I write about reconnecting with aliveness. These reflections explore what unfolds when we slow down, listen, and relate more honestly to our own experience.
Valuing friction
Letters on Growth · Vol. 6 Valuing friction.Why some of what gets in our way might be keeping us honest. Hello there, I've been working on my website these past few weeks, and like many of us nowadays, I'm using AI to support the process. In many ways it's been really helpful, particularly in not getting stuck with writing as much as I once did. However, I've also noticed that if I'm not careful, AI will endlessly try to please me. It goes along with whatever I'm thinking, generating more and more output. It celebrates my "intellect" and treats every idea as equally valid and important. That kind of agreement feels good initially, but it quickly begins to feel strange. Feedback is the friction that helps me shape my thoughts effectively. Without it, I feel ungrounded. For most of human history, writing came with a lot of friction. The labor of drafting and editing, the slow process of finding the right words to communicate complex meaning and ideas. This effort has always been part of how we figure out what we want to say. And the benefit of oppositional forces holds true at every other layer of being human: in order to understand the world and our place in it we actually need some pushback. We do something, and we require a response (positive or negative) in order to adjust ourselves accordingly. We only need to look at billionaires to get a sense of what it's like to operate in a friction-free world. Their immense wealth absolves them of almost any consequence. As Noah Hawley recently put it in The Atlantic:
Though we may not be billionaires, we're all surrounded by quieter versions of a similar offer of frictionless living: conveniences that promise to reduce stress or effort, and apps that smooth every interaction or need. But what begins to atrophy in the absence of effort and resistance? Years ago I read an article about orcas in captivity that stayed with me. Those working in marine parks argued that the orcas were living in stress-free environments: access to food, safety, no predators. Activists retorted that orcas are stressed by these bland environments. In their assessments, orca satisfaction is not found in the absence of stress, but in response to being called by life to utilize the fullness of their being.
We humans are not so different. On one hand, we rightfully desire access to ease and relaxation. Yet on a deeper level what we also want is the messiness of real contact: relationships with other people and the world, experiences that test our own capacities and limits, and actions with real-enough benefits and consequences to teach us something about ourselves. If we're lucky, we find this contact in the loving partner who taps their watch and says it's time to be done for the day, the concerned colleague who says "are you sure?", the dear friend who asks for our time and attention when it's inconvenient. Or in the call to share an idea that will take effort to express coherently. Navigating friction and stress is part of what makes life satisfying and meaningful. My invitation to myself based on all this has been to notice where I'm seeking to remove ever more friction, and then to wonder how that friction might be calling me into something I value — into relationship, into self-understanding, into the work of honest expression. Where in your life might friction be more useful than it initially feels?
Just easefully enough,
Words of wisdom "This is the challenge of being human: to remain present to the discomfort when fleeing would be easier. The courage to be human is to choose relationship over relief." — Jerry Colonna Latest reflections at iamreadyforgrowth.com. |
Ready for Growth
I write about reconnecting with aliveness. These reflections explore what unfolds when we slow down, listen, and relate more honestly to our own experience.
Letters on Growth · Vol. 7 On the intimacy of being known How relaunching my website turned out to be surprisingly vulnerable. Hello there, A few weeks ago I relaunched my website (did you see it yet?). Pulling it together took a lot of writing, coding, and iterating, and I'm proud of the finished product. Yet the harder part was something entirely hidden from view. What was less visible was the inner process of deciding how honest and vulnerable to be: how much of myself to share, and what...
Notes on Growth, Vol. 5 Hello there, A week ago I returned to New York from a trip home to see my parents and found that spring had arrived in my absence. The magnolias and pear trees along my street were dense with white blossoms. Inside my apartment, four of the five orchids I'd been tending through the winter had bloomed. I'm aware that spring is also a process happening within me. As the days warm, I find myself invited back into a sense of ease. I'm that guy smiling at other New Yorkers...
Bi-weekly reflections on aliveness Hello there, I’m just back from a trip to the West Coast (Palm Springs), which provided some much-needed sunny contrast to the snowy East Coast. While there, I was able to enjoy more time reading and resting. One of the books I started was called I’ve Got Time—a book on time management written by a Zen monk, Paul Loomans. In the book he describes principles for time management that allow us to “relax” into time, rather than attempting to control it, while...