Tuesday, 2:08 PM

So what were we saying?

Yeah:

[1] that what we give our attention to is what we worship,

[2] that no amount of optimization will redeem a life we didn't choose,

[3] that choosing something requires us to be awake, aware, able, and willing to choose (we still have to dig into some of those, but we'll get to them),

[4] that sleepwalking in Default Land keeps us from lives we would actually choose, and most disturbingly perhaps,

[5] that if we're essentially the same people we were three, five, ten years ago, then exactly who has been living our lives all this time?

Not us, that's who.

So let's pick up after our two main conclusions so far:

(1) Attention is sacred, and

(2) Sleepwalking is the default.

And here's the next one:

Most people's lives are being ghostwritten.

Think about it.

Whether you've been choosing or not, a life is unfolding. Your life is unfolding. It's being written somehow, with or without your engagement and participation.

Makes me think of that poem: How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. Except this version would be something more like: How are our lives being hijacked and ghostwritten? Let me count the ways. [1]

Habit. Culture. Comfort. Fear. Algorithms. Influencers. Advertising. Scripts you never examined. Beliefs you never held up to the light. Things you tolerate. Things you've accepted. Inertia. Not being disciplined with your time, spending, attention. Avoiding conflict. Avoiding friction. Social pressure. Social media. Passivity. Other people's priorities. Other people's expectations. Other people benefitting from your sameness. Hanging out with people who don't root for you. Hanging out with people who bring you down. Not learning who you are. Not learning what you like. Not learning your boundaries (where you end and someone else begins). There are a million more.

But let's not let ghostwriters bear all the blame. There are our own choices, too. Just a few:

• I'm too busy.
• I don't have time.
• I have obligations.
• I don't feel like it.
• I'm too old.
• I'm too young.
• I'm too broke.
• I'm too scared.
• I'm too lazy.
• I'm not motivated.
• I want to do this other thing that makes a lot of money.
• There's no opportunity here.
• There's no opportunity there.
• I can't right now.
• I can't at all.
• I can't even.

And even worse:

• I'll get to it later. Someday. Maybe.
• I can't decide.
• I don't want to decide.

But not deciding is deciding. You can't opt out. There is no neutral. There is no "stay in place." (Well, there is, but that's the decision then, stay in place.)

Default living is a decision.

Every day you don't choose, someone else (or something else) chooses for you. If you don't write something, something else will. Blank pages don't stay blank.

Every unexamined habit, every mindless scroll, every default yes, every inherited script is a chapter being written.

And then you live it and wonder why you're not satisfied.

You can change it, though, you know.

You can pick up the pen anytime.

The real question is, will you?

More to come.

Footnotes:

[1] The full poem, in case you're interested:

How Do I Love Thee? (Sonnet 43)

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

— Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Link where I found a copy here.