We can’t control how we are born: our gender, our race, the country of our birth. However, we are highly influenced by societal and family influences as we grow up. Our creation myths are provided to us – this is your religion, this is your nationality, this is your sexuality, this is how we think about things because, well, it’s “always been that way.” Any supposed aberration from the established rules is considered a threat, which is why homophobia, xenophobia, racism, misogyny tend to flourish in closed environments. Different = bad. It’s probably a biological survival leftover from our ancestors, wherein conformity to the tribe and its needs superseded the needs of the individual. A nonconformist could, in fact, be a threat to the health of the group. Any kind of questioning of the status quo was dangerous. Rebels were dangerous.
Read MoreWe are all going to be spending a lot more time at home for the coming weeks, if not months. Besides adjusting to perhaps working from a shared office and having to balance spending time with our mates, spouses, children and pets while juggling the Zoom video calls, emails and Slack channels, it’s a good time to allow for contemplation: the ability to center for a moment, without distractions, both digital and analog, for a period of time. As I’ve mentioned in past essays, I find it helpful to use an app like Headspace or Waking Up to stop the monkey mind from constantly whirling in a manic fugue of thoughts that often just lead to anxiety, rather than constructive action.
Read MoreAs I write this essay I’m sitting outside, on a balcony, overseeing the Santa Monica mountains. There’s the wafting citronella scent of a burning candle that keeps the flies at bay; a light breeze; the whirl of hummingbirds; the buzz of the bees coming up from the koi pond and the snorting of my French Bulldog, Momo, at my feet. Yes, it’s bucolic, idyllic, and I’m grateful for not having to put up with the blare of car horns and the thumping of helicopter blades overhead (even though motorcyclists do love to rumble through the canyon at 7 am on Sundays) but most importantly I’m grateful for the lack of distraction. I can think. And the irony (or hypocrisy) that I’m writing this essay about disconnecting from screens on a MacBook Air isn’t lost on me but in this case, the interaction with the screen is active – I’m not passively intaking Instagram or Snapchat feeds.
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