On the discourse of being

Words often fail us and prove inadequate in the face of the most profound human experiences, whether tragic, ecstatic, or sublime. And yet it is in those moments, perhaps especially in those moments, that we feel the need to exist for lack of a better word, either to comfort or to share or to participate. But the medium best suited for doing so is the body, and it is the body that is, of necessity, abstracted from so much of our digital interaction with the world. With our bodies we may communicate without speaking. It is a communication by being and perhaps also doing, rather than by speaking.

Of course, embodied presence may seem, by comparison to its more disembodied counterparts, both less effectual and more fraught with risk. Embodied presence enjoys none of the amplification that technologies of communication afford. It cannot, after all, reach beyond the immediate place and time. And it is vulnerable presence. Embodied presence involves us with others, often in unmanageable, messy ways that are uncomfortable and awkward. But that awkwardness is also a measure of the power latent in embodied presence.

Embodied presence also liberates us from the need to prematurely reach for rational explanation and solutions — for an answer. If I can only speak, then the use of words will require me to search for sense. Silence can contemplate the mysterious, the absurd, and the act of grace, but words must search for reasons and fixes. This is, in its proper time, not an entirely futile endeavor; but its time is usually not in the aftermath. In the aftermath of the tragic, when silence and “being with” and touch may be the only appropriate responses, then only embodied presence will do. Its consolations are irreducible. This, I think, is part of the meaning of the Incarnation: the embrace of the fullness of our humanity.

Words and the media that convey them, of course, have their place, and they are necessary and sometimes good and beautiful besides. But words are often incomplete, insufficient. We cannot content ourselves with being the “disincarnate users” of electronic media that McLuhan worried about, nor can we allow the assumptions and priorities of disincarnate media to constrain our understanding of what it means to be human in this world.

via The Frailest Thing.

My business icon is my cleaning lady

She’s on her own, she cleans people’s homes, she’s incredibly nice. She brings flowers every time she cleans, and she’s just respectful and nice and awesome.

Why can’t more people be like that?

She’s been doing it some twenty-odd years, and that’s just an incredible success story.

To me that’s far more interesting than a tech company that’s hiring a bunch of people, just got their fourth round of financing for 12 million dollars, and they’re still losing money. That’s what everyone talks about as being exciting, but I think that’s an absolutely disgusting scenario when it comes to business.

via  Jason Fried, founder and CEO of 37signals

García-Noblejas: “La comunicación no debe ser histérica”

Promuevo que la comunicación no sea histérica, ni repentina, ni de instintos. Hoy tenemos asociado el sonido de la llegada de un mensaje a través de cualquiera de los nuevos dispositivos con la inmediatez y esto es una esclavitud. Los esclavos son los que hoy no pueden prescindir de la red, del ordenador, de las llamadas, etc. Los señores de sí mismos son capaces de desconectarse. Esto es lo que llamo lentitud Slow Communication, no estar acelerado.

Por ejemplo, si estas con una persona pensando en lo que va a pasar después, entonces no estás con la persona. La comunicación debe respetar el presente de las personas.

Tengo un día a la semana que no uso la red. Si quiero leer, anulo el correo, el teléfono y me desconecto. 24 horas a la semana sin estar en contacto con la red es muy saludable. Algunos sienten que no pueden estar desconectados y el efecto carencia es muy parecido al del fumador empedernido. Eso es lo malo y es de lo que conviene saber gobernar. Prefiero ser un protagonista de mi propia vida que ser un reaccionario de acuerdo a las motivaciones externas.

via U de los Andes.

Happiness is overrated

[It]  is a function of our expectations — or, as it has been said: “Happiness equals reality minus expectations.”

Given that neat formulation, there are two ways to attack the problem: boost our reality or lower our expectations.

Most of us choose the former. We’d rather stew in our misery than trim our expectations.

Lowering our sights smacks us as a cop out, un-American. Better a nation of morose overachievers, we reason, than a land of happy slackers. (via Lowered Expectations)

Parting words to graduating students

my advice to you is simple:

find out what you are meant to do and do it,

and find out who you really are, under all the junk that has been attached to you by those who would make you everybody else, and be that.

(…)

what you are meant to do and who you really are are not the same thing:

what you’re meant to do is learned, discovered,

but who you really are has always been there — it is a matter of unlearning who you have been told to be, or told you are, or should be,

until all that is left is the knowledge of who you are and always were: nobody but yourself.

via How to Save the World.

Our deepest fear

This topic, and the movie, came up in a conversation earlier this week.

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.

Your playing small does not serve the world.

There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you.

We are all meant to shine as children do.

It’s not just in some of us; it is in everyone.

And as we let our own lights shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.

As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

Taken from the movie Coach Carter, it is an edited version of a poem by Marianne Williamson.