Time Spent is a series of letters exploring how and why we should read the news, do care work and spend our time. Each letter includes tidbits from research, tips and experiments that are all part of a book I’m working on called Taking Back the News. If you’re new, subscribe here!
In this letter:
💌 How I’m setting aside time to process 2021, because you can never start too early! Steps: 1) Taking time to empty it all out. 2) Thinking about what to iterate on moving forward.
References:
Letter: Recording 2020 in your own way (Time Spent)
Thing: National Novel Writing Month
Letter: Bodies & Information (Time Spent)
APA Definition: dichotomous thinking
Organization/Podcast: Braver Angels
People: science journalist Ed Yong, sociologist Zeynep Tufekci and economist Emily Oster
The Atlantic: Six Rules That Will Define Our Second Pandemic Winter
Discover Magazine: What does it mean to be a science writer amidst the pandemic?
Farnam Street Blog: Feynman Learning Technique
Good morning,
I saw this tweet on Monday and it has been on my mind ever since:
I appreciated seeing it at the beginning of November because I have been feeling that I need to start my year-end processing earlier than usual this time around.
So I’m using today’s letter to articulate to myself what that actually looks like.
Last December, after what felt like the heaviest year of all time, I wrote about recording 2020 in your own way, based on my takeaways from a conversation between Cheryl Strayed and George Saunders. A year later, I’d state them as follows:
Keep your own records, it matters.
Reality is complex, find a way to hold that complexity.
This year, I did a pretty good job keeping my own records. But I want to consider the complexity piece more carefully.
First, the basics: What is processing to you?
How do you define processing time for yourself? I see it in two parts.
Time to unload, digest, reframe and relax. In other words, create space for giving and receiving better.
Time for iteration: What are the takeaways? What do I need help with? What can I do differently going forward?
For part 1, here are some practical priorities for the next two months that I’m making time for:
Dialogue. Which is not the same thing is “catching up” or '“chatting.” Few things are as refreshing as a conversation that spans many aspects of life, in which you feel fully heard and seen and also help someone else feel fully heard and seen. If this means clearing time on your schedule, or safely traveling to someone you can dialogue with in this way, I think it’s important to start thinking about now.
Free Writing. November is National Novel Writing Month, and while I’m not writing a novel, what’s lovely about it is the sheer volume of people committed to hitting daily word counts that you can buddy up with. I joined a discord and decided I want to do a set # of sprints (15-20 minutes per session) of just plain writing, and so far this week, I found myself having written nearly 2000 words about death, which I didn’t even realize was on my mind.
Movement. I’m no expert on this, but I do know my body carries the load of my reactions to the world, so whatever I can do to process them out, I’m doing. Here’s a related book I'm pretty sure I mentioned last year that’s an excellent take on burnout and our bodies.
Second, the iteration: Finding ways to hold complexity
In 2020, it felt like humans were being given a great big test in managing uncertainty. The questions I saw floating around everywhere:
What is happening?
Are we safe yet?
Is this really happening?
When will it end?
By 2021, that test evolved into complexity:
What is happening?
» Wait, which version of reality are you talking about?
Are we safe yet?
» Wait, who is “we”?
Is this really happening?
» Are you shocked that it’s happening or shocked that we’re talking about it?
When will it end?
» It depends on what you mean by “end,” what’s your vision for what’s next?
To learn how to hold complexity is personal. For me, it began simply by becoming aware of my own dichotomous thinking in daily life, which the APA defines as the tendency to think in terms of polar opposites, without accepting the possibilities that lie between these two extremes.
(FYI: Braver Angels tackles this through their workshops and podcast in terms of political polarization.)
I try to remind myself constantly that multiple things can be true at the same time. Someone’s behavior can be upsetting and they can be deserving of respect. I can be so tired of the pandemic and curious/excited about the ways in which the world can change.
But at scale, while we have access to more information than ever, it seems like we’re less comfortable with ambiguity and complexity than ever.
Examples of this include:
forming opinions too quickly (and feeling like you have to have an opinion on everything)
defaulting to judgment (of ourselves, of others) rather than curiosity
and avoiding reality (by various forms of numbing).
To date, my main strategy for dealing with uncertainty about current events has been to rely on trusted experts. For example, around the pandemic, those guides have been: science journalist Ed Yong, sociologist Zeynep Tufekci and economist Emily Oster.
Most of the time, having trusted experts in your media diet (or social circle) is enough.
But since we are thinking about iteration, I’ve found myself wondering on multiple occasions: how can I learn to think more like them?
Which brings me to a piece I bookmarked in September from Katherine Wu, Ed Yong and Sarah Zhang that has some clear instructions: Six Rules That Will Define Our Second Pandemic Winter.
Of the six principles they share about how they, science journalists at The Atlantic, are making sense of the pandemic, #4 and #5 gave me pause.
#4: As vaccination increases, a higher proportion of cases will appear in vaccinated people—and that’s what should happen
They write:
In July, after a COVID-19 outbreak in Provincetown, Massachusetts, a Washington Post headline noted that three-quarters of the people infected were vaccinated. Throughout the summer, many stories have reported similar figures, always with the same alarming undercurrent: If vaccines are working, how could vaccinated people make up such a large proportion of an outbreak?
The answer is simple: They can if they make up a large proportion of a population. Even though vaccinated people have much lower odds of getting sick than unvaccinated people, they’ll make up a sizable fraction of infections, hospitalizations, and deaths if there are more of them around.
After breaking down the numbers, they explain:
The denominator matters.
The denominators in these calculations also change, dragging the numerators higher along with them. As surges grow, so too will the number of infected people, which means the number of breakthrough infections will also grow. Even if the percentage of breakthroughs stays steady, though, vaccines will feel less effective if the pandemic is allowed to rage out of control, because …
#5: Rare events are common at scale
Since we’re talking about an infectious disease that spreads, they explain:
Many aspects of COVID-19’s mystique—the range of symptoms and affected organs, the possibility of persistent illness, reinfections—are common to other viral illnesses, but go unnoticed because most illnesses don’t sweep the world in a short span of time. Similarly, as this current post-vaccine surge continues, breakthrough infections will feel more common, newspapers will have more stories to run about them, and more people will know someone who had one.
Our reaction to such events must account for both the denominator and the numerator—both how relatively common they are and how much they cost each affected individual. And that assessment will change as the pandemic waxes and wanes, and as the virus itself continues to mutate.
I noted in my journal at the time:
This feels directly related to our ability to hold complexity. The issue with headlines is that none of the nuance of these very obvious points is captured. And if we don’t have the mental bandwidth to read the actual articles, then we are unable to do what is required of us as news consumers, which is to update the factual information we are receiving against the updated context we are also receiving.
Without getting too deep into the above, I think it’s a good example of the type of thinking I wish I practiced more. As I process what I’ve understood and not understood about the past year, I realize how much of the choices I make are influenced by who surrounds me (or shows up in my information diet).
Put simply, if your professional/social circles aren’t spaces where someone is going to meet your, “Did you hear X?!” with “Yes, but consider it according to Y,” then there’s no incentive to improve the critical thinking skills needed to navigate information well. But it’s still something we can try to do.
This is a long-winded way of saying: whoever’s brain you admire, whoever you trust as a resource or explainer, their skills are learnable.
Prior to the pandemic, I hardly consumed any science journalism. But because I appreciate the writers who have helped me make it through the last two years, I want to get a better grasp on it. I anticipate it is perfect fodder for managing complexity (and tbh partly why I’ve never found it very easy or fun to read).
For that reason, I’m very excited to read The Best American Science and Nature Writing in 2021, which Ed Yong compiled together with Jamie Green.
If your processing leads to information related goals, like mine did, another place to start is by trying to identifying gaps in your own knowledge by, for example, using the Feynman Learning Technique as described here:
Pretend to teach a concept you want to learn about to a student in the sixth grade.
Identify gaps in your explanation. Go back to the source material to better understand it.
Organize and simplify.
Transmit (optional).
I’m not saying we all have to consume tons of science journalism or fill gaps in our knowledge—maybe you have something else you want to address toward next year, based on how you’re feeling about this one? Maybe it’s health, happiness, or fun related?
Whatever it is, I’m wishing you well as you find space to process and reflect :)
Jihii
#39: rare events are common at scale
Thank you for this. I've been thinking along the same lines, especially about holding complexity and keeping my judgmental impulses just far enough to allow for new information to register and percolate. I'll check out all the links too. A rainy day is coming and with it, some extra reading time.