You Are Constantly Being Assaulted by Tiny Stabs of Meaning.
My About Me is really about us.
Do you hear it? Do you feel it?
Advertising, logos, news, social media. Our culture suddenly had the epiphany that story sells. And humanity started strip-mining its consciousness.
There is no context.
There is no through-line.
In our strident, bold efforts to reach each other, we sometimes forget our reasons. The richness which would infuse our lives with vitality and purpose, if only we would let it, has been wrapped in so many layers of shiny, sparkly paper, we’re left to wonder if there really is a gift in there at all.
And no-one is immune from feeling its effects. Least of all anyone who thinks they’re immune.
And no-one is immune to being its cause. Least of all anyone who thinks they’re immune.
Oh how we love our labels, and our scapegoats.
Suddenly, everyone is trying to outdo everyone else, and tell a more splashy, compelling, disruptive narrative.
That’s our nature. Whether sending or receiving, we are all meaning makers. Attention is our new currency, and the powers that be would be happy to take enough to leave all of us bankrupt. They jostle with each other, competing for a larger and larger portion of the forefront of our minds.
We get to choose what to tune into. But it’s more than that. More urgent. More dire. We can’t afford not to choose. Always, always choose!
We are each our own meaning curator.
As we like frustrated toddlers, find ourselves surrounded with shrapnel-like scraps of wrapping paper, we must again look for the gift in it we’ve missed…or lost…
…with the faith
that it is there
to be found.