the nomad diary

In late 2004, a handful of elite kids decided to try something out for the first time.  By early 2005, a couple million more had joined them.  In the beginning, prior to the spark, nobody was on it.  Nobody.  It crept in quietly, ghost-like, as all great addictions do.  By the time we recognized it for what it was, it was far too late, and we couldn’t have cared less.  Most everyone who did it, loved it; because they wanted to, because really they didn’t have much choice.

Regular kids turned junkies at the drop of a dime.  Worried/confused parents began to appear in the media.    What could we say to explain ourselves?  It made us feel accepted, one with a movement (and what generation doesn’t want that?), so we never questioned going full steam ahead.  We did it while eating breakfast, before, after, and during class, while watching TV, and for a few minutes before bed each night.  We did it when we were feeling bored, proud, lonely, or despondent.  It enhanced the positive and soothed the negative in a way that tailored to our demand for instant, easy gratification.  It was there when we wanted it, and it didn’t cost a thing.  We used it every day, multiple times a day, not as an integrated part of our daily routine, but an ever-present opportunity to break away into another world.

It was easy, interactive, and escapist.  We revered and appreciated it for being all of these things at once.  The point was to see, though to be sure, being seen was really at the heart of the matter; narcissism hidden by a thin veil of voyeurism.  It was intuitive, even familiar, but also completely novel.  It was simple, yet spectacularly complex.  It was the past, the present, and to a greater degree than we ever could have known, the future.

It was Facebook.

In the half-decade since its inception, Zuckerberg’s dorm room experiment, freed from the chains of exclusivity that marked the early years, has become a veritable empire.  As cheap addictions and social media innovations go, Facebook is king.  According to the Facebook.com statistics page, there are now 800 million users; half of these sign in no less than once per day.

In honor of conservative estimation, let’s assume each of these 400 billion people logs on for 10 minutes per day, although I would bet my belly button that the true number is closer to 20.  400 million people x 10 minutes daily= 4 billion minutes.   Divided by 60, 67 million hours.  Divided by 24, 2.8 million days.  Again, by 365, 7,610 years.

Take a moment to digest this fully.  Every single day, human beings collectively spend 7,610 years on Facebook.  In the coming year, no less than 2.8 million years of real human time will be spent updating statuses, poking, posting pictures, writing on walls, etc.  Don’t forget, these numbers are only including the 400 million who use Facebook on a daily basis.

And of course, it should be kept in mind that Facebook continues to grow at an absolutely stunning rate:

YEAR     # of users

2004     1 million

2005    5.5 million

2006     12 million

2007     50 million

2008     100 million

2009     350 million

2010     500 million

2011     800 million

2012    1 BILLION plus (projected)

Forgive my wanting tact, but you would have to be nearly brain-dead not to appreciate that these numbers are somehow of the utmost significance.  But how?  What exactly does it mean for  a website to consume 2.8 million years of human cognition in 365 days?

This amount of time is almost unfathomable for the human mind, but consider this- in 84 years Ben Franklin managed to found the first U.S. hospital, library, fire department, and police department, reach fluency in six languages, start the American Philosophical Society, own and operate several businesses, hold numerous public positions, found two universities, and lay claim to dozens of important inventions.  Though few among us can match the industry or prolific nature of Mr. Franklin, none can argue the power of a human hour put to good use.

If you are interested in losing faith in your species, or at the very least, gaining an understanding of just how un-Franlinlike we are, keep the aforementioned 2.8 million year figure in mind as you browse your Facebook news feed.  Once you have been sufficiently caught up on everything you have zero use in knowing, take a moment to reflect on the fact that what you have just seen is a cross-section of 2.8 million cognitive years spent, never to be returned.

If history has one lesson to teach, it is that we human beings have an exceptional ability to squander gifts of innovation.  It can come down to one of of two issues- misuse and overuse- though it usually comes down to both.   Automobiles, television, nuclear capability, antibiotics, genetic modification, factory farming, just to name a few, have each fallen victim to overuse and/or misuse in their own unique way.

That we spend such an astounding amount of time on Facebook is not an inherent dilemma; it is a matter of how this time is spent.

For the first time in history we have 800 million mouths united with 800 million pairs of ears under the same virtual roof.  What is being said?  What is being heard?

You don’t need me to tell you the answer to this, but I will anyway.  What we have now is a trend where a whole lot of intelligent, competent people are presenting themselves as being nothing more than a hoard of shallow, brainless, narcissists.  Admittedly, I generalize, but I think you know just what I mean.  Facebook could have been anything- it was a creation just waiting to be defined by us, the consumers.  What we did was use it as a vessel for championing a brand of self-absorption too uncouth even for the hyper-individualized American reality.  We saw not potential for the spread of great ideas, or the betterment of a generation, but an opportunity for shameless ego promotion.

What we now must answer is whether we are able and willing to break away from this.   If not, what does that say about our generation?  If so, how is it possible?

I shudder to answer the former, but as for the latter:  Revolution.

And what a lovely revolution it would be.  I can see it now.

There would be art, ideas, and intelligent discourse.  There would be writers writing, creators creating, and rebels rebelling where there were none before.  Brilliant ideas would spread like wildfire.

There would be people understanding that the luxury of an online identity is having the power to control the way in which we present ourselves, that though real life requires us to process and respond to information in real-time, Facebook gives us the gift of delay; contemplation preceding interaction.  There would be people seeing this moment for what it is, an opportunity to share what is best in us.

These most precarious times are no time for wasted cognition.  Tomorrow is less certain than ever, and only the hearts and minds of youth have what it takes to usher in an era that was better than the last.

The task before us is huge indeed, but 2.8 million years of effort should be a pretty decent start.

As a kid, I hated art class with every fiber of my being.  I dreaded going.  Everything I created- the paintings, pottery, sketches, sculptures, macaroni picture frames- came out looking like the work of a five year old.  When I was five years old, this wasn’t such a big deal, but it began to be a bit embarrassing as my 7th, 10th, and 13th birthdays came and went with little sign of improvement.  Time and again I disappointed myself with what I assumed to be an overarching artistic ineptitude.  Thankfully, my school wasn’t exactly chalked full of Leonardo Davincis, so mine was not a struggle of isolation.  In fact, the majority of my classmates had a difficult time in art class, so  it wasn’t the sort of deficiency that doomed one to the lonely life of a social leper.

However, while my dismal attempts at traditional artistic expression did not have any direct effect on my confidence or social standing, a subtle and dangerous precedent was being set.  Beginning at a very young age, I began to tell myself that I just didn’t have what it took to be artistic.  Some people were born with the talent, some weren’t.  I wasn’t, and that was something I would have to live with.

So it went, whenever I was confronted with a situation that challenged my creativity, I would immediately fall back on the all too familiar self-defeating mantra, “I am not a very artistic person”.  It was the perfect excuse, never once challenged.  I bought it, and so did everyone else, likely because they were telling themselves the exact same thing.

Perhaps this sounds familiar?

The only problem, was that it couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

I was so busy foscusing on my own limitations, I failed to ask a critical question.

What is art?

Google “art definition”, and this is what you will find-

“the products of human creativity”

“a superior skill that you can learn by study and practice and observation”

and my personal favorite

“the creation of beautiful or significant things”.

If I could go back in time and share one life lesson with my thirteen year old self, it would be this:  Art will never be confined by a set of culturally accepted mediums, tools, and standards.  Art exists anywhere someone takes it upon themselves to create it.  Traditionally, we look for it from the brush of a painter, the hands of a sculptor, the instrument of a musician, the pen of a poet, or the camera of a photographer, and it does indeed come from these places, but there is so much more to it than this.

Artists are everywhere.  You are an artist, and so am I.

Again, if we accept art to be “the creation of beautiful or significant things”, we begin to understand how very prevalent it is in our world.  Think back to the last time you used your creativity to do something for someone that had a profound impact on their lives.  This act was undoubtably significant for both of you, and was it not also a thing of beauty?  At that moment, whether or not you realized it, you were an artist of the highest grade.  Yours was the art of human interaction.  With your creativity as a brush, your kindess and compassion as paint, and a fellow human being as the canvas, you created something wonderful where it did not previously exist.

Just as we must free art from the narrow confines of its ancestrally defined scope, we must also acknowledge and accept a variation in the measurement of artistic output.  In other words, no matter how small or insignificant an attempt at beauty may seem, it is art just the same as the grandest of creative undertakings.  Opportunities to put your best qualities to use are everywhere; every moment of your life presents you with the opportunity to be an artist.

Stay present in every moment, never letting an opportunity to create something “beautiful or significant” pass you by.  Everything you do, do it with the consciousness, focus, and intent of an artist.  Place the words “the art of” in front of everything-

Don’t talk, become an expert in the art of conversation.

Don’t be a friend, engage in the art of friendship.

Don’t just go to class, practice the art of learning.

Don’t take trips, see the world through the eyes of a travel artist.

If you have kids, enrich their lives through the art of parenting.

Whatever you do, make it an art, and you will soon discover what you are truly capable of.  For thousands of years, people have turned to art as a source of inspiration and hope in their own lives.  Living as an artist is more than just creating beauty in your own day to day activities and interactions, it is the opportunity to improve the lives of everyone you meet.

Art is the result of  the creative and inspired application of our passions.  As such, recognizing the endless opportunities to create art ensures that we put forth our best qualities in all that we do.  Such a lifestyle requires constant effort and dedication, and is clearly not the path of least resistance.  Practicing the art of living is a much more involved and demanding process than simply living, but the effort will surely be rewarded tenfold.

In the end, the choice is simple.  We can choose to be artists, or we can choose not to be.  We can constantly strive to create beauty, empower, and inspire change, or we can hide our passion and creativity behind the inherently false, ”I’m not an artistic person” mantra.  It is no secret that we live in a world that favors those people who are dedicated to reaching their full potential.  Thankfully, we all have the freedom to follow this path

Choose to be a life artist, and everything you do becomes a brush stroke on the grand canvas of your existence.  Then, one day, when your time on this earth has expired, people will gaze upon your masterpiece and know that your’s was a life well spent, a life dedicated to “the creation of beautiful and significant things”.

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