It’s wrapped. A gift. What if you want to change your mind?
The question is similar to what I asked a few weeks ago. But instead of questioning inheritances, or unconscious biases, what if you second-guess your own good-faith decisions?
In my life, I’ve accepted a new role, I’ll be joining the Tech Policy Lab at UW in January as a program manager to spearhead a university-wide effort to connect and elevate social and cultural approaches to technology. From generative AI to bioethics. It’s a massive honor and I’m eager to train my focus on matters I care deeply about, matters that matter to the broader public, by elevating cross-disciplinary researchers doing this work. When I visualize my new role, I see a familiar brown paper package wrapped with string (forgive the cliché cultural reference). There’s so much to look forward to! But I also experience feelings of self-doubt. Though I try and reassure myself, what beginning isn’t accompanied by late-night worry?
Meanwhile, a wrapped gift, for the children, also has me biting my lip. Santa brought chocolates, pens, books, and analog clocks. We got them smartwatches (!!). To text or call specific contacts. To check the time. To set alarms. We don’t have a landline, so finally, with this smartwatch, they can be left home alone while we run to the store or go for a walk. We can call them if we’re late. This feels useful.
But also, excessive. The expense. The status signaling. The surveillance. I feel upset. Is this their inauguration to the digital world, governed by algorithms and avatars? Again, I sigh, what beginning isn’t accompanied by late-night worry?
When I find myself questioning a decision I’ve made in good faith, I ask: are my worries about something within my sphere of control? If not, I try to let them go. If so, I tell myself, I’ve decided in good faith. And I can accept that and prepare for a less-than-ideal outcome. Contingency plans help to assuage worry. Analog clocks.
Sometimes, I look elsewhere for answers. I am lucky to have conversations with mentors. I am lucky to have conversations with friends. And I’ve come to trust the superstitious part of me that believes in signs from the universe. I can read these signs to make sense of my uncertainties. I use different techniques to interpret. Sometimes without realizing what I’m asking.
For instance, I searched databases and internet engines. I wanted think pieces. I wanted peer-reviewed articles. I wanted to inhale everything. Does searching hijack my imagination? Probably. Do I care? Sort of. It’s no secret that the oracle of Google is fraught. Promising everything, delivering one particular way of knowing. I do aim to be mindful of the roads I travel. Does knowing my imagination is influenced by what I encounter stop me from gorging on the books and databases available to me? Well, not exactly.
Google surfaced a 2022 Parents magazine article that quoted communication scholar Meryl Alper, whom I know and respect, describing the benefits of smartwatches for safe connection with children across distances. I know consumer magazines are oriented to service. I want to be served. I’m grateful for the freelance writer, Chaunie Brusie, for her research.
Seeing Alper’s name reminded me of the important work of media studies scholars in calming moral panic. Old media was once new. We’ve been here before. I feel calmer. I remember the thoughtful work my students did this quarter. I realized that observing how my children encounter the world has helped me be a better educator. I feel reassured. I set up the parental controls.
To prepare for my new job, and a new year, I looked to an older oracle for guidance. One that can seem overdetermined, or ridiculous. I pulled a tarot card.
When I pull cards, I’ve developed an idiosyncratic method, based on mystics I’ve met (though I haven’t met many. I’ve had astrology/tarot consultations with Jessica Dore, Jen Zahrt, PhD, and a beautiful person I met at a yoga studio in Greenwood once, but I misplaced their card) and reading.
What do you need to know that you’re not realizing? I asked. Shuffle the deck seven times. Break three, like a spell.
I pull Two of Wands. According to Barbara Walker, who created the deck I use, the Two of Wands references a soul mirror. Looking into your reflection is said to reveal your soul. This can feel scary. That is why, for instance, breaking a mirror is bad luck. In a moment of alliance, the Sun God looks to their lunar twin, the Moon Goddess, and they find balance. “The card shows a meeting of powers at the interface, synergy, association, responsiveness, partnership,” Walker writes. Read as a signal for what to remember, and what to work toward, the card is an invitation, when the gift is wrapped, unwrap with care.
Recommendations
I don’t have a gift guide. I don’t have a summary of my yearly accomplishments. I am hesitant to make entreats for money, though I am grateful for those who have chosen to subscribe or offer the equivalent of a coffee or tip. I have had a cold this winter, so I’ve been slower. People I love around me are ill. Healing. There’s always dishes and laundry and cooking and cleaning.
I’m slow in preparing an external presentation on the impact of research I collaboratively did with Art+Feminism.
I’m completely engrossed in Doppelganger by Naomi Klein.
I enjoy a few Substack newsletters. I subscribe to Martha’s Bell, Whistle, especially for her posts about ballet. The Elif Life by Elif Batuman, especially if you like literature and meandering, reflective sentences. Sara Murphy’s newsletter on analyzing literature and funny humor. Jessica Dore’s words for more spiritual, esoteric writing, rooted in inquiries to divinity and psychology. And Escaping Flatland by Henrik Karlsson, which I’m not sure how I stumbled upon, but he’s a beautiful writer. There are more.
I’m distressed about Substack’s Nazi problem in The Atlantic. Let’s care for each other. I’ll echo Martha Bayne’s reply, I want “the people (men) who run Substack” to “provide a reasonable response to this reasonable request to stop platforming Nazis.”
Come 2024, my intention is to shift the focus of The Gift to deliver more specific sets of ideas to my readers. To continue to use this important channel to stay in touch. I haven’t been logging in to Facebook as often, or Instagram. I plan to continue to focus my attention on thinking longer thoughts. To write essays more monthly, with some shorter pieces in-between.
At this dark time of year (in the northern hemisphere), with holiday lights and cookies to brighten and sweeten the times, I wish you, my dear readers, renewal, care, and hope with the turn of the calendar’s page. Please stay in touch.
Thank you for reading The Gift.
Until next time,
Monika
The Gift
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