The promise of technology is to make things easier. Humans learn the most through hard things: suffering, hard work, mistakes.
We're in a paradox already.
In college, I somehow made it onto the snareline in marching band my Freshman year.
Throughout high school, I had dedicated my precious hours before and after school to percussion. Perfecting technique, practicing solos and parts, watching and listening to ensembles and marching bands and DCI (Drum Corps International).
It was an incredible moment to hear my name called after try-outs: "Jess Brown: Snare."
I was so out of my league. Even with all of the practice and all of my time, passion, and energy, I really wasn't as good as the other musicians there. I had to work twice as hard to keep up with people who could magically sight-read complex rhythm patterns.
Sight-reading has always been my Kryptonite. I've practiced it for years and years, and it just doesn't come for me. I have to memorize my parts. Blast through everything over and over and over again. At one, mortifying moment, my esteemed, decorated Percussion professor had me in for a private lesson and discovered this weakness. He told me, "You were a snare—I thought you were good."
That was the end of my pursuit of music in college. Even though I had proven myself at every performance, every concert, every band practice, every football game, the one chink in my armor—inability to sight-read—meant I was a failure.
I only had that one year of music in college. It was so important to me, and I failed.
Why Do Hard Things?
Last week, I happened upon a video about Drum Corps and how intense it is. Even though I never had a true Drum Corps experience, marching band in college had a similar feel to it. This video brought back all of the emotions, the satisfaction, the feeling of victory when you play well together.
That Freshman year was so fundamental to my growth as a young adult, even with the bitterness of utter failure seeping into my memories.
I didn't have to pursue music—I had already declared my major as Fine Arts: Graphic Design. And yes, I did get a scholarship to be on the marching band, but that wasn't even a part of my motivation (though certainly a perk).
I pursue music because it moves me.
It is the hardest thing I've ever learned. I was used to book-learning and that came easy for me. Nothing about music comes easy for me. It is a brutal, unrelenting, painful thing and I just can't get enough.
Sometimes it's the hard things that make us feel the most satisfied. Sometimes it's the hard things that help us make the most progress.
It's trite, and cliche, I know. But the wisdom that created these platitudes is still wisdom despite the platitudes.
Choices
With technology removing so many of the stumbling blocks to do things like gain access to education and entertainment, make money or take payments, create content and consume it; we have an increased responsibility to make choices.
The world I grew up in (pre-smart phone) demanded less of my attention. I was able to follow the structure of school and chores, but outside of that, I could just choose to do things I wanted to do, even if my pool of choices was somewhat limited.
Ironically, the post-smart phone era introduced more choices, but my ability to choose was hampered by all of the attention-hacking.
I don't think we have the luxury anymore of choosing not choose. I don't sit around bored like I used to. If I have time available, then I better be using it for XYZ projects or playing a video game or watching YouTube.
The ease of access to things through technology has made it harder to do hard things. It can remove momentum or friction—both of which we need to pursue hard things.
Back to the video about Drum Corps (timestamp: 14:50), a young man said something that caught me by surprise.
"I think it's a life lesson of learning discipline, actual life lessons, and just how to be a human in a world full of, like, screens and chillin', and wanting everything—almost like a microwave...
"I learned how to be more financially responsible, just so I could save up to do this activity. So I think this is a really good slap in the face of what humans are actually capable of if they...just decide. It's the definition of going after what you want; ...Drum Corps at its finest to me."
So, dear Cyborg, what can you do to re-engage with your humanity? What might help you explore your potential?
Nuance
As a final note, I don't want this to be a guilt-driven message. We all still do hard things despite our technology—life is hard, full stop.
Multiple Sclerosis is my un-chosen hard thing. I have to deal with this chronic illness regardless of technology or privilege, just like you all have at least one thing that is utterly terrible and difficult.
It's not just "hard for hard's sake," it's not, "push through," it's not, "you can sleep when you're dead."
Hard doesn't mean destructive.
It's finding something outside your normal that will inspire and teach you, even as you endure it.
For me, I've been trying to play more with my exercise time. I want to inject creativity into the daily grind of mandatory activity to keep my MS at bay (as much as that's possible).
As that becomes easier, maybe it's time to get back to the drums—I guess we'll see!
What will it be for you?