“Move Slow and Fix Things” - thank you, we should make flags and bumper stickers. I enjoyed this rich and nuanced essay, lots to slow down and think about.
Hi. I am only halfway through reading this, a most eloquent and yes, exquisite essay. (Thank you!) I love this: "Loneliness, then, may not be a lack of intimacy: it may in fact be a lack of embeddedness. We may, in fact, be utterly “seen and known” by our friends and family. But more than that, we want to be required, to be held taut in a web of interchange that is aware — by necessity — of our talents and our resources. We want to be held close, but for that closeness to be selfish on the other’s part. We want our closeness to be mutually beneficial, not merely a favor or an expression of generous love."
I recently quit my 100% remote job because, among several reasons, I felt such a painful lack of connection with the people of that company and of being amongst others' energy. But I love how you describe it, as "embeddedness." In my case, I did NOT feel seen and known. I felt very unseen, and unknown...to these people I was working with and who I was supposedly to get some high-pressure work done with. AND it so happens, the desk job with its requisite hours to log was preventing me from getting out in nature, which is the true church of my soul. For many long years, anyone who truly knows me will say, when I am down, "She just needs to get out in nature."
Your essay on this topic is precise and wonderful.
Gorgeous essay, Michelle. I love the twist at the end. You were right, I was expecting a "nature is utopia" ending. Instead you explored the consequences of embeddedness in nature with a clear realism that was stunning.
It makes me think: The embeddedness in nature we desire is embeddedness within a system that is constantly dying and rebirthing itself, its individual actors competing and eating each other just as much as they support and rely on each other. Returning to nature isn't returning to a utopic state of innocence, but to a reality in which awareness of the imminence of death is ever-present, along with the awareness that the only thing standing between us and death is our us-ness.
Thus, as you pointed out, we desire to be necessary to each other's survival. But that kind of necessity is hard to come by in today's society. It's hard to come by because, at least in first-world countries, at least in non-marginalized communities, it's easy to survive. Our survival is outsourced to the invisible arms of the industrial machine and to the relatively affordable technology that now powers our society.
Maybe it's for this reason that positive psychology has created a distinction between surviving and thriving. In the modern, first-world context, it's not enough to survive. Real happiness is something else, something you have to pursue—something that seems more elusive the more you reach for it. But maybe this is not how things always have been, or always have to be. I can only imagine, but I imagine that when survival is a communal act, surviving *is* thriving: the ultimate validation of our existence in a world that needs us to exist.
How much of poor mental health, and of loneliness especially, comes from feeling inessential as a result of the impersonal ease of survival?
On a personal note, your essay makes me think differently about my own struggles with chronic illness and the loneliness I've felt in my illness. For a long time, I thought my internal resistance to calling or texting my closest friends was due to fear of not being understood. Silly, because they are super-understanders. Now I think it's because all they could offer was understanding. Back in college, when we were all going through similar things, understanding each other was a way of understanding ourselves better. When we talked, we workshopped our shared struggles. We were necessary to each other. But what is the point of being understood when the act of understanding you doesn't benefit the other person? That kind of understanding feels detached and lifeless, like the extra junk that accumulates in drawers.
In the past few months, I've felt most connected when I've worked together with other team members in my lab toward shared research goals. Being known and seen as a whole person is not a huge part of that dynamic. But I feel necessary. I'm always happier on the days when I've collaborated with others.
Also, I feel embedded in the greater ecosystem of planet Earth when I watch PBS Eons, a Youtube channel I discovered recently. Worth checking out: https://www.youtube.com/c/eons
My birch Bettie, my indoor plants (among them Rubby, a rubber tree that I've been moving around the country with me for 23 years, Hibulicious, Spidey and Tom) and an as-yet unnamed century-old walnut tree around the corner that would require 3 of me with arms interlinked to reach around its massive trunk, all thank you for understanding our divined bond and writing it out so gorgeously.
Your essays shape my mind so much, Michelle. Thank you!
I've been workshopping a series of articles on creativity & corporate culture with Vishesh Gupta, & beneath his brilliant systems thinking is a very related idea: that wanting a good/safe outcome leads to stifled creativity -- if we want creative culture we need a culture that embraces the fulness & messiness of life.
Mechanized modern culture strives for control, safety, domination. It often sells us relationships or products as the end of loneliness. And I think you & the commenter named Eleanor are right (no idea who she is, but she sounds super hot), there's even a bit of Mechanized culture in our utopic view of embracing nature: the idea that nature lets us be fully happy & stable.
The reality, you point out, is richer & also more terrible. It's an embededness, a connection, one bigger than us & outside our control.
This was exquisite – and motivating, not only to continue to try to, well, fix things, but to write about it. Easy subscribe. Thank you for this.
“Move Slow and Fix Things” - thank you, we should make flags and bumper stickers. I enjoyed this rich and nuanced essay, lots to slow down and think about.
Hi. I am only halfway through reading this, a most eloquent and yes, exquisite essay. (Thank you!) I love this: "Loneliness, then, may not be a lack of intimacy: it may in fact be a lack of embeddedness. We may, in fact, be utterly “seen and known” by our friends and family. But more than that, we want to be required, to be held taut in a web of interchange that is aware — by necessity — of our talents and our resources. We want to be held close, but for that closeness to be selfish on the other’s part. We want our closeness to be mutually beneficial, not merely a favor or an expression of generous love."
I recently quit my 100% remote job because, among several reasons, I felt such a painful lack of connection with the people of that company and of being amongst others' energy. But I love how you describe it, as "embeddedness." In my case, I did NOT feel seen and known. I felt very unseen, and unknown...to these people I was working with and who I was supposedly to get some high-pressure work done with. AND it so happens, the desk job with its requisite hours to log was preventing me from getting out in nature, which is the true church of my soul. For many long years, anyone who truly knows me will say, when I am down, "She just needs to get out in nature."
Your essay on this topic is precise and wonderful.
God this was beautiful. Thank you!
This was lovely. I was struck by your phrase “the lexical mind.” Is that from a theorist, or is that just your own brilliant phrasing?
Gorgeous essay, Michelle. I love the twist at the end. You were right, I was expecting a "nature is utopia" ending. Instead you explored the consequences of embeddedness in nature with a clear realism that was stunning.
It makes me think: The embeddedness in nature we desire is embeddedness within a system that is constantly dying and rebirthing itself, its individual actors competing and eating each other just as much as they support and rely on each other. Returning to nature isn't returning to a utopic state of innocence, but to a reality in which awareness of the imminence of death is ever-present, along with the awareness that the only thing standing between us and death is our us-ness.
Thus, as you pointed out, we desire to be necessary to each other's survival. But that kind of necessity is hard to come by in today's society. It's hard to come by because, at least in first-world countries, at least in non-marginalized communities, it's easy to survive. Our survival is outsourced to the invisible arms of the industrial machine and to the relatively affordable technology that now powers our society.
Maybe it's for this reason that positive psychology has created a distinction between surviving and thriving. In the modern, first-world context, it's not enough to survive. Real happiness is something else, something you have to pursue—something that seems more elusive the more you reach for it. But maybe this is not how things always have been, or always have to be. I can only imagine, but I imagine that when survival is a communal act, surviving *is* thriving: the ultimate validation of our existence in a world that needs us to exist.
How much of poor mental health, and of loneliness especially, comes from feeling inessential as a result of the impersonal ease of survival?
On a personal note, your essay makes me think differently about my own struggles with chronic illness and the loneliness I've felt in my illness. For a long time, I thought my internal resistance to calling or texting my closest friends was due to fear of not being understood. Silly, because they are super-understanders. Now I think it's because all they could offer was understanding. Back in college, when we were all going through similar things, understanding each other was a way of understanding ourselves better. When we talked, we workshopped our shared struggles. We were necessary to each other. But what is the point of being understood when the act of understanding you doesn't benefit the other person? That kind of understanding feels detached and lifeless, like the extra junk that accumulates in drawers.
In the past few months, I've felt most connected when I've worked together with other team members in my lab toward shared research goals. Being known and seen as a whole person is not a huge part of that dynamic. But I feel necessary. I'm always happier on the days when I've collaborated with others.
Also, I feel embedded in the greater ecosystem of planet Earth when I watch PBS Eons, a Youtube channel I discovered recently. Worth checking out: https://www.youtube.com/c/eons
My birch Bettie, my indoor plants (among them Rubby, a rubber tree that I've been moving around the country with me for 23 years, Hibulicious, Spidey and Tom) and an as-yet unnamed century-old walnut tree around the corner that would require 3 of me with arms interlinked to reach around its massive trunk, all thank you for understanding our divined bond and writing it out so gorgeously.
Your essays shape my mind so much, Michelle. Thank you!
I've been workshopping a series of articles on creativity & corporate culture with Vishesh Gupta, & beneath his brilliant systems thinking is a very related idea: that wanting a good/safe outcome leads to stifled creativity -- if we want creative culture we need a culture that embraces the fulness & messiness of life.
Mechanized modern culture strives for control, safety, domination. It often sells us relationships or products as the end of loneliness. And I think you & the commenter named Eleanor are right (no idea who she is, but she sounds super hot), there's even a bit of Mechanized culture in our utopic view of embracing nature: the idea that nature lets us be fully happy & stable.
The reality, you point out, is richer & also more terrible. It's an embededness, a connection, one bigger than us & outside our control.
I'm going to keep pondering all this... ❤️