On feeling lost

Some early observations from the first online discussion about simplicity. Before we can find meaning, do we first have to feel lost?

Yesterday was the first live online discussion “On simplicity…” As far as I can tell, we all had a great time lively discussing many aspects of simplicity — perhaps too many for one session. This one was more broad than deep. As we work our way through the series, I promise future conversations will be more focused, as each article zooms in on a specific aspect from my two 10-item lists.

I still need more time to process our 90-minute conversation properly. Expect to read more about it here shortly. However, one thing stood out for me right from the beginning. So much so, that I needed to sit down and write about it right away.

A lost software engineer

As you do in such meetings, I asked everybody at the beginning to introduce themselves briefly. To set expectations and give an example to keep introductions short and crisp, I went ahead and introduced myself. As part of my introduction I described myself as “a lost software engineer turned researcher”.

There are many things I meticulously prepared for this event. My own introduction was not one of them. I don’t know where that word “lost” came from. Maybe I thought it would be funny, in the sense of not taking my technical background too seriously. But this word was about to be pulled into the spotlight.

Several participants adopted that same word for their own introductions. It clearly resonated. We had a few more lost engineers, a lost architect, and a lost data scientist. Overall, it felt like we immediately bonded a little bit over feeling lost together. My S1 pattern detection triggered a change in my salience landscape.

In hindsight I wish I had steered the conversation more in that direction, but only after our meeting I had a soft insight. I say “soft” because I still have not figured out what it means. But I say “insight” because what I couldn’t see before was now obvious to me, and I can no longer go back to not seeing the pattern:

Is feeling lost a prerequisite to resonate with my writing?

This was my insight from the round of introductions yesterday. I would not have used the word “lost” before, although I noticed already that people who immediately pin down the big questions, those that I am also still trying to find answers for, are searching for something. And that desire to find something opens them up to the ideas written about here.

I don’t know what exactly makes us feel that way. I suspect we feel that something is not right. Perhaps even something going horribly wrong on a large scale, in society, with technology, slowly creeping into all our lives.

But this is just a feeling. We cannot describe it clearly. We cannot explain it thoroughly. But we want to do something about it. We want to contribute in some way to alleviate this. But without proper diagnosis, how can we find a treatment?

That makes sense to me. There is a reason why I’m trying to make connections to the Meaning Crisis. I’m pretty confident that what makes us feel lost is a lack of meaning in our lives, on all three dimensions — coherence, purpose, and significance — and a modal confusion that pushes us further away from ever getting it back.

We are walking steadily into a more and more mechanized and automated world that blinds us with utility, convenience, and progress. Just to one day wake up to our dependence on all the things we don’t understand, which we can no longer change, and which robbed us of our agency to find and make meaning. Will it be too late?

Do we have to be lost to “get it”?

It is easy to detect who resonates with these ideas and who doesn’t. I can tell from the details people latch on to and from the questions they ask.

Some people focus on small details that are not really important for the story I am trying to tell. They are just examples, analogies, metaphors. They serve to embellish the abstract concepts and make them more specific, more vivid, more digestible. They are supposed to help you absorb the main point.

And so I get pulled into arguments about the scientific validity of Darwin’s theory of evolution and what role randomness plays in it, when evolution is really just supposed to serve as an analogy to illustrate enabling and selective constraints in a dynamic system that enable opponent processing.

Or I — quite understandably — offend someone working in advertising, when I quote Vervaeke as he uses a shampoo commercial to illustrate how it captures our attention with bullshit. It’s supposed to be a demonstration of how susceptible we are to self-deception, and how this condition of ours is widely exploited to care less about what’s true or real.

I am neither an evolutionary biologist nor an advertising executive. Yet I find these examples relatable. They make sense to me in the context they are presented. They serve me well to illustrate the point I am trying to make.

At the same time I understand that those who are deeply familiar with these domains and accustomed to the complexities involved, have detail to add because the examples lack nuance. However, their role in my screenplay is a supportive one. Debating them merely reveals that you missed that important line the main character just dropped.

This is an observation, not a complaint. I know it is my duty to figure out how I can improve my messaging further to make my points clearer. I promise to keep trying.

Can you hear the music?

What I noticed is that this happens mostly with people who certainly wouldn’t describe themselves as “lost”. They are usually busy professionals on a mission, startup founders, story tellers, successful individual contributors. They know what they are doing, and why they are doing it. They are not lost. They are on a path solving a problem, achieving a goal.

They haven’t gotten into a situation where they develop any kind of doubt about their purpose, asking any of the questions I am trying to answer here. If they don’t care about these questions, why would they be interested in the answers? And how would they be able to distinguish the side stories from the main plot?

Algebra’s like sheet music.
The important thing isn’t: Can you read music?
It’s: Can you hear it?
Can you hear the music, Robert?

And so we are limited to talking about notation. How inaccurate, confusing, and flawed it is. How it needs to be rearranged, transformed, and optimized. Or perhaps completely replaced with a different one.

Because the notation is what is visible right in front of them. It’s what is salient to them. It’s all they can see. They can’t hear the music.

But I talk about the music.

What do you hear?

We discussed a lot more yesterday. In fact, I haven’t even touched on the actual discussion yet. All this was just one small thing I took away from the round of introductions.

I’m sad it didn’t click for me during the event. So all I can do is to ask you here now and hope for you to take the time to respond:

• What is it that makes you feel lost?

• Why do so many people not appear to be lost?

• How can we diagnose and treat our condition?

Even if you couldn’t join the discussion yesterday, if this resonates with you, if you hear some music, please tell us what you hear and share your thoughts in the comments. Thank you!

And I will shortly let you know when the next discussion takes place — this time about Meaning-ful design.

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Mirror of the Self is a fortnightly newsletter series investigating the connection between creators and their creations, trying to understand the process of crafting beautiful objects, products, and art.

Using recent works of cognitive scientist John Vervaeke and design theorist Christopher Alexander, we embark on a journey to find out what enables us to create meaningful things that inspire awe and wonder in the people that know, use, and love them.

If you are new to this series, start here: On simplicity…

The previous series starts here: 01 • A secular definition of sacredness.
Overview and synopsis of articles 01-13: Previously… — A Recap.
Overview and synopsis of articles 14-26: Previously… — recap #2.

Also check out my presentation Finding Meaning in The Nature of Order.