading, playing any sports or musical instruments, with computers, or with access to endless books as one might find in a public library. The list goes on and it’s not meant to be a pity party. I’m simply pointing out that there are everyday things that we take for granted, and assume that everyone has them. If we note the disparity, we often attribute it to financial lack. Even if my family could afford bikes, running shoes and rollerblades (which we couldn’t), our city wasn’t safe for little girls running or biking around. Only the wealthy had access to swimming pools and computers, and there is still no concept of free public libraries in India. So the reasons for lack of access weren’t only financial, they were also social and structural.

The structures we grow up with massively influence our well-being throughout our life. Public infrastructure like parks, clean and uninterrupted water supply, public libraries, safe streets and friendly neighborhoods, and even clean air. And the valuable private infrastructure of our families: the financial resources for a well-rounded upbringing, the support of extended family or the guidance from parents’ professional networks.

My visit to India reminded me of my social and structural luck: progressive and loving parents who valued education; growing up in a close knit extended family with cousins, uncles, aunts and grandparents, which formed deep bonds of enduring love and care. My maternal aunt and uncle felt like a second set of parents and my cousins became siblings and mentors. Despite the early loss of my father and all the ensuing hardship, the unconditional love by not just one but many became foundational to my life. 

You may have grown up playing sports or musical instruments, or as part of a debate team. You may have been able to hone skills in a way all your peers did. You may have matured in the environment of a stable home and a good university, gaining access to internships and even more skills and confidence. Until one day, you found yourself next to a teammate who seemed capable and yet somehow unexplainably different.

The unique social, structural and cultural combo of our upbringing was likely mirrored by a big chunk of our peer group. They experienced what we experienced and our overlapping spaces became our ecological niches. It was easy to imagine that every niche was like ours. But everyone gets these inflexion points, where worlds meet and we get a view into the lives of others with markedly different histories. A vantage point that can help us see our ecological niche differently and hopefully value the things we take for granted.

Our niches and their associated luck can easily become invisible. It happens to me too. The longer I live in one niche, the more I forget how people live in other niches. I also forget all the ways in which I am uniquely blessed. While I was in India recently, not once did I feel alone, unloved, or that “it was all on me”.

I read somewhere that “if our ecological niche doesn’t change, we don’t change”. Most of us may not get the chance to change our ecological niche but a great way to understand our share of luck is to befriend people from other niches. Or step outside ours for a bit.

“It is every man’s obligation to put back into the world at least the equivalent of what he takes out of it.”― Albert Einstein, Physicist

*South by Southwest, abbreviated as SXSW, is an annual conference with parallel events for film, interactive media, and music. It take place in mid-March in Austin, Texas, United States. 

#102: Daily caregiving (India Diaries)

Continuing my India observations…

Another contrast between my life in the States and India is the daily collection of people that come in and out of my mother’s home. The cleaning lady, the cooking lady, the elderly vegetable hawker who calls her cellphone everyday like clockwork to pester her to buy something from him, even if a few potatoes. And his son, who runs up the five flights of steps to deliver them, who once requested I charge his phone for a few hours. This seeming entourage of help is common in India and not just a luxury for the wealthy. Our ad hoc infrastructure has developed over time in such a way that contemporary professional life is powered by this collective of daily care givers. People couldn’t work the long hours with the insane commute times if they didn’t have someone helping with cooking and cleaning. Most Indians I know also live in multigenerational families with more people, so there is more daily cooking and cleaning to do compared to the States.

I can slice this infrastructural and socio-economic dynamic in many ways but my point here is this: An offshoot of many different people coming in and out of one’s home is the human connection and engagement it creates for anyone who is at home, including the elderly.

In India, caregiving isn’t just reserved for when people face difficulties of old age. When the same people come into our homes daily over the years, bit by bit, we get to know about them and their families. We share food, tea, and old winter blankets. The stuff we’ve outgrown or don’t have room for doesn’t go to unseen people; the people who care for us get first dibs and we can see the impact of our generosity, which trains us to be more generous. There’s an oiling of the machinery with conversation, food, laughter, tears and some reprimand. People who rarely leave home end up staying mentally and physically engaged, even when alone.

The comparatively smaller daily care footprint of nuclear families in the west, supported by an array of gadgets, makes life practically and emotionally simpler. And it has the potential to distance us from interactions and slowly train us out of caring for more types of people; that is, the everyday interactions that help us become more humane.

“Humans interacting with humans in a human way”
― My friend Avishkar’s pithy summary of psychological safety, a concept developed by Prof. Amy Edmondson.

#99: Becoming a person through other people (India Diaries)

I was back home in India for a few months. As is to be expected, the longer visit allowed for more quality time with loved ones and the long absence that preceded it made me more aware of their impact.

People often brought up something I said or did as a child, a teenager, or even on a prior visit. Frequent interactions like these and it started to feel like my actions had turned into memory confetti, spread out in the minds of my loved ones. And when they reflected back, I received a piece that I could recombine with my pieces to get a glimpse of who I was at a certain point in my life. I was especially taken aback when I remembered little and they remembered much. I saw this old me, sometimes with surprise and at others with delight. Still similar in some aspects and changed in others.

For instance, I had little memory of writing letters to a dear cousin as a teenager and was touched that she saved them all. I’m still that person. I still write cards and save the meaningful notes written for me. Another cousin remembered a long-forgotten teenage crush in much detail; I’ve moved on from that one (Ha!). I also noted how much my moods and moments impacted others, whether it was humor, angst or anger.

Our daily attention is mostly tied to lining up the wobbly set of resources we’re given into a life path. As we blaze through that path, we embed memories in each other through interactions. The closer we are, the more those memories are cherished and when we circle back to these beloved humans, we see ourselves more fully. We add back long-forgotten details to our psyche, color to our life, and meaning to our path. If we never circle back to those we’ve walked the path with, we forget big and important pieces of ourselves.

The African philosophy of Ubuntu is summarized as “I am because you are” and I felt the full force of this wisdom surrounded by the many who shaped and continue to shape me.

“Since there is no place large enough
to contain so much happiness,
you shrug, you raise your hands, and it flows out of you
into everything you touch. You are not responsible.
You take no credit, as the night sky takes no credit
for the moon, but continues to hold it, and share it,
and in that way, be known.”
― “So Much Happiness” by Naomi Shihab Nye: poet, editor, songwriter, and novelist