Categories
Connecting

We be three: intellect, spirit, and heart

I had this little brainstorm, which will probably scare you a bit. Regardless, in this brainstorm, it came to me that when people communicate with others, especially in writing, they wear one of three filters: intellect, spirit, or heart.

A person whose filter is intellect loves debate and any form of mental manipulation. They prefer the covert over the overt because there is more interest in subtle topics and verbal challenges. They may reference writings or articles, but that’s not a hallmark of the intellect as much as the tone of the discourse. If one were to describe a person wearing an intellect filter, one would use words such as reasoned, calm, intellectual, open, and logical.

I want to emphasis the use of ‘open’ in the last paragraph because it is here that I think the intellect most differs from the person whose filter is spirit. Spirit in this sense has nothing to do with religion as much as it does with authority. The person who reads and writes through a spiritual filter measures everything against authority, and tends to speak in such a manner as to close doors rather than opening them. Their writing, and most other forms of verbal communication is definitive rather than debative.

The spirit filtered person’s words can generate much discussion but a great deal of this can focus on the person’s authoritative manner as much as on what the person had to say. Regardless of the topic, they tend to dominate it and they can be inflexible once they’ve made up their mind.

Diametrically opposite to the spiritual filter is the filter of the heart. I say ‘opposite’ because those who read or write through the heart filter tend to be the most empathetic, and somewhat due to this, the most indecisive. They are also most often drawn to words that invoke imagery and are highly attuned to their senses. Unlike spirit and intellect, they are more inward facing and tend to write more from their own experiences rather than in response to others’.

Intellect: I think.

Spirit: I believe.

Heart: I feel.

It’s no surprise that I consider myself a heart filtered person. I’m more likely to write about or be drawn to works reflecting emotion or the senses, rather than the mind or an external authority.

When I write, I see an emotional pattern in a story and emotions become my pallete with which to paint. For instance, the story of The End of War + 1 is painted with a dark palette of despair, with overtones of fear, defeat, and hopelessness. Though the tones are dark, they’re also muted, deliberately separating out any sense of an individual except for one brief moment with the curator. This adds a slight flicker of color, just enough to connect, not enough to overwhelm. The story was painted not to generate discussion but to generate a sense of discomfort; a jarring note among all the bloodless, placid intellectualizations about the war and the effect on the Iraqi people.

Writing emotionally and communicating through a heart filter are not the same thing. Continuing my color metaphor, some of the most profound heart filtered works I’ve read have used colors so subtle as to seem to be shades of white, but whose impact on the reader is an explosion within of color that burns with hot reds and golds, or freezes with blistering blues.

Haven’t you read something that makes you feel as if you’ve been cast adrift in the middle of the ocean and there’s nothing around you but that deep sea green? You look down into the water beneath you and you can’t see anything; but you know there’s strange unknown life there, and a bottom that’s so far away as to not exist. This is what I call the “fathomless green”, and works of writing of this nature change you. Forever.

Conversely, I’ve read things that are positively dripping with emotion, oozing purple and tomato red and lime green, but are incredibly manipulative – not as a way of instilling within the person the subtleties of the emotion, but as a way of achieving an end. This is an admirable use of the intellect filter, which believes in using whatever tool to get the job done. Not from deviousness, but from the joy of stretching the mind, testing it, building it up.

People don’t have to be completely one filter all the time. A person can have an intellect filter, but overlay it with one from the heart and write passionate arguments that invoke emotion; however, the emotions tend to be more external than internal, and thus safer and more controlled. Controlled is the key term here. The purer the heart filter, the more simple and primal are the emotions.

A person who normally writes and reads through a spiritual filter can begin an intellectual discourse, but it tends to be on subjects that are safely distant from the person’s own core of beliefs. The closer the subject is to the person’s authoritative center, the less likely they are to be open to debate, or to debate in such a way as to easily leave open doors.

The person who works through a heart filter can become involved in intellectual debates, but is easily discouraged or even dissuaded at the give and take, the sharp wit and edges that can occur in these debates. In particular, they would never indulge in mental gymnastics, role playing, or mental games – these would leave them feeling uncomfortable, and they would react accordingly; this would most likely irritate those with an intellect filter or spirit filter.

The person with the intellect filter won’t join in the conversation amongst heart filter people – they would find the conversation to be too exposed, too vulnerable, and of little challenge. The concepts would be too far from the head, to close to the heart. Their strengths lie in the mind and senses, or emotions, play only secondary interest for them. Again, not because they are emotionless, but because the mind is their comfort zone.

Sometimes the differences between the three can become so disparate as to leave a person feeling as if they lack something, when in effect what’s happening is they’re a person wearing one filter trying to converse with others all wearing a different filter. In this situation, the best course is for the person to remember that the world takes all kinds, and perhaps they should leave. We don’t all have to join every conversation. Sometimes sitting alone quietly in the corner is the best course.

Other times, though, you may have to, or choose to, work through the communication disconnect when you’re a filter wearer of one kind surrounded by others. The spirit filtered person learns to level out a bit when surrounded by intellect or heart filters or they know they’ll chase people away.
Intellects learn the value of passionate argument, and hearts learn the strengths of reason.

I’ve worked through two forms of filter-based disconnect from two different directions this last year – one associated with my RDF work, and one associated with some of the people I know through weblogging.

The RDF people have been strongly intellect or spirit filtered, rarely heart. This doesn’t mean they’re not emotional or unfeeling, but this does mean that much of their discussion can reflect their sheer love of debate; making it a bit difficult for a heart person such as myself, who wants to zero in on the core of the issue, to find something to grab hold of. I am intimidated, and sometimes irritated. I may then break in, which is incorrect behavior because I’m then forcing my filter type on others. As for spirit filtered, it’s not surprising that many of the RDF Core Working Group members have this – it would seem to me to be a trait necessary for anyone being on a standards committee. Unfortunately, too much authority and I find myself backing out and backing down, sometimes when I shouldn’t.

That’s not to say that people with an intellect filter are the most intellectual – the person who was brought in to define and document the model theory underlying RDF – the semantics – is an incredibly scary smart person, but I found him very approachable. Why? Because of the way that he’ll test new means of communication with me to see if we can establish a common frame of reference, a very empathetic action. And empathy tends to be heart filtered.

Another RDFer person who I have felt comfortable with is a blogger whose name I won’t mention because I don’t want to mention anyone but myself with this little bit-bucketing process of mine. I sense within him a filter of heart, again because of his empathy, though this doesn’t lessen his intellectual arguments, or his authoritative assertions.

In weblogging, I find myself drawn occasionally into a discussion that’s almost purely intellect filtered, or dominated by one or two spirit filtered, and I’m not going to come away better for having participated. Usually. However, sometimes I participate anyway because I’m not always purely heart – I let my bossy nature dominate at times, or try running the creaky wheels of my mind around the block to keep it in moving condition.

However, it doesn’t take much for me to begin feeling out of place, even inferior, and these feelings are signs that I need to re-focus my energy on my strengths, rather than expend it in arenas that just don’t work for me. This is the most important lesson I’ve learned, and I’m still learning it. Self-doubt is your mind’s way of telling you to change your environment.

This is all so hard to explain. I need someone with an intellect filter to organize it, and a spirit filter to sell it. Me, I’m just a person holding a paint brush, wondering what to paint next.

Categories
Connecting

Virtual Friends

Recovered from the Wayback Machine.

The only problem with virtual friends is that the friendship is based on vapour and smoke, with an occasional glimpse into a mirror to make you think you’re seeing something real.

Categories
Art

Digital Genres conference

I wanted to point out what could be a potentially interesting conference in Chicago, May 30-31: Digital Genres Conference. According to Alex Golub, the focus of the conference is:

In 1924 Gilbert Seldes’ The 7 Lively Arts made one of the earliest and most powerful arguments that popular genres of entertainment such as jazz and cinema deserved the same critical attention afforded the fine arts – a view that is now widely accepted. This conference seeks to do today for digital genres what Seldes did for the lively arts eighty years before.

It’s nice to see a conference in the mid-west rather than East or West coast. And the topic doesn’t sound like it’s been done to death.

I, unfortunately won’t be attending. In fact, I won’t be attending any conferences or meet-ups this year. I even turned down doing a presentation a O’Reilly’s Open Source conference, which was a bit of an ouch – I would have enjoyed being there.

However, less gadabouting  means more writing and pics, right? Always a silver lining.

(Thx to Dorothea for link)

Categories
Diversity Political

Uncompromising Individualism

Recovered from the Wayback Machine.

This essay is long, and includes terms that are racially offensive, but also representative of the time in which they were used.

Much of my earliest reading was through books I pilfered from my brother’s shelves when he was out playing with his friends. It was through my brother that I was introduced to comic characters such as Superman and Batman, that guy made out of stone, Spiderman, and so on. My first exposure to science fiction was E.E. “Doc” Smith, and my first classic novel was “Song of Hiawatha” by Longfellow.

It was also through my ‘borrowing’ that I was introduced at a very young age to Ayn Rand’s “Fountainhead”.

It’s no surprise that Ayn Rand was favored reading in our school. Her philosophy of Rational Egoism and Objectivism was perfect fodder for a people who were extreme Libertarians even before there were Libertarians. Each man takes care of himself and his family and those neighbors he knows, but the rest of the world “out there” is someone else’s problem. If God didn’t intend the strong to survive he wouldn’t have given us two hands and a gun to hold.

I didn’t particularly understand politics at the time. I knew that one close family friend had a bomb shelter in his backyard, and another buried jars of real metal coins along with food and weapons throughout his property, but I just thought this was the way people lived. “Get us out of UN now” posters don’t mean much when you don’t know what UN is, and the sign outside of Kettle “welcoming us to John Birch Country” was nothing more than a visual indicator that we were getting close to home – same as the funny pile of boulders along the left side of the road, and the drive in movie picture place.

The rest of the country may have had troubles with race but my people knew who the real enemy was: the Communists. And they knew for an actual fact, that someday the Reds would be in our town, knocking down our doors and forcing the Godless ways of Communism on us.

(All the while our parents worried about the communists, we kids bought black licorice nigger babies at the candy store, and picked past the nigger toes to get to the cashews in the all nut mix. And I never did understand why my two half Native American friends from across the street couldn’t join me when I went to the community swimming pool.)

In those days, unless the weather was foul, I’d climb out my bedroom window to read on the roof. We had a big two-story home taller than most around and I could look our far enough to see Main Street and even a little bit of the grass around the school. On the rooftop, I read the story about the architect who was uncompromisingly brilliant in his art, disdaining the acceptance and success more conventional designs would bring him. Ayn Rand would say of the book that it reflected “…individualism versus collectivism, not in politics, but in man’s soul.”

I was too young to understand about individualism or collectivism, but I did understand about an uncompromising dedication to one’s art or one’s belief, something I was to see in my own father, who I greatly admire. The book left in me a deeply ingrained dislike against conformity, even such conformity as is considered ‘necessary’ for the common good.

Not long after reading Fountainhead, we moved to Seattle. It was there, while I was a “Candy Striper” (a teenage volunteer) at a local hospital that I met a young black orderly who gently explained to me that ‘nigger’ wasn’t a polite term. This same young man also introduced me to the words of Martin Luther King, and I found myself lost in the power of “I have a Dream”, and the belief that we shall overcome. At the same time, Vietnam was becoming more of a nightmare and if I couldn’t see that man’s manifest destiny was filled by oppressing blacks, it certainly wasn’t being filled by killing and being killed by Vietnamese in a place we clearly didn’t belong. I embraced both the civil rights movement and the peace movement, and happily joined arms with my brothers and sisters of all colors to call for an end to war, and an end to oppression.

I saw no discrepancy between joining these movements and my continued belief in uncompromising individuality. I felt strongly that every person had a right to achieve their own success as an individual, and that a society that sought to oppress individuals because of color or nationality was wrong, and needed to be fixed. There is no hypocrisy in recognizing that a group may achieve what an individual cannot, but still believe in individualism.

Which leads me to today. To here. To now.

There has been discussion recently about community and individualism. In particular, Trevor Bechtel wrote the following:

Isn’t the cultural narrative of communites much more powerful than any personal self-knowledge I, or any individual, might posess. Surely I must assent to aspects of one or more communities representations of the world and this in turn shapes the community but the articulation is at the community level first and always most strongly. I may struggle mightily with a community, even one I feel deeply committed to, but it is only in understanding my life in the context of a communal narrative that I can understand life at all. Culture moves us forward not in an inevitable march of progress but simply because it forces us to stand on others shoulders. There is no scratch from which an individual could start an articulation of self-knowledge. And even if there was, who would want to?

An individual’s ideas are rarely that interesting. A communities ideas, even when they are wrong or limiting or confining often are.

Bechtel continues this theme in Happy Tutor’s comments:

I think many people find it necessary to be individuals and this probably isn’t all bad, but in the end it is the dynamics of there relationship to their community that shapes who they are.

As Happy Tutor rightfully has pointed out, I am nothing but a computer geek and not a learned PhD or academic, so I can’t depend on an academic argument to bolster my view. However, in spite of this, I do know when I read something that completely misses the strengths of individuality in the rush to extol the virtues of the communal good. He forgets the power of free will.

To make of each of us into nothing more than a puppet to the community’s whims and actions would still see me back in a small town in the middle of nowhere, married with a dozen children, racist, bigoted, and afraid of anything outside of that which is comfortably familiar. However, lest you think it was exposure to another community that changed me, think again. It was my own uncompromising individuality that started my discordant communion with my ‘community’.

In the fifth grade, before I moved to Seattle, we were given a topic to write about: “what the flag means to me”. Among all the stories of patriotism and love and belief in “God, Family, and Country” that the flag represented to my classmates, I wrote an essay that said, in effect, that the flag was basically a piece of cloth, it could have just as easily been orange, green, and purple as much as red, white, and blue, and it was basically nothing more than a symbol, which could have easily been replaced by some other symbol. I also said that I thought the Pledge of Allegience was so many emptry words, and saluting the flag was an empty gesture.

As you can imagine, this didn’t exactly make my fellow classmates happy. I do have a very vivid memory in my mind of my friends reactions that day in class. Very vivid.

No act of the community helped me arrive at my viewpoint. No one coached me in these words. This was me taking a close look at the community around me and seeing for myself the emptiness in so many of our gestures. It was my free will, my individuality, which gave me the ability to look at what the community offered and to choose to reject it.

Was I out to change minds? No, I was only answering the question truthfully for me. Did I change the community or enrich it? Not a chance. This act was the act of an individual operating, however momentarily, outside of the community. Did that make my act unimportant? No! For me, it was probably one of my most defining acts of my life, one that I continue to this day with all my ‘contrary’ writings.

Now, your reaction might be to say, then, that I lack individuality because I deliberately choose a contrary viewpoint. Of course, this becomes somewhat tantamount to the old question of “When did you stop beating your wife”.

I don’t deliberately choose a contrary viewpoint. There are hundreds of events that occur daily that I don’t write about, either yay or nay; and hundreds that I write in support. But there are few things more irritating to me then to see herd like behavior in pursuit of the “good of the commons”, particularly when any behavior outside of the ‘herd’ is considered ‘bad form’. Or unpatriotic.

There are also few things I dislike more than acts, covert as well as overt, attempting to silence those who do not agree. Something I’m seeing with disquieting regularity within this form of communication we call ‘weblogging’.

When I see these things, these group behaviors, I am moved to act. If these actions are the act of a mindless automaton as part of reaction to ‘community’ so be it. Beep, friggen, beep.

Am I denying that we’re part of communities? Can an individual be part of a community? Of course. As John Donne wrote:

No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main.

We are on a small world, existing on finite resources. Our actions can and do have repercussions on others. To deny that is to deny our responsibility to the greater community that is Earth. But accepting our responsibility as citizens of this world does not preclude the existence of the individual, or the importance of individualism. We belong to as many communities as communities have people, and with each, we choose what to receive from, or to give back to, the community. We choose. We choose.

To say that we are hapless participants within a community, unimportant of and by ourselves is to deny all that is great in us – is to deny our individuality. Our uniqueness. The wonder of Me in each of us.

Categories
Connecting

Imagine this is a door

Recovered from the Wayback Machine.

Imagine that this is a door for a moment. Do you have the picture in your mind? Your door might be all wood, or it might be a painted door – blue or green.

Perhaps its a metal door. With bars. If so, get help.

Now that you have this picture in your mind, I want you to visualize a sign on it, white paper, big black letters. The sign says:

Please do not disturb.