Saturday, November 21, 2020

Whoa. That Ain’t Cool (Learning to Detach From Facebook) December 2020

There are a handful of podcasts I listen to regularly. I am subscribed to Wild At Heart, the Jocko podcast, Hold These Truths and the Minimalists, among others.


It was those keep-it-simple Minimalists who had a light hearted moment prior to the election where Josh and a guest decided they’d see how long they could go without news that would tell them who won the Presidency. No tv, no social media, nothing for as long as they could 😜. They were making the point that the rush and crush of news, social media and the like needed to be pushed back. (Little did they know how honest it would be to definitively not know who won, even a weeks later!)

At about the same time, the Netflix docu-drama “The Social Dilemma” was being highly touted. My wife, Sarah, told me to watch it. 
I did. 
It was unnerving. 
I won’t spoil all the details if you haven’t watched it yet, but I will give a key thought and line from those interviews: “If you’re not paying for the service, YOU are what’s being sold.”

Whoa.
That ain’t cool. 

The film went on to detail how each person, based on their profile and preferences, gets different “news”. Their worldview is being nefariously pushed, prodded, shaped and altered by a hidden hand and an unseen agenda. 

Whoa. 
That ain’t cool. 

I’ve had the seemingly lighter experience of being on my laptop and ads scroll up of things me or the wife would be interested in. Maybe you have, too. It was a bit of a thrill at first as each ad caught my eye; it then turned to dread as I realized someone (or something like an A. I. algorithm) was watching me, stalking me, keeping tabs on all my clicks.

Whoa.
That ain’t cool.

Every cop drama on the tube has that scene where the detectives will back track the perps route by calling up the gps data from the stolen rental car. They always get the bad guy due to the savvy work of the show’s tech geek. Brains over brawn, right?
Well, yes, I guess anyone could track me the same way, as I do have a Texas toll tag, after all. And then there was the threat (or maybe attempt-we don’t fully know, do we?!) by the Kentucky Governor during the spring covid lockdown of 2020 to track residents leaving or returning to his state by warrant-less cell phone tracking. (This ACLU article should make us all pause on that thought.)


Whoa.
That ain’t cool.

The Social Dilemma played out its hour-and-a-half of insight and its scare-the-be-gessus-outta-ya data, and I was suddenly more aware. Again, my laptop ads, the cop dramas, cell tracking Governors and even general intuition have always told me to beware, to be careful, but I hadn’t yet acted. 

After the documentary, I did.

Step one for me: sign out of and delete the social media apps I rarely use, in my case, Twitter and Instagram. Facebook and YouTube have a purpose in my life and family, but they will now be controlled differently. And, by the way, the whole “turn off your notifications” as THE way to control the socials just wasn’t gonna work with me, so...

Step two: I signed out of Facebook and moved the app to the back of my phone. The plan at this point is I will sign in when I feel like I can and should look at it for a bit, then I’ll immediately sign back out.

“Sounds like a solid plan, Joal.”

But wait, there’s more unexpected creepiness to share.

Not but about 3 days after I signed out, I got an email telling me that Sarah, my wife, had posted something on Facebook I should see. I asked her about it and she had no clue what it was referring to. The email was simply baiting me to sign back in.

                          Then 2 days later I received another email
telling me a friend’s wife, Angie, had posted something I had to check out. And over and again these emails came, highlighting posts from my mom, my buddy Kelvin, a missionary friend Beverly, a work colleague Marci and such. I ignored them all, but realizing the pattern, I thought, I should screenshot this so others could see what I was talking about. 

Then the algorithm trio (watch the documentary and you’ll get the reference) amped it up another notch by TEXTING me with my wife and mom and friends Jason and Doug’s names in various text messages.

Whoa.
That ain’t cool.

Needless to say, The Social Dilemma is apparently being proven true in many, many respects. 

A last side note about social media and their delivery of the news, as it were: I’ve ignored the socials for weeks now, it's been nearly 2 months since I last looked at FB. I’ve also skipped newsy podcasts, just deleting them and never listening. I’ve scanned a smidgen of news related emails, but just nowhere near the quantity I would read daily in the past. The funny thing is, life goes on just fine/

The Presidential race worked itself out without me: legal challenges, recounts, threats and recriminations galore. 
I drank my good coffee this morning.
Work continues, school continues, family continues.
The world is still spinning. 
All without “being social-media-connected”.

I get the irony that the way most of you will see this essay is by me posting it on Facebook. Take a minute to snicker, sneer, laugh and guffaw. It’s okay. In a real sense, it’s the world we now find ourselves in. But we can and must make an adjustment on the consumption for our own good and the common good.

Watch the movie, test the theory and see if life isn’t a little bit easier when you unplug from the Matrix.

Peace, my friends.


A Rainy Day At the Beach November 2020

A Rainy Day At the Beach (is better than a sunny day anywhere else, right?!)

The weather app let us know that rain was a distinct possibility for many of the days we’d be here. As it turned out, a tropical storm was brewing; Florida would certainly feel it, while SC would get the outer edges and bands.
And unlike the smaltzy, local news weatherman’s predictions, the app was spot on. 
It’s been pouring buckets at the beach. 

It’s glorious.

Rain does something for me; it’s another God-given, slowing-life-down mechanism and, when combined with beach dwelling, it’s soul care at its finest. 
Unlike oppressive heat and even the heaviest of snows, rain showers, short of hurricanes, are mostly short lived. Rain, specifically at the beach in the Autumn, is measured in minutes of burst, even when overcast for hours. And on the subject of overcastness...though the sun rose this morning and daylight arrived, the continual subdued greyness of the day is actually calming and comforting.

There’s a stillness at the beach that only the rain can enforce. The little ones scurry inside while mom and dad lug in all the beach gear. The teenagers who were riding bicycles on the high side of the firm-sanded beach suddenly realize they’re pedaling through quicksand and make a U-ey for the hotel. And surfer dude, while perfectly willing to surf in the rain, can’t surf in the darkness, so he paddles in and calls it a day, brah, as the afternoon fades into evening and the downpour continues. Then all take a moment to watch the majesty of water fall from the sky to meet the other water as it crashes on the shore.


Some might think a rainy day (or days) at the beach feel like a waste. 
Me?
It’s exactly the prescription for much of what ails my soul.


Respite At The Beach November 2020



res·pite
/ˈrespət,rēˈspīt/
noun: a short period of rest or relief from something difficult or unpleasant.

Stopping.
No To-Do List.
A blank calendar.
Ignoring calls, emails and texts.
No one banging around in the house or garage.
Stopping.
Just stopping.
That is the real joy of a beach break with my wife. 

We’ve been blessed to make this a nearly annual habit every Fall for a decade. As I type this I hear and see wave after wave resolving less than a quarter mile away from the rented condo’s porch. 
The waves don’t stop. 
Sarah and I do.

Friends are often surprised that we don’t take the boys with us on vacation. Daily life with our children is the main reason we come as a duo, instead of a posse. This duo needs a break. We need to stop once in a while. For anyone who is a caregiver to a family member, whether this has occurred to you yet or not, you need respite. When it’s ALWAYS on you to take care of and for someone else, 
you can knuckle down, 
you can power up, 
you can handle it for a season; 
but you can’t do it indefinitely. 

I’ve known friends and family to have elderly or infirmed parents needing care. I have a friend or two who’s cared for a seriously sick spouse until their vows were fulfilled in death-do-us-part. Then there’s the special needs parenting community, a place that’s usually one of the longest, permanent experiences in the realm of caregiving. And here is where I need to give special recognition to my wife, Sarah, as THE Momma who handles SO much in this realm for our tribe.

Sarah and I have two boys, the oldest, having special needs, is Julian. He’s adult aged, but will forever not be an adult. His younger brother is finishing high school and we’re looking toward the “what’s next” in his life: work, college, etc. But for Julian, there’s a lot of “it’ll always be this way” in the daily grind; so respite, clocking out, taking a break from caring for him is a physical, mental and spiritual health necessity for Sarah and me. Some parents who do not face this kind of parenting challenge are stupifide that a mom or dad wouldn’t want to always be WITH their kids. Many in the special needs parenting community do understand and most have a specific guilt-to-understanding journey that hopefully, then thankfully, ends up recognizing respite.

res·pite
/ˈrespət,rēˈspīt/
noun: a short period of rest or relief from something difficult or unpleasant.

No one mentioned this concept to us years ago. We were not taught us about this. 
I can’t remember reading an article or book or hearing a podcast on the topic (especially since podcasts didn’t exist 20+ years ago as we were first wading into these waters).

(Actually we didn’t wade; we were deluged. Not drowned, just relentlessly pushed down, soaked through and exhausted.)

(Yes, that’s a more accurate parenthetical.)

I earned a company sponsored vacation about 15 years ago, a cruise. We got the then little boys to Grandma and Popa’s house and we sailed for 4 or 5 days. And we experienced respite for the first time. At that point, Julian’s challenges were present, though not fully diagnosed or understood. A lot of clarity has come into the world since then in the form of better mental healthcare, behavioral healthcare, medicines and even alternative therapies. But at that point, we just knew he had 24/7 struggles and we were always worn out.

Back to the cruise...it didn’t fully dawn on us what was happening then, but as time went on, we realized, we just needed a few days or a week here and there when WE don’t have to stay on adrenalized high alert. If someone else could look after Julian, we could actually sleep deeply, we could breathe deeply instead of the constant feeling of holding our breath fearing what might present next.

So now, blessed by some family move decisions, blessed by a good work situation and blessed by an ever widening community of people who “get-it”, Sarah and I regularly find ways for short weekend-type of respites and longer, planned vacation kind of respites. Some would consider the trouble and expense of these trips and getaways to be too much; to us they’re a lifeline of sanity worth any sacrifice to achieve.

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