Tunnels and Messages

“Never in the history of humankind have we had so many means of communication, yet we remain islands.”

-Tich Nhat Hanh

When I was a kid, my family took a trip to Colorado.  I remember my mom and grandma wanted to hike up a mountain in search of what their guidebook touted as a rustic “ghost town” at the end of the trail.  It sounded cool enough, but I wasn’t yet appreciative of hiking as a pastime, and about halfway up the trail, I got tired.  But of course, as a child, hiking is not the sort of activity you can just back out of half-way.  If everyone else in your party wants to keep going, you must also.  So, on we trudged.  In my mind, I pictured the remnants of a town straight out of the gold rush era—tumbleweed rolling across the street (the only street in town) from the double swinging doors of a saloon to the dusty deck of…another saloon?  I don’t know, what else is there?  No Taco Bells, no Walmarts.  Maybe a quaint little general store filled with burlap bags of flour, corn, sugar.  Some chickens.  Just hanging out.  A different world all together.

Anyway, as interesting as my saloon-infested imagination made it seem, I did not enjoy the climb.  And if memory serves, it was much longer than expected.  When we finally got to the top, there it was.  A cabin.  Juuuuust a cabin.  Couldn’t go inside, didn’t really have any decoration or standout design features to speak of.  I was upset.  But moreover, I was concerned.  Concerned for all the other people who’d been duped by the guidebooks and were being drug along against their will by their mothers up and up and up this never-ending trail to see a ghost cabin.  They needed to know the truth.  I walked over to the ledge overlooking the valley and winding trail.  I cupped my hands around my mouth, took a deep breath and yelled down as loud as I could, “IT’S NOT.  WORTH IT.”

The story is still a crowd pleaser in my family today.  And I know this sounds overly dark, but I kind of hold it as a real moment of truth between myself and the universe.  Of course, context is important to the message, but it was definitely one I felt comfortable delivering.  As someone who is considerably preoccupied with communication- what it does, what it means, how/why it evolved, and how best to use it- the idea of a message is something very specific for me.  Very important.  Over the years, this particular message has changed, but mostly because I realized that if I wanted people to listen, I had to cheer it up a bit.

Recently, I heard of an art installation in the Park Avenue tunnel.  Apparently for three weekends in a row, the tunnel would be shut down to accommodate only foot traffic, and participants would be able to walk in and deliver a message into a microphone.  The message would then reverberate up and down the tunnel walls, accompanied by a light display.  Sounds cool right?   I made plans with my friend Mary some time ago to go and see it the last weekend it was up.  Of course, deciding on a good message was essential.  Although, “it’s not worth it!” was the first thing to come to mind, I didn’t think it would have quite the same implications as it had on the mountain top.  I didn’t want to offend anyone; I’m sure the tunnel artists worked very hard on their installation.  “It’s not worth it” would easily be misconstrued as a judgment on the work.

I put a lot of pressure on myself to get the message just right, both in purpose and in content.  (Mind you- I procrastinated in deciding until the subway ride into the city that morning….but it was a very focused commute.)  I think there are three main components of a quality message.  It should be 1) true 2) relatable and 3) productive.  At that particular time, the best I could conjure up was the following:

Sadness is an observation which has become habit.  Happiness is a process.

That is what I wanted people in that tunnel to know.  In a lot of ways it was a message to myself, something I’d like to internalize as much as I’d like to impress upon others.  It might, just ‘cause, be a fun exercise to stop reading and take a moment to come up with what one message you’d like to deliver to a bunch of people in a dark and narrow space.  Assuming anyone was listening…

The subway was being dumb that day, I emerged 15 minutes late into sunlight and hoards of people, an inordinate amount of them on bicycles.  There were so many people that although I knew the corner Mary was standing on and the color of the shirt she was wearing, I couldn’t find her.  When we were finally united, she informed me the tunnel had closed due to the large volume of people.  It was the last day of the installation, there would be no seeing it now.  We were disappointed, but it was a nice sunny day, and we had a good long talkwalk down Park Avenue, which had also been closed off to vehicles for the day.  I told her how important it was that I got my message just right.  I related my story of the mountain.
“What would you have said in the tunnel?” I asked.

“Hi.”

Occasionally, Mary bowls me over with her brilliance.  She’s a deep-thinking computer programmer who just seems to have a knack for coming up with really elegant, concise solutions, this being no exception.  Here I was, thinking that a message could only be productive by being informative.  Here I was thinking that education should come from me—seeking to relate to people by enveloping them in my own experience, what I learned.  Here I am doing it right now.  Look at this!  Here I was, thinking “true” meant “already learned”.

And in a word, she blew the lid off of how I view communication and shown a light on my own methods and priorities that I hadn’t even noticed in myself because I thought everyone did it that way.  It’s not to say any one message is more valuable than another, but it is a completely different way of defining all 3 of the aforementioned requisites for a quality message.  For starters, “Hi” is not didactic, it’s open-ended.  And in this way, it dances with truth.  Truth is also open-ended, open to interpretation, subject to change.  We get ourselves into a lot of trouble—I am thinking specifically of the justice system now—by assuming that truth is truth and exists as a constant.  To our own detriment, we ignore the relativity of truth.  But the truth is, reality is filled with complexity and even chaos.  To find out what is true, you have to acknowledge your position as an observer and listen very closely, remaining open.  Also, “Hi” is kind and engaging.  And in this way, relatable.  Sure, it could be the start of a dialog steeped in deception, but every conversation starts with some form of “hi”.  And even superficially, “hi” represents an initial extension of kindness.  And lastly, because of this engagement, “hi” hints at collaboration—making it productive.  When you start a conversation with someone, you’re bound to learn something, even if it isn’t what you’re discussing directly.  “Hi” is probably not a bad way to start a conversation with the universe.  But of course, the door for self-expression is wide open, whether it be a literal message in words or simply what is conveyed through your actions.  Whether you approve it or not, there is a message in how you live your life.

Well?  What do you have to say for yourself?

 
*Disclaimer:  Next week might be a late night Monday post.  I will be in the desert and unreachable until that time.  Stay tuned….