Thursday, December 31, 2020

revision 2020

I've spent the past few days thinking back on 2020 and reflecting on the various things I've learned during this difficult year. It's been a long process and I'm still working out all the lessons but when I finally have my ideas sorted out I can assure you, dear reader, that you'll be the first to hear about them.

The one thing I'm ready to bring up now - which might be a better fit in the category of "things I confirmed", but let's not waste time with such distinctions - comes out of a conversation from around a week ago at a virtual happy hour with some colleagues. The topic came up (well, it was brought up) that I had a flip phone, and in the process of explaining myself I realized that the reason I have it is because I fear the way constant distraction might erode some of my best qualities - being fully present in the moment, remaining endlessly patient, and focusing for long periods. It brought me back to my high school days when I occasionally felt pressured to smoke, but I never gave in because I feared the effects on my lungs, which were my best assets as a student-athlete (I have smoked a few cigars, which appeal to me because you don't inhale the smoke, but it seems unlikely I'll ever smoke).

The analogy extends one more level, however, which is that just as it was challenging to explain my fear to a smoker - what do you mean, man, I can breathe just fine - it's equally difficult to make my point about distraction in 2020. It might just be the case now that as we approach almost a full decade of ubiquitous smart phone use in America (and a longer period of time for widespread internet access) the standard for being distracted by the digital world has fallen too far for me to have any meaningful concerns about the situation, at least relatively speaking. The challenging aspect is that I want to get the most out of myself - my time, my energy, and my thinking - which means being relatively less distracted compared to someone else has little value to me. I had a preliminary look at my 2020 reading list last week and I know my year-end tally will fall far short of years past, perhaps by as many as twenty books. Most people will look at that list and scoff, pointing out that I still read more than 99% of other people, but I'm not concerned about other people when I read books, and I have no interest in how well other people focus when it's time for me to pay attention.

The problem at the moment is that in 2020 my focus has slipped to the point where it's having an effect on my mood and, in some cases, on my physical health. The circumstances of the year have undoubtedly played a huge role (and I'm forgiving of myself, partly because keeping up with the news has been more relevant than ever in 2020). However, I think bringing 24/7 internet access back into my life was the primary contributor to the issue, and if I need to make one revision to my current daily routine it would involve committing to a more deliberate use of my computer. There's nothing new about this knowledge - I unplugged myself back in 2014 because it was the right thing to do - but as 2021 looms on the horizon I've accepted something we'll all need to admit, sooner or later, to ensure we can make more out of the coming year than we did the last; there's no returning to the good old days. The theme of 2021, or my best advice for it, is in some ways the same as it is in any year - we must incorporate the new while preserving the best of the old; it's the only way to get the most out of the year.