From the (g)olden age to the information age

I try not to get too personal here, but some interesting things have happened that may make me cross that line a bit. This primarily concerns children of immigrants or those who have large elements of other cultures, but it's also food for thought for everyone. Bear with me, this is going someplace.

My grandmother lives with us. She's a dear and all, but she can be very annoying at times. She's my dad's mother, and so you always have that "mother-in-law" tension going on, but being here for 25+ years does a lot to ease that. When she's not criticizing in a "subtle" way, she's usually nitpicking at other things, but I feel that that's some leftover idiosyncrasy from her family life. Today, she was in a good mood, so I knew good conversation was coming forth. Normally, she talks about religious topics; folk stories and deeper religious stuff comes naturally for her. Sort of ironically, she's the most religiously liberal person I know.

Today, however, she decided to talk to us (my brother was present, too) about her childhood and her experiences. From where she was and how she grew up to where I am and how I've grown up, there have been tons and tonnes of changes. My grandmother told us stories of how she grew up in a village, how she could walk between two or three villages easily, with no worries about safety, about how she moved to Mumbai and picked up on some Marathi, about how her parents were and what was important to them.

As first-generation American-born kids, we have a lot of responsibility. Inevitably, the culture that's handed down to us will dissipate and fade over a few generations. Language usually goes first, and food goes last (or so I've found, while for me it's the opposite). Why is the preservation of this culture so important?

The way I see it, we learn very often through experience, but we also learn important lessons through the experiences of others. We learn not only how to act, think, and feel, but also how to be through what we learn from the experiences of others. If you have access to a wealth of experience from someone else in a drastically different place and time, why would you not use that? Of course, repeating "In my day, we had to..." as if it's some holy mantra doesn't really help the cause, but when you can show your kids, who are growing up with really nice plumbing and the internet what it was like to have to pump your own water and walk for miles just to get to school, you can show them that there's nothing wrong with hard work. Being smart isn't the only thing in the world, and there are plenty of people who don't luck out and have to work hard to make ends meet. Most importantly, just because you happen to be smarter, or work harder, it doesn't mean they don't deserve your respect.

There are important things worth keeping. Because of my background, I had an easier time identifying with and learning to work with certain ideas. Some of this was because of the remnants of clan culture that were passed on down, but a lot of it was independent of what my parents and grandparents taught me. There's even a handful which they consider completely rebellious. But, I found a lot of value in what I've learned. I want my kids to share that.

Actually, no I don't. My kids, and everyone else's, will be their own people. I can only try to give them what I have and hope they can use it. They will have their own dreams and hopes, beliefs and rebellious ideas. All I can do is provide what I value, in hopes that they will use it if they need it. I really think this is something that people in general forget. You don't have kids to make them something; kids are there to become something of their own.

And, while we have an easy way to find what we need, language doesn't quite work the same way. In my grandmother's time, and up to my parents time, you could easily tell where someone was from based on how they spoke. It's true of a lot of places today, too, but it's different when more than half of the active vocabulary in a language becomes borrowed English words. Gujarati now is degenerating rapidly, and indeed, so are many of the world's languages. It's not just English that's "taking over" either.

My grandmother's brand of Gujarati is very different from others'. Her dialect is one small way she identifies herself. We all have a need to identify ourselves and find belonging (consult Maslow if you're doubtful about that), and for many, familial/ancestral idiosyncrasies really help. More often than not, we mix and match those with our own ideas.

And this all will eventually fade. But, while we can, we're responsible to keep it going. Not in some trivial way. I hated being criticized for not being "a real Indian" because I ate meat (Hindus have a long history of eating all sorts of meat), or speaking imperfectly (everyone actively makes mistakes in speech in all languages). Just because I don't value what they, or they don't value what I do (you wouldn't believe how many of them don't know the first thing about actual Hinduism or Indian history), or I don't value it for the same reasons, I get criticized. The big picture is what's important here. What's important is that I find some sort of identity, and for my own purposes. We'd do well, all of us, to keep this kind of stuff in mind.

So, while I may be very annoyed at my grandmother for her nitpicky habits, I really love the times when we connect over important issues. I don't think I can properly explain what the internet is to her, or how the times have changed between mine and hers, but it's enough to know the difference and smile eagerly when she's telling me stories. Appreciation goes a long way. And, when she's stubbornly trying to be as self-sufficient as possible, I'll let her do her thing, but stand close by in case she does want my help. I hope that the future will see the past's desire to be self-sufficient, but will offer its help when necessary. It's the least we can do.

Portability; a cue from technology.

Portability. Either hardware or software, it applies.

Software portability, as you may or may not know, refers to the design of a program and how able it is to reuse existing code when in a new environment. This relies on an abstraction layer, which serves to negotiate between the system interface and the application. Essentially, when you want to make software that works on different systems without having to rewrite much (or any) of the code, you're focusing on portability. This reduces cost and effort in development while allowing a greater base from which to draw profit.

Physical portability is also an important concept. Nowadays, we have PDA-phones which make calls, get the internet, track our global position, and even test blood! Whether you're diabetic and testing your blood-sugar, lost and need to find directions, comparing prices, or talking to your mother - or all four! - you can look to a single handheld device to do this kind of stuff for you, no matter where you are. Even if you're using your phone to test blood for disease, portability makes everything easier.

The key to our highly active and mobile lifestyle can also be a source for spiritual inspiration.

In the wake of this amazing article about a preacher whose religious exclusivity was shattered by a five-year-old girl's giggle, I've been thinking about how our beliefs influence much of what we do, but how we can find ourselves backed in a corner when put in an environment that seems alien to us. As a Hindu who grew up in a largely Christian environment, I quickly learned to develop my beliefs and identify with my culture without having to constantly re-evaluate all of life when someone mentioned some holiday, hymn, or Biblical parable that I didn't know about. In retrospect, the surprising thing was that this made me more interested in the traditions of others.

It's a three-fold benefit, really. First and foremost, you find some suitable foundation upon which to base your beliefs. This keeps your belief-system stable. Secondly, you remain open to forming bonds with others based on your beliefs, while simutaneously not feeling pressured when you're among people whose beliefs differ vastly from your own. You learn that beliefs belong to individuals, not large, generic groups of people. This way, you can still believe what you want without condemning others for their beliefs. This gives you a great foundation for diverse friendships.

Lastly, and most importantly, you get to learn about others' beliefs phenomenologically (i.e. from within the tradition itself, instead of as an outsider). You learn more accurately about what others believe, instead of taking it one piece at a time. You don't analyze each individual piece as to whether or not it fits in your own belief system, then take a stance, and judge the next piece. You take it as a whole, and understand how it comes together, and then, you can choose to take your personal stance on its parts or its whole as you see fit. This is really important because now, even if you don't agree with someone's perspective, you can still understand and respect theirs. It really enables you to connect with a much larger set of people than just the ones in your immediate, shared-belief community.

This has a few important side-effects as well. With a strong, portable spiritual foundation, you don't feel as though you're constantly pushed to convert to a different religious structure. When you're not under pressure, you're more open to new ideas. With a better understanding of those ideas, you're more likely to not throw the bucket out with the water, should you find some aspect appealing but not others. You better understand the ramifications of a line of thought, as it applies to someone else, before you take it on. And, if you find that you don't agree, you don't feel animosity toward others, as so many people somehow do. You don't take it personally, and you are also more careful to make sure others don't take it personally as well.

So what does this mean in the long-run? You get less cataclysmic change and more gradual change in your spiritual perspective! This serves to make you less liable for what some people consider "huge pitfalls" on your path. Of course, there are no pitfalls, just more redirects, but if you can avoid being in that position in the first place, why not? Then, when you do have cataclysmic re-evaluations, you can also rearrange your belief structure more neatly and easily. When you find that you have to change your beliefs to accept more, it becomes easier to integrate that belief in your daily life. There's less time spent thinking, "But, if I believe this, then what does that mean about my other beliefs?" and more time actually acting and living. That sounds like some real low-cost development to me.

---

It looks like I haven't been able to make time and make up posts. At any rate, I'm posting, which is something.

Also, I'll be switching a few things around on the site, but since I haven't already plugged, here's my other blog: A Modern Hindu's Perspective. It's more geared towards actual religious and philosophical thoughts, and does use some technical terminology, but it's just as much fair game as this blog is. Enjoy, and thanks for reading!

Artistic transparency and author collaboration.

In Bookmark Now (my edition adds Writing in the Age of Information Overload to the title), Adam Johnson makes an interesting point.

Essentially, the book is a collection of essays by modern authors. They tackle various aspects of writing, addressing new authors and reader alike. The editor, Kevin Smokler, mentions how writing has evolved a lot in the time the internet has come to be a dominant force, and also how reading is still integral, despite youth reading "less" (i.e. fewer books).

Johnson points out that creation of art in this age is very different from previous ages. Art existed and each individual work had its purpose. By analyzing different pieces by the same artist, or by comparing one artist with one of his contemporaries, we can attempt to glimpse thoughts that he or she may have had while creating. The book, as a whole, mentions how in this age, the creative process becomes very transparent to the audience of a work of art. If you like one particular show, you can scour the web for blog posts by people involved, or for short behind-the-scenes clips. It's fairly easy to see the people involved in the production of something give their two cents' worth about their role. If you enjoy Battlestar Galactica (as I now do, courtesy of Darrell M. Stark), you can go online to Bear McCreary's blog and see how he went about choosing a piece of music for a particular scene.

In addition, collaboration is a big part of this. Whether it's an artist for one track, or two directors for a film, the results are always interesting. You may or may not enjoy the result, but you can not deny that the artist is affected. It really changes you to see someone else's take on something that you are working together on.

Johnson's insight is that writing, especially with regard to novels as a medium, is not something that this practice has pervaded completely. It's not that you don't have books with multiple authors, or collaborations. It's entirely different, however, to create stories on a normal basis with various people and get into the "nitty-gritty," so to speak.

It would be nice to think there was another model, though, one that could inspire a pair of young, edgy writers to walk along lonely railroad tracks, kicking rocks and running dialogue back and forth for the story they were writing. Or better yet: a husband and wife team in Nikes, debating about how to close a novel chapter as one folds laundry and the other changes a diaper.

The model Johnson is referring to here is the model of "how to tell stories that matter." And, personally, I love the idea of someday perusing the subtleties of a character with my wife. That's something to shoot for, isn't it? I mean, as long as we both enjoy writing, creating together.

It's great to use the individual talents of each person, and it's also poetic that each one will try to gain ground over a point of contention when both people are adamant about the direction of a story. To me, the most influential part of it all is the way you can witness the other's creative process, so similar in time and place, but so different in direction.

Two good friends of mine are both writers, and although they both write in different ways, I'd love to see them collaborate together on a project, especially after hearing both of their ideas and perspectives on a long car ride. And also, there's something romantic about two lovers writing their hearts out, together.

Contended craving.

One of the most important lessons in life, I feel, is learning to be content with what you have. Of course, my background is founded in the eastern monastic life, stopping craving and all. The idea there is that desire is the cause of unhappiness, because we crave things and when we're not granted them we fall prey to unhappiness. So, we must learn to curb our cravings and/or make our happiness based on something else.

This also ties into action, as if we do things based on what we'll get from them, we'll be susceptible to fear and anxiety. Our expectation of our "reward," or whatever the consequences we want to come out ultimately taint our action. The idea here is to act without being attached to results. Do, for the sake of doing, and then if you get the action it's nice, but since that isn't directly dependent on what our own actions are we mustn't put crucial importance on it. For example, I will be applying to Medical School, and the results of that application process aren't up to me, so I must do so without solely focusing on getting in, but on doing it properly. This often has the added benefit (for many people) of taking away stress, making the "doing" part easier (though others prefer pressure to get things done).

Of course, the major benefit of being content with what you have is that you really spend time, money, effort, etc. on things you need, or want so badly that it makes it worthwhile. However, as most of us know, this is damn near impossible when buying gadgets.

The way things work in the gadget industry, you spend tons of time looking at prices for something you want, doing comparison shopping to find out where to buy it, and tracking it down there, only to get there (or get to a website) to find that there's something newer, better, and cheaper (or more expensive, which equally disastrous). Then you go track down previews, reviews, reports of issues, find out what's good and what's not, and you start the process all over again.

On the other hand, once you buy something, something newer and better comes out. If you buy something new, you very often end up being a beta tester for a product that doesn't function as advertised, or loses support, or ends up being really crappy in comparison to the competing products that come out inevitably the day after your return policy ends. This says nothing of the excruciating time you spend trying to make your new toy work, the yelling and cursing you do when it doesn't, the time you take to get help from anywhere you can (friends, stores, online forums, even books!), more of the yelling and cursing to find out that it's not what you expected, only to find a glimmer of hope or happiness at the first moment of it performing properly.

And there's more. There are those, who are like me, who wait upwards of six months to go through the studying process, to learn what's coming up, how it will be implemented in comparison to what you plan on buying, and where your product's pitfalls are. Then, you judge that based on when you want/need it, how much it costs and will cost in the future, and whether the next generation is worth waiting for (and repeating the process for). Then you buy it, and you love it and lament the fact that you spent so long deliberating over buying it. Or, you realize you made a dire mistake, but it's too late to go return it and get something else. Or, also like me, you realize you didn't want it that much in the first place and you don't buy it (hey, it's a great way to save money!).

Buyer's remorse is ever present, and if not, there's the constant fear of it lurking around every corner. And when you buy computers, oh God, there are so many options, and you have to decide whether you want something bleeding edge, or something established, or something cheap, and all have their own repercussions.

So how can we possibly be content with what we have? The easy (i.e. cheap) choice is to not want things, or more likely in practice, just not buy them. But really, the process is important. You have to come to terms with the fact that anything you buy is sure to come with many complications, likely to be reduced to a paperweight in months (if you're lucky), and that you have to do your homework before buying. If you don't wait long enough, you won't know how established the product will be, or the pros and cons. If you wait too long, you increasingly risk buying with something better on the horizon, or with your product being outdated.

It may seem like you have to attain a Zen-like state of mind while being plugged into the internet to find that optimal moment, and learn jump fast and high. Really, it's about patience. You can't buy on a whim. And, unless what you got is a complete lemon, it's about being content with what's in front of you. You're never going to have the king of all gadgets (not for more than a month at any rate), and everything has its limitations. More importantly, you have to come to terms with the fact that there's no catch-all solution, no epitome of "all-in-one" sort of product. There's only ones that serve you needs, fall short, or go beyond. And, especially in this economy, it's important to know when you need to cut back on the spending.

Still, I say being content is easier than it sounds. Take some discipline and apply it to your cravings. Eventually, and you may have to trust me on this, after an initial rush of craving more, you'll get to a point where you'll desire things less. Then, when you do want something, you'll know how to make it money well spent, and you won't feel so overloaded by the process. Who knows? Maybe we can all even begin to appreciate the old-fashioned way to go about doing things a little bit more.

Programmer-monks.

I was talking about how far technology has come recently, especially through the 80s. Arcade machines came up, and how the intense rush to get the high score and live in infamy was something unique, something that home consoles didn't provide, at least not to the same extent.

In those days, arcades were the hub of a lot of teenage activity, not to mention a real money-maker for the owners. Kids would compete not only with each other, but with the scores of those vague initials of no-show champions. Regardless of how many quarters it took to get the high score, it was a noble endeavor. A champion would emerge from any group huddled around a machine, and one cocky kid would accept any and all newcomers to take their part in joining an ever-increasing group of kids who lost.

One power surge, one outage, or worse-yet, one flip of a switch, and all of the machines would be off. Most machines in those days lacked the ability to save the scores without power. (This was something that The Legend of Zelda on the NES/Famicom was famous for: a small backup battery in the cartridge that allowed 'saving' of progress.) I've even heard of arcades that would purposely turn off the power at night, though it's completely understandable.

Elsewhere in the world, we have the Tibetan monks. We can imagine a snow-covered temple, monks inside studying scriptures and art, meditating, chanting and yes, even praying. One of their pursuits was designing mandalas (sanskrit मण्डल, meaning circular, round, ball, ring, orb, and also multitude, group, band, collection, whole body). Along with drawn and painted mandalas, they also did massive sand mandalas, though these were more famous after the Tibetan Buddhists came to other countries and areas.

The beauty behind the sand mandalas was the same as the beauty behind the handful of arcades who shut their machines down at night: the expression of impermanence. Sand mandalas, once made, were meditated on and often photographed by passersby, and then brushed away. Not so different from gamers working hard and getting a high score, only to have them lost to decaying ones and zeros on the circuit boards of a powered-off machine. The beautiful reminder that, while the good things in life end, the bad things do, too. It's an echo Solomon's silver ring, "This, too, shall pass."

Impermanence is an important lesson in life. I bet many of you don't know that it takes only five hundred years for reinforced concrete to give way to nature. A thousand years will render concrete into the soil, nothing remaining of the memory of human presence. And yes, while the pyramids of old still stand, we must remember that four-and-a-half thousand years is not much in the great scheme of things, including the history of humanity as a whole (unless, I suppose, you are a Creationist of the Abrahamic religions).

Think about that, the next time you go for a high score in whatever game you're playing, or if you try to have 100% completion files for all of your games. Feel free to delete the file once you finish. In doing so, not only are you freeing your memory card, but you're calling out an acknowledgement that most Buddhists share. You're breathing life into an ancient memory, though in a more technological, and not untrue way.

A long way in a short time.

A bedtime post. I thought I'd make a short commentary on technology tonight, in anticipation for the upcoming week.

Technology. Mention it, and the first thing that most of us in the older end of the "internet generation" can think of is, "We've come a long way. I remember when..." Many of the early teens out there probably know a lot about how their older siblings or parents had to deal with 14.4 modems, or how they could get free phone calls with Cap'n Crunch whistles. They probably haven't heard of the Bell Labs stuff, the beginnings of BSD, or vacuum tubes. My friend Casey recently moved out to California and had a professor who had to explain programming with vacuum tubes, and how punch cards worked. Even at (almost) 23 years, I feel old knowing this when so many of my younger peers don't.

The reason is that technology progresses, and at an increasingly more astonishing rate. Blah blah Moore's law, blah blah blah cheaper, blah blah blah blah blah, blah innovation blah.

Now, I'd like to call to attention an article from Lifehacker's Kelly Abbott, entitled "How Zach Braff (and I) Get Thank-You Notes Done." The article explains how both the auther and Zach Braff use an "old-fashioned" (compared to computer, I suppose) typewriter to personalize their own thank-you notes. Kelly Abbott contributes weekly to a series of articles called "Ungeek to Live" at Lifehacker.com. I read it religiously.

In a time where technology improves close to light-speed, it's nice to take some time out and remember to do things slower. Not just remember, but learn how to, and why it's sometimes better to do things in a "dated" manner. I've taken up calligraphy, and I write things in an even more old-fashioned way than standard pen and paper. I've ground my own ink, fixed my own quills, and scratched a lot of paper before I learned how to "paint" words properly, and I still am nowhere near consistent. But talk about letting your emotions unfold! As I write, my hand gives words an incredible character, almost akin to changing fonts at will depending on how I'm feeling whilst I write, automatically. Quick, determined writing is scribbled in print, while poetic thoughts turn out with (attempted) graceful cursives bends. If I'm rushing, afraid, enthused, or bored, it shows up without me even having to. Or, should I so choose, I can make my handwriting appear to be any of those even when I myself am not.

Just an example. It's rewarding to take a step back from fast-paced everything (including progress) now and again. It's a "rebuilding" moment that gives you some room to prepare mentally, so that when you rush in again, you're primed. It has become a science in and of itself, much like a lot of the byproducts of habits in our tech age, like blogging and programming VCRs (if any of you still know what those are). For the first time, I see how new fields, subjects in school, and departments in universities pop up.

So, should you ungeek, or supergeek to live, take a bit of time to consider why the opposite is so important, and spend some time intertwining the two. I think you'll find that together, technology and nontechnology can go well together.

---

In retrospect, I should've alluded to the bauhaus again.

And, I realize that "Just an example" should have gone with the previous paragraph, as that would have been more proper. Screw prescriptive tendencies. I like my leftist writing style.