Technology and I seem to be experiencing some minor relationship issues... talk amongst yourselves

Image courtesy of Stock.xchange - http://www.sxc.hu/photo/815492



So Tech and I seem to be having some kind of falling out at the moment.

In the past week:

• my heart rate monitor has mysteriously stopped working - not gone blank as would indicate a battery having gone flat, but just spontaneously jammed - and I can't find a reset button on it anywhere
  
  
• my iPod and my computer spontaneously stopped talking to each other - right in the middle of a sync, Vista suddenly managed to lose the drivers and informed me it no longer recognised that weird, totally unfamiliar USB device I'd plugged into it (incidentally, this problem, at least, was easily fixed by reinstalling iTunes)
  
  
• My antivirus, has suddenly started recognising a whole host of the games files I sometimes play (and have been playing for at least a year) as some variant of Win32 Trojans - despite them all having been absolutely fine up till now.
  
  

• Plus all manner of weird and interesting stuff happening with the tech I use at work, although that happens to everyone, so is more likely to be issues with our various systems, rather than a personal vendetta on behalf of the tech gremlins against me and all my issue to the n^th generation.
  

Truth be told, I have a sneaking suspicion that along with all the other changes in my life, this may the Universe clocking me upside the head with a giant clue-by-four, behind which is the sacred and spiritual message, "Yo' honey, y'got too much crap y'don't need in your life. Stop thinking of this dren as necessary to your wellbeing, and start focussing on the stuff that actually matters a damn, why don't you?"

So while I *am* trying to do something about fixing each thing (except the heart rate monitor - for that I'll need to dig out the instruction manual... wherever that's got to now), I'm also being mindful about the whole experience, and noticing that I don't *need* whatever-the-particular-piece-of-tech-might-be in my life to be happy. Yeah, it's fun. And it gives me some manner of pleasure to have and to use, or I wouldn't have or use it in the first place. But it categorically *isn't* what you'd call a necessity. So there's no point in getting all frustrated and annoyed when it stops working. Life is what it is - what happens, happens. And life's about far, far more than little pieces of tech.

Plus, some things are actually better without. I went to Spin class this morning, and it was a completely different experience for me to base my intensity directly on how my body was feeling and reacting to the pace and resistance, instead of relying on my heart rate monitor to interpret the level at which I should be working for me. I actually had a really good class today, and my body is loving me for it (even if I suspect my quads and adductors are going to be complaining loudly every time I stand up, sit down, or walk up and down stairs for a couple of days)

And if a sense of perspective is the only good thing I take away from this little episode of tech-fairy victimisation, I think it's still well worth it. Yep, yep, getting back to what matters is all good... now where's that damn heart rate monitor manual...

Umbrellas as a Metaphor

Image courtesy of Stock Exchange - http://www.sxc.hu/photo/29053


I've never been much of a fan of umbrellas.

My reasons are twofold. The first is practical: I like, to the greatest extent possible, to have my hands free when I walk. I dislike holding a clutch purse when I go out in the evenings for the same reason - preferring a handbag with a long enough strap that I can carry it cross-body.

The second is more... emotional. Umbrellas create a barrier - something to hide behind - something to distance me from the direct experience of rain on my skin. That is, after all, what they're designed for. And for the most part, I actually *like* feeling the rain and wind in my face. It's a trigger for me - a sensation - a set of stimuli that let me know in no uncertain terms that I'm here, I'm in the present moment, and I'm connected to the world outside myself. Granted, I don't particularly like getting soaked to the bone till I'm sodden - although it's generally not a huge deal if I'm on my way home anyway - I just shrug and figure on a hot cuppa and a dry change of clothes once I get there. And if it's raining *that* hard on the way out, then I'll generally try not to go out in it - or if I absolutely have to, I'll take the car.

Tonight I needed to walk home in the rain. Yes, I could have done what I did last week and wait for Gryphon to finish work and ask him to pick me up en route home... but I don't like to take advantage of that too often (and besides, when he worked late last week and didn't get to my workplace until after I had to leave because the alarms had been switched on, I discovered that while I feel perfectly safe walking home alone in the dark, I don't feel safe standing alone doing nothing outside my workplace - interesting realisation, that). And it wasn't raining that that hard.

I should mention that I've been understandably wary about walking in the rain at all, however much I may like the feel of it on my face, over the past seven months. Makes sense, after all - if you have a cough o' doom you can't shake, the last thing you want to do is allow yourself to get drenched on a cold evening. But tonight I figured that it wasn't raining hard enough to soak me, and I knew I had an umbrella with me, so I figured, "Screw it - let's just do it."

And what do you know... Thus commenced a fun walk home, filled with connections and experiences of all kinds that the umbrella didn't actually create a barrier to.

First, there was the experience of being protected. No, seriously. Don't laugh at me here. You know that scene early on in Heroes s1 where Sandra Bennett asks her daughter what happened at school, and Claire replies "I walked through fire and I didn't get burned"? Well, that's kind of what was going through my mind: "Hey wow, cool, I'm walking through rain and I'm not getting wet".

Yeah, yeah, I know: well, *duh*, that's what umbrellas do, right? But step back from that mundane "yeah, so what?" response a moment. Remember Einstein's comment (I think it was Einstein) that there are two ways to live: either as though nothing is a miracle, or as though everything is. And take a look at an umbrella with fresh eyes. It's an incredibly simple gadget that basically amounts to a portable rain-shield. That's kind of cool. We humans can be clever things at times.

And when I was part of the way home, the rain lightened enough that I was confident my coat would just shed it, so I could put the umbrella down and really feel the freshness of the wind and the smaller, lighter raindrops in my face. And there were puddles I decided to deliberately seek out (OK, so the first one I accidentally stepped in, but then it occurred to me that my soles were waterproof, and it could be a fun way to get the mud off the bottom of my sneakers - and after that I actively splashed in them just because I could). And there was the connection to the clouds rushing by above me; and the odd star that peeked out from between them.

Then, maybe ten minutes later, when the rain had all but stopped, I was walking along and there was a guy walking the other way, umbrella still clutched firmly over him. And I seriously had to stop myself giving him a weird look and saying something like "Hey, the rain's stopped - you can put it away now!"

And right about then, it occurred to me that there's a metaphor in the way I respond to umbrellas that extends out to the way I respond to experience generally. I don't *like* putting up barriers between me and direct experience - I don't *like* trying to hide from it. Sometimes, though, a given experience will be overwhelming, or just needlessly unpleasant (or have unnecessarily nasty consequences). And in any of those cases, there's no virtue in me bounding out to meet it headfirst if I don't have to - nor is there any shame in using a shield to protect myself from the negative aspects of it if I do need to go through it, should there be an incredibly handy one just within reach. Yet other times, I think an experience will end up being worse that it is, or I forget that mixed in with the unpleasantness will be a whole load of pleasantness. In those cases, if I insist on shielding myself from the experience, or all-out avoiding it, I miss out on a whole load of good stuff.

I'm trying to think what I can-and-do use as an umbrella against experience. Analysis, definitely - thinking things through ad nauseum is a big one. Friends, certainly - spending time with other people who help me get away from "bad" feelings. Fiction, sure. None of those things are bad in themselves - and in the right circumstances, they're lifesavers; but like umbrellas, if I'm using them as shields against everything I think will be unpleasant, they can stop me feeling the actual rain and the wind on my face.

So yeah. Umbrellas - metaphorical ones, and the real things both. Tell me you've made it right through this post and that you don't think they're at least a little bit cool. Seriously. Cool, yes?

Everyday mindfulness and letting go of sunk costs

Image courtesy of SXU - http://www.sxc.hu/photo/812896

So I've just been reading a post over at Litemind on sunk cost bias and I've realised that the example Luciano, the article's author, gives (buying a ticket to something and then not feeling like going on the day but going anyway because you've 'already sunk the cost') is something I do all the time.

Actually, no - it's something I do about half the time. The other half the time, I'll decide not to go because I don't feel like it... and then spend the entire time feeling guilty and annoyed with myself for being so damn wasteful (or if it's something I didn't pay for, but I was going to do it with friends, annoyed with myself for letting them down; or just for not following through on something I'd decided to do). Which really makes no more sense than going and being miserable would have done.

I *definitely* do fall victim to sunk cost bias around food (I've bought it, so I should eat it; or I've put it on my plate so I should eat it), around clutter (it's meant something to me in the past, so I should keep it), and often around books (either "I've bought it, so I'm damn well going to finish it even if I'm not enjoying it" - or "I've borrowed it and started it, so I'm going to feel guilty if I hand it back unread")

I love the author's comment about zero-based thinking in the article too. This is something I recognise from my Forum days as "coming from a point of nothing", but phrased in far less jargony, less Landmark-ese terminology. This technique is something I really, really need to practice on a regular basis - I can do it when I'm already calm and something reminds me it's a choice I have, but I find it much harder when I'm caught up in the grip of a drama. Which leads, of course, to the question of how exactly I can remember to actually use the technique next time I need it. That's always my challenge - not in knowing what to do, but in remembering to choose to do it in the heat of the moment.

I guess the only way to do that is... well... to do it. First being mindful and recognising when I'm in a 'sunk cost' situation. Then acknowledging that every moment starts over and letting go. Or, in other words, practise it when I remember, avoid beating myself and just letting it go when I don't. And of course, each time I practise, it'll get that little bit easier to remember to use it next time.

It's a thought anyway...

Thoughtful blessings


Starfire