the weight of wanting

John Donne said no man is an island, every man is a part of the continent and I love that poem but most days I feel less part of a continent and more pebble on the sand.

I watched a video clip this morning where a counselor said it’s rare he can sit across from someone and have them clearly articulate what they want.

He said it doesn’t matter if it’s a single mom with three kids just trying to figure out what day it is or a multimillionaire who has resources he can’t even comprehend, people can’t clearly articulate what they want.

So, he said, they answer the question but fill their answer with addictions and hobbies and dopamine chasing but they can’t clearly answer — what do you want?

He said it’s because we don’t have a culture of a shared vision for all of us, we have a culture of I’m hurting and it’s someone else’s fault so let’s point fingers.

Then I went to Medium to check comments and someone was mad at me, which isn’t new. I’d written a post with twelve images and asked readers if they could tell which are AI and which are human. Most readers guessed and shared their results and some people did amazingly well and others totally failed and it was kind of fun, you know?

But this person was annoyed that I wrote it. Because who cares if it’s AI, her friend makes wonderful AI art and people “like me” can’t see that it’s just another tool.

A culture of let’s point fingers, indeed.

Here’s what I’d like to tell her but I probably won’t.

AI is only a “tool” if you think the end result is the point of art.

A real artist holds something in their hand and moves their hand to make art. Doesn’t matter if it’s a paintbrush, pencil or stick of charcoal, whether it’s on paper or canvas. Doesn’t matter if it’s a mouse or stylus if they’re making digital art. People who make art move their hands. People making AI art type words to describe an end result.

Then AI dips into all the art scraped off the internet, made by real artists who held a tool in their hand. And it composites something to match the words they typed.

But that would be me pointing fingers at her friend and I’m not interested.

Some days, what I want is a world that’s a little kinder.

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There’s a homeless man in my neighborhood. His name is Lyle. And I know because one day I walked to the mall with him because I am the sort of person that will walk with an old homeless guy instead of calling the cops to tell him to move along.

It was a nice summer day so I thought I’d have a walk to Starbucks for an iced coffee and this shambling old man called out hey, do you need a husband? and I laughed.

He told me he owned a house a couple blocks over but he lost his job and his age made it hard to get a new one fast enough so the bank took the house and his wife filed for divorce and now he’s dumpster diving for bottles to buy something to eat and he carries the money in his hand so they don’t kick him out of the store and I stopped walking and just looked him in the eyes and I told him I’m so sorry.

Most days what I want is a world that’s a little kinder to the pebbles on the sand.

I asked him if he’d like me to buy him lunch and he said no, ma’am, but thank you. Men take care of women not the other way around and he said his pride is all he’s got left now, but thank you so I walked to the river and sat by the water and cried.

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The counselor in the video clip has another where he says the hard part of life is navigating the space between what we wanted and what we got.

And I think that space is maybe why we can’t articulate what we want.

Here’s what I kind of want to to tell him.

I think we do know what we want, even if we can’t or don’t say it.

I think we all want the same things.

I think we want a roof over our head and food in our belly. I think we all want to feel safe and secure and not have to worry that’s we’ll lose it all on a roll of the dice or someone’s decision to end our job as a cost cutting measure or AI can do it.

I think we all want to spend our time doing something that feels meaningful and worthwhile, whatever that means to us.

I think we all want someone to see us, to see who we are as human beings, and care about us without judging us or trying to change us. Just. Really, truly, care.

I think one good and true friend can save a life.

I think we all want to feel like our life mattered and what that looks like varies because we aren’t cut from a mold. Maybe we want to write a book, or feed the hungry, or just work a decent job that lets us provide for our family.

I think we all want to leave something behind to say we were here whether it’s a book or a legacy or a child. Something that says I was here and I mattered.

But my god, the hard part of that? Is the weight of wanting.

Between the wish and the thing the world lies waiting.
― Cormac McCarthy, All the Pretty Horses