Engaged Spirituality & Mystic Activism

'Culture of Urgency' is an Empathy Killer

Most of us have heard it, probably more than once. And we've surely felt it, and been caught up in it at some point. Or perhaps we're still caught up.

I remember that, when I first became aware of the 'Culture of Urgency' that I'd been entranced by, I was consulting on several change-management communication projects, to several different large-sized organizations. One was a healthcare system; all had corporate or organizational cultures that emphasized, or perhaps idolized, 'urgency'.

As I conducted a wide variety of conversations with people throughout the organizations, it also became clear that the organizations of 'urgency' had something else in common: a culture with norms of rudeness, curtness, brusqueness, and high levels of stress and problematic communication.

We might also notice this in urban areas, in which a fast-paced culture seems inevitably paired with incidences of 'road rage', rudeness, disconnection, coldness, or observations such as people stepping over persons slumped against buildings, without a so much as a glance.

In San Francisco during the dot-com invasion, longer-term residents of the City noticed that, as the culture was permeated by people flocking in for the 'get rich quick' technology boom, those less-civil observances became more and more the norm. For example, San Francisco was awarded the distinction of having one of the highest levels of pedestrian injuries, because people were more routinely rolling through stop signs or red lights and hitting pedestrians.

These observations, as it turns out, are not unusual. Research by people such as Daniel Goleman, author of the book Emotional Intelligence, indicates a connection between empathy and compassion and our ability to be present enough to choose them. The faster the pace, the more distracted or in a hurry we are, the less we choose our innate capacity to empathize or be compassionate.

Perhaps this is why civilizations, as they became more industrialized, urbanized, automated, and high-tech, may also seem to be, upon study, more brutal or less compassionate. It would be interesting to delve further, but from the information available, it's at the very least a fair question.

Goleman, in a TED talk, emphasizes that all individuals have the capacity for empathy and compassionate. We are innately 'wired' or created to connect with and empathize, and from that sense of connection and empathy choose a compassionate, altruistic action or response. When we do things that help us to slow down, center ourselves, be more present, pay closer attention, we are more likely to act from this innate capacity for connection, empathy, compassion, and loving kindness.

Spiritual traditions have historically emphasized practices such as contemplation, presence, attention, prayer, and meditation. There are some philosophical traditions that have emphasized the same, though in a non-spiritual context.

Each of those helps us to disengage from our culture-induced (and well-ingrained and reinforced) addiction to urgency, to speed, and perhaps the adrenalin addiction that accompanies with it. Practices that help us to slow down also help us to detox, and by doing so, re-engage with our innately 'Divine' qualities, or, as Abraham Lincoln put it, the better angels of our nature.

Given the current state of things, where the costs of our speed addictions and cultural idolatry of 'urgency' are horribly evident, what used to be 'a luxury' or 'a waste of time' -- through the lens of our addiction to urgency -- has now become essential not only to the better angels of our nature, but to the wellbeing of Mother Earth, Gaia, and all of us who are supported by it.

Giving our attention to those practices and ways of being that help us to slow down, and approach our 'doings' in this way, is a great way to allot our energy, time, and attention.

So don't just do something, sit there. Go slowly, and notice.

To listen in and watch Daniel Goleman's TED talk, follow the link.

Blessings,
Jamie

Making Silk Purses From Sow's Ears

Earlier this week, one of my anam cara (soul friends) and I were enjoying a telephone catch-up, as we often do, and Carmina said, "Well, Jamie, if anyone can make a silk purse from a sow's ear, it's you." We both had a good laugh over that one.

I appreciated the good-humored reminder, though, that it's a practice -- a form of 'engaged spirituality', perhaps -- to look for the silk purse in the sow's ear, or to be open to the alchemy that transforms something that is seemingly tough or undesirable into something fine, meaningful, and rewarding.

As the proverbial wisdom goes, we don't always (or even often) have a choice in some of the circumstances and events that come into our experience, but we can choose what we ultimately make of them.

Wishing you a magical day of finding silk purses.

With Joy,
Jamie

p.s. - For those of you who enjoyed knowing the derivation of such sayings -- like 'making a silk purse from a sow's ear' -- the phrase 'sow's ear' derived from the French word, sousier, which meant 'purse', and for peasants, a sousier would be made of rough, humble cloth, made with what was available to serve a practical purpose. Combining (or finding) beauty in something 'practical' is a worthy art!

Everyday perspective shifters

Sometime last year, as I was walking in my neighborhood here in San Francisco, a crowded tour bus passed by on its way to Land's End, where the City meets the Pacific Ocean. San Francisco is a popular tourist destination, so the sight of tour buses is a common one. What was less common about this particular 'sighting' was the thought that occurred to me as it passed.

I stood to cross the street, and the individual men and women on the tour bus were clearly visible through the windows. I was suddenly reminded of similar buses that carry people through safaris or animal theme parks, with those on the buses observing (from a safe distance) the native animal populations in their natural environments. And here I and my neighbors were, 'native species' being observed going about our business in our natural environment, just like other animals in 'safari zones'!

I could almost hear the conversations on the bus. "Oh, look at its coat! What's it eating? What do they do, these San Franciscans?"

It was both a humbling and a hilarious thought, and I still smile when the tour buses pass by. But it's also a reminder that observation from 'safe distances' is very different from experiencing a place by being on one's feet, immersed it in, so that you can really get the energy, feel, sounds and smells of a place -- so that you can marinate in and be transformed a bit by the newness.

So much of what we do in our culture is 'observe from a distance,' live vicariously through something or someone else, or close ourselves off from real interaction and experience, so that we are, as Earl Shorris has written, "a nation of lonely molecules." And yet we yearn for connection; we yearn to transcend or move through the fears of diving in and swimming in the great sea of place, space, experience, and relationships.

Some do, and some don the earbuds or head phones, or anesthetize with the television and other delivery vehicles for the mass hallucination -- what Indigenous cultures call 'the dream of the North.' But awaken we must, and we will, individually and collectively, as the old dream falls to pieces and a new dream awaits our creation.

Perhaps then, in the new dream, with the hypnotic spell of separation broken, we'll pass by the bus, and experience the places along the way on foot, with hearts open. The nation of lonely molecules realized that it is One.

Until later...
Jamie