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Liminal Spaces
Jul. 1st, 2019 08:18 am
I'm starting July waiting for word on whether I've gotten the job at Coursera, between being crushed that I wasn't chosen and celebrating that my stint of joblessness was mercifully brief. It's really hard to sit with the tension between these two possibilities. As much as I tried not to obsess, I found myself constantly checking my mail Friday afternoon for anything I could get from the recruiter. I even snuck a peek while I was getting my teeth cleaned at the dentist. Ultimately, I'll just have to wait for word -- and move forward with the expectation that I still need to find work.
Thankfully, the unemployment benefits were approved. That's a bit of income that'll at least cover rent and expenses while I'm looking for work. There's also a state program that keeps you in the loop for job and training opportunities, which is awesome. Once I've made the rounds with the usual websites today, I'll sign up there and see what it's all about.
This week, I'd like to focus on slowing down and paying attention. I have the space to breathe for the first time in a long time, and I should take the opportunity for an "attention reset". This means sitting down on the meditation cushion for longer; taking the time to sit down with an "analog" book and reading without distraction; taking a long walk with no destination in mind, just the joy of the experience. I have the time to be bored. I can synthesize my experiences, step back to think about where I've been and where I'm going. I can assess and regroup. I hadn't really done that over the last ten days; mostly, I think I was still avoiding the reality that my old job is gone, that I had some fault in it, and that my life is fundamentally changed from here.
It's funny how deceptive our resistance to change can be. I thought I had already grieved the loss of my old job, but looking back over the posts I made last week I can still see the anger and fear there. That's not to say that I'm not angry or fearful now, but at least there's a bit more clarity with those emotions. Grief is not a straightforward process. Sometimes, it's a cycle; sometimes, it's modulating waves. We often don't know the form it's taken until we're far enough past it to see it clearly.
A couple of other things this weekend have shown me the value of being mindful about the limits of our perspective. Ryan showed me "The Winslow Boy", a film written and directed by David Mamet, based on a 40s play about the real-life trial of George Archer-Shee. Archer-Shee was a Royal Navy cadet who was expelled for stealing a five shilling postal order, and his family nearly ruined themselves protesting his innocence. The case became a tabloid sensation in the UK, to the point that political cartoons, pop songs, and all kinds of knick-knacks were thrown around supporting or ridiculing this boy. In the end, he was acquitted by jury because the elderly clerk who fingered him admitted she could have easily been mistaken.
What's striking to me about this is how easily a "small" mistake can blow up into this huge issue. The Archer-Shees were Roman Catholic, and the patriarch was involved in banking, so the misuse or theft of money was basically a cardinal sin. It was imperative to him that his son's name was cleared. But the system in place at the time put them in a really strange position: since George was a cadet, he couldn't go to civil court and since he wasn't technically enlisted he couldn't have a court-martial. There was no legal recourse except for extraordinary measures. George maintained his innocence, but accepted the verdict -- at least in the film. But his father just couldn't let it go. It was the principle of the thing, even though fighting it pushed his family to the brink of financial and social ruin.
I've thought a lot about a principle I'd be willing to fight that hard for, especially for something as materially small as five shillings, and I can't think of an awful lot. I'm nowhere near that confident in the expression of those values, and I just don't have the fortitude to stick through conflict to that point. At some point, I would have given up for the sake of my family's finances or standing. I would have assumed that there was some other way to uphold the virtue of the family name.
We also finished "The Truth" by Terry Pratchett, where the 'invention' of the printing press leads to the creation of Ankh-Morpork's first newspaper and the uncovering of a plot to discredit the city's Lord Patrician so that he's forced to step down. Like so many of Pratchett's Discworld books, the plot is a vector to raise questions about the press' responsibility to its readers, its readers reaction to the high-minded ideals of "the public interest", and the impossibility of actually getting down to "the truth" of any matter. The Truth as an objective concept is unknowable, simply because we as human beings have a limited perspective. We simply can't account for all of the factors that go into a situation. I mean, I know this is Philosophy 101, right? But it's such a fundamental concept it tends to get buried under a lot of other beliefs we build on top of it. It really is worth remembering how fallible we are, especially in times where moral certainty is the primary driver of our civil discourse. We don't know everything. We can't know everything. Nothing is certain. We're all just doing the best we can with the information and experience that's available.
It helps me to keep in mind that I'm ignorant in a lot of ways; it keeps me humble, open, and curious, but it also helps me to be more forgiving and compassionate towards people whose ignorance is clearly visible from my perspective. How would I want someone to inform me of my own ignorance? Shouldn't I carry the same attitude towards others? It's worth being gentle with others, if only to create the kind of world where I can be treated with the same gentle correction.
Today, I have a lot planned -- mostly around the bureaucracy of unemployment. We'll see how it goes. In the meantime, Happy Canada Day to my northern neighbors. :)
Thankfully, the unemployment benefits were approved. That's a bit of income that'll at least cover rent and expenses while I'm looking for work. There's also a state program that keeps you in the loop for job and training opportunities, which is awesome. Once I've made the rounds with the usual websites today, I'll sign up there and see what it's all about.
This week, I'd like to focus on slowing down and paying attention. I have the space to breathe for the first time in a long time, and I should take the opportunity for an "attention reset". This means sitting down on the meditation cushion for longer; taking the time to sit down with an "analog" book and reading without distraction; taking a long walk with no destination in mind, just the joy of the experience. I have the time to be bored. I can synthesize my experiences, step back to think about where I've been and where I'm going. I can assess and regroup. I hadn't really done that over the last ten days; mostly, I think I was still avoiding the reality that my old job is gone, that I had some fault in it, and that my life is fundamentally changed from here.
It's funny how deceptive our resistance to change can be. I thought I had already grieved the loss of my old job, but looking back over the posts I made last week I can still see the anger and fear there. That's not to say that I'm not angry or fearful now, but at least there's a bit more clarity with those emotions. Grief is not a straightforward process. Sometimes, it's a cycle; sometimes, it's modulating waves. We often don't know the form it's taken until we're far enough past it to see it clearly.
A couple of other things this weekend have shown me the value of being mindful about the limits of our perspective. Ryan showed me "The Winslow Boy", a film written and directed by David Mamet, based on a 40s play about the real-life trial of George Archer-Shee. Archer-Shee was a Royal Navy cadet who was expelled for stealing a five shilling postal order, and his family nearly ruined themselves protesting his innocence. The case became a tabloid sensation in the UK, to the point that political cartoons, pop songs, and all kinds of knick-knacks were thrown around supporting or ridiculing this boy. In the end, he was acquitted by jury because the elderly clerk who fingered him admitted she could have easily been mistaken.
What's striking to me about this is how easily a "small" mistake can blow up into this huge issue. The Archer-Shees were Roman Catholic, and the patriarch was involved in banking, so the misuse or theft of money was basically a cardinal sin. It was imperative to him that his son's name was cleared. But the system in place at the time put them in a really strange position: since George was a cadet, he couldn't go to civil court and since he wasn't technically enlisted he couldn't have a court-martial. There was no legal recourse except for extraordinary measures. George maintained his innocence, but accepted the verdict -- at least in the film. But his father just couldn't let it go. It was the principle of the thing, even though fighting it pushed his family to the brink of financial and social ruin.
I've thought a lot about a principle I'd be willing to fight that hard for, especially for something as materially small as five shillings, and I can't think of an awful lot. I'm nowhere near that confident in the expression of those values, and I just don't have the fortitude to stick through conflict to that point. At some point, I would have given up for the sake of my family's finances or standing. I would have assumed that there was some other way to uphold the virtue of the family name.
We also finished "The Truth" by Terry Pratchett, where the 'invention' of the printing press leads to the creation of Ankh-Morpork's first newspaper and the uncovering of a plot to discredit the city's Lord Patrician so that he's forced to step down. Like so many of Pratchett's Discworld books, the plot is a vector to raise questions about the press' responsibility to its readers, its readers reaction to the high-minded ideals of "the public interest", and the impossibility of actually getting down to "the truth" of any matter. The Truth as an objective concept is unknowable, simply because we as human beings have a limited perspective. We simply can't account for all of the factors that go into a situation. I mean, I know this is Philosophy 101, right? But it's such a fundamental concept it tends to get buried under a lot of other beliefs we build on top of it. It really is worth remembering how fallible we are, especially in times where moral certainty is the primary driver of our civil discourse. We don't know everything. We can't know everything. Nothing is certain. We're all just doing the best we can with the information and experience that's available.
It helps me to keep in mind that I'm ignorant in a lot of ways; it keeps me humble, open, and curious, but it also helps me to be more forgiving and compassionate towards people whose ignorance is clearly visible from my perspective. How would I want someone to inform me of my own ignorance? Shouldn't I carry the same attitude towards others? It's worth being gentle with others, if only to create the kind of world where I can be treated with the same gentle correction.
Today, I have a lot planned -- mostly around the bureaucracy of unemployment. We'll see how it goes. In the meantime, Happy Canada Day to my northern neighbors. :)
