The Throughlines

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, Steve’s Tumblr, and Pillowfort.  Find out more at my newsletter, and all my social media at my linktr.ee)

Last week I discussed how I took a long walk where I reflected on my life and choices I realized that, as I drifted back over the years, my choices led to more and more “alien” selves the further back I got in time. At some point the you of the past is unknown territory and you can’t learn anything or relate to them.

Now I’d like to discuss an insight from the same exercise that is not about not who I am, but instead very much who I am.

To recap, at one point in my life I took a walk for over an hour, viewing points of “divergence” in my life, asking where choices may have led down different paths. Sometimes I realized that choices would take me so far away that I’d be a complete different person. However throughout this exercise I saw something else, I saw what I call the “Throughlines,” common, consistent parts of my life.

Throughout the many mes there were consistent patterns in my life, weaving not just the life I had now, but most of the possible ones I could see. There was me now, the mes’ I could have been, and behind that were certain, nearly omnipresent elements. I vaguely call them “Throughlines” because they are consistent over time.

I have always been a writer, and rarely go longer than a year or two without some writing project. I never became the fiction writer I once half-heartedly comprehended as a teen, but I am a writer. My past “maybe selves” included technical writing, grant writing, and science writing. Writing is a Throughline, a deeper me.

I’m always an organizer, always having a plan, always having a project. I ran RPG groups and zines, planned software, and more – it’s no wonder I became a Project Manager. Whatever choices I made in my life, I know I’d have been the guy with a scheme. Planning is a Throughline, a deeper me.

I bring people together, it’s the organizer in me. I’m the guy behind the movie night and the writing club, the gaming group. I love to network people so they can come together, and it’s visible in my past from where I was nearly an administrator for an anthropology department, all the way to team building now. Networking is a Throughline, a deeper me.

There’s other Throughlines of course, from my love of theology to the fact I always return to doing art (even when I’m not good at it). You get the idea, somewhere among all the mes I could have been, probably even the ones so strange I couldn’t imagine them, there were these Throughlines. There’s a me under all the me’s.

In fact, I could see times where I could have ignored my Throughlines, tried to be someone I’m not. I can also see how I would have been miserable. For instance, for those who know me, try to imagine me as a humorous corporate IT ladder-climber – had I gone that direction I’d have hit midlife crises two decades early.

As I noted last time, I invite you to try this exercise. Give yourself at least an hour to walk somewhere pleasant and work backwards through your life, asking who you’d have been with different choices. It’s not just a way to ask about different yous, you might just find out more of who you are, even if you’d have been someone different.

There’s a you behind the yous. Go on, get to know them.

Steven Savage

The Divergence of Self

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, Steve’s Tumblr, and Pillowfort.  Find out more at my newsletter, and all my social media at my linktr.ee)

My friend Serdar was writing about the toxicity of nostalgia, choices, and the need to see what is in front of our nose. It’s easy to ask what could have been, to want to go back. It’s an urge I entirely understand, and one I think all humans has – as he notes, that’s just part of the planning section of our brain that’s taken us so far on Earth.

It will shock no one that the last few years I’ve wondered about what could have been – and still do. In fact, I probably do it too much, though perhaps that’s part of the human condition. Maybe that survival/planning part of our brain works best with a little unease, even moreso for a Project Manager like me. But I’d like to share an exercise I did once that puts some perspective on this desire to go back.

Once, years ago, while taking a walk, I thought about my desires to go back or start over, and turned it into an exercise – one that lengthened the walk to about an hour. I thought about the major choices in my life and asked “what if” about them and what would have happened. This was not an “if I knew then what I know now” exercise, such things are different and perhaps a little idealistic about our habits. This was “what if back then the me back them made a difference choice.”

Looking back a few years, I could easily see my decisions and likely outcomes. Many a decision in life is a knifes-edge change that could go one way or another, and the memories are fresh and merciless enough to evaluate with some level of accuracy. For instance, my current (and likely until-retirement) career in academia and medicine could have started years earlier but for some petty choices – a good reminder of my own flaws. The gap between “me” now and “me” a few years ago wasn’t so large I couldn’t relate.

As my mind traveled further back the results became colder, more distant, because the person then was not who I was now. What if I had started my consulting career earlier? What if I had not tried working at startups? What if I had moved to Seattle not California? As I rolled back the years in my head, the me of the past, even as he made different choices, became increasingly alien to the person I am now.

At some point in my replay, decades in my past when my IT career started, the me in the past diverged so much I didn’t know him. I could see the choices and possibilities in the past, but they led so far off the map in the present. At some point during this rewind I just stopped being anyone I could recognize or even guess.

Now this exercise was quite useful on many levels – perhaps I’ll write about it more in time. But also at some point you realize reliving the past and asking “what if” just doesn’t serve you. You’re different people than you were and are and could be, and at some point you have to return to what’s in front of your nose. If you’re mindful, such exercises on the past put you more in the present as you realize how you got here.

You can’t go back to who you were. Who you could have been is someone else, someone you wouldn’t recognize. But you can learn to a point about who you were to be better at who you are now.

I won’t lie – in these unsettled times the “if I could back and do it over knowing what I know now” is tempting. If such a magical opportunity arose, I’d like to think the current me is grounded enough in the present to make the right decision.

But for the people I was? I can’t speak for them. They’re not me. In some cases, they’re not anyone I even recognize.

Steven Savage

Nothing Means Anything Anymore

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, Steve’s Tumblr, and Pillowfort.  Find out more at my newsletter, and all my social media at my linktr.ee)

There’s a peculiar dissatisfaction in First World modern life. A racing, seeking need is prowling around, so many of us are trying to get something. Whatever we churn out in technologies and media doesn’t quite seem to be enough. Whatever new social media or communities or movies that pop up, people still seem disconnected.

I get that strange, unsettled, need – and that feeling things just “aren’t like they should be.” Even when you remove toxic nostalgia and the human condition, something seems wrong. Lately, contemplating everything from music to politics, a phrase bubbled up in my mind – “Nothing Means Anything Anymore.”

So much doesn’t seem to exist for itself or because it’s just good as it is or even it’s cool or fun. I think that’s part of the dissatisfaction.

The latest new social media product is just a mixture of contrarianism, MLM, and fad so someone makes money. The latest big media sensation is part of a series being milked for money and flattened to the most marketable format. Every book cover looks alike and sells the same stories that went before it – even for indie authors.

How much of our culture is just marketing anymore? Nothing exists for itself, everything is how to get more money into a bank account, so much is “number go up.” How many times have you reviewed a film or a book for friends and caught yourself sounding like a professional reviewer or marketer? We’re so used to nothing being what it its, but being some kind of product rollout or initiative or whatever we start to sound like that.

Or maybe there’s the meaninglessness in politics and the seeking of political power. Carefully-tested bullshit is spewed making claims everyone knows are lies, but people don’t want to admit it so their side “wins.” Pundits spit out catchphrases and newspaper people are just asking questions since they don’t want to do real work. Even the conspiracy theories are recycled and the conspiracy theorists seem to be trying not to meet each other’s gaze as they know they’re full of crap.

Such multi-level meaninglessness even infects supposedly sane politics. Political discussions among friends and enemies sound like any argument held by pundits as we’re all trying to be pundits instead of themselves. Local politics can be amplified by some online influence-seeker who posts about your local town and next thing you know your city council is getting screamed at by people in other states or even countries. Number goes up, votes go up, clicks goes up, but it’s all worse somehow.

We’ve somehow managed to build a complex, high-tech First World where we know a lot of it is bullshit.

Yet when I do things like read punk mags (hey, I’m not as dull as I seem) or go to local zine fests I see meaning. There’s some meaning in these handcrafted, not-market-tested, weird, personal things. There’s satisfaction to be had out there, from weird streaming services to someone’s photocopied jokes on cactuses (really, I have it). Meaning is there to have.

I’m not proposing a solution or a diagnosis of cause right now. I’m just recognizing this right now. I do suspect some of it is that we’ve built very complex, profit-driven societies and created a lot of technologies and media we’re promoting that we may not need or want. At some point everything became so abstract nothing means anything.

But now I can ask myself what does it mean when I look at a book, a movie, etc. I can ask why I do something and what really matters to me. I can also act less like a marketer . . . at least when I’m not marketing.

Steven Savage