I’m a part of some great communities here: my church, my (previous) co-workers at Adobe, and tech communities like BrooklynJS. And there’s always opportunities to discover new ones - most recently for me were groups like the ping pong crew at Bryant Park and the greater creator/startup scene in the city thanks to Patreon and Stripe.
People from all walks of life show up: those who work in the buildings around the park taking a lunch break, others that are homeless, visitors/tourists on vacation, or even locals (like me) who have lived here for years without realizing the tables were there. It was so cool to see and convinced me to check out the community a few times since then; I recognized a few of the same people in the documentary and even had the opportunity to play & chat with them. What that community helped me see was this idea that I could be a part of a long-standing group that doesn’t even have formal membership and yet is sustained. The fact that I could go to the same place and expect people to be there without contacting anyone ahead of time or planning anything out is so special. It’s like a hangout place (a cafe, someone’s place) with the same group of friends week after week, but with a shared understanding that someone will be there. A place where I don’t simply know of others, but I am inexplicably known by them.
I’ve noticed more and more, every month there’s a handful of times where I see old friends, people at meetups, coworkers on the subway or during a casual stroll outside. Like Devon, I’ve started to use my calendar to record the past.
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Experiencing serendipity in the physical world makes me wonder how it’s fostered in our digital lives.
Recently I asked for some help with Stripe support. I was surprised to get some amazing help but also the response: “It’s pretty cool to meet someone who helps maintain Babel! — I’m actually learning to be a web developer now, and I’m in awe of what you guys do.” Sometimes it’s as simple as the chance to meet (email) anyone in the world. View Highlight 2024-03-29
Fear of the City Despite all that, we constantly hear (even from myself) the audible sighs that remind me about the perils of living in the city: the loneliness, the performance anxiety, the impending doom. It’s almost as if we turn and use the city as an excuse for our issues and long for an escape away to greener pastures. The city itself loses respect and becomes our scapegoat. Instead of time healing all wounds, the grind hardens our hearts. We feel defeated by the environment. Being jaded is now the default. The openness to connect fades away. Our outward focus to relationship and to others folds in on itself. We become skeptical of the world and those around us.
“More is better” permeates the world. Everything is measured in utility, a specific from of purpose. It seeps into our sense of self, where to have more is to be whole.
— The “more” worth pursuing is understanding and connectedness, not mere accumulation. Stillness and silence are not the opposite of “more” — they are the conditions under which a different kind of abundance becomes visible.We tend to find ourselves keeping busy, which I’ve discovered to be a form of sloth. Laziness isn’t only a habit of not doing anything but an indifference to life, a spiritual condition of not caring.
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We need the space to allow ourselves to step back, where serendipity is fostered. As designers harness the power of space in user interfaces and art, we could take note to do the same in other areas. Notably with our time. Sanctifying Time
Our hearts are restless, until they can find rest in you. -Augustine Can we learn to see our time as not flat (not all the same), but meaningful, even sacred? That being productive isn’t about getting from A to B faster and “doing more” but experiencing more of what life gives us, of being fully alive? View Highlight 2024-03-29 Note: The case for designing ai-ux to foster serendipitous connections is strong — but the harder question is: to what end? If the purpose of stepping back is to encounter something unplanned, designing a system to produce that encounter may undermine the very quality that makes it meaningful.
We realize that we aren’t the captain of our souls and are humbled yet free. Serendipity, especially through the city, has shown me that life is all by grace, undeserved and yet somehow ours. I didn’t even know it was what I was looking for, until it found me.
