On connectedness and being human
As my senior seminar project (a culminating degree requirement at St. Mary’s College of Maryland), I had to create my very own theory in the field of Psychology (my undergraduate major).
The world already had Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs and Erickson’s Stages of Psychosocial Development, Freud’s Theory of Personality, and Piaget’s Theory of Cognitive Development. What was MY theory? That is what the assignment, and my professor and advisor, Dr. Roy Hopkins asked of me and my classmates.
The thoughtfully simple-yet-robust capstone requirement invited each student to zoom out on their nearly 4 years of learning and experience at the college, and to string together a cohesive narrative of that multi-faceted growth journey, then granularize it into an original perspective, worthy of its own place in a future psychology textbook.
Easy-peasy, right? It felt daunting, and yet, I knew what I believed more than ever after my experiences of those 4 transformative years: Connectedness is key.
Hence was born the Willing Theory of Connectedness.
This theory was not so much prescience of the digitally-connected world as we know it today, but rather a simple set of beliefs about the inherent power of seeing connections across seemingly different notions or ideas. The ability to make cause-and-effect connections allows us to understand how the world fits together, and helps us quickly improve a process or skill. Connecting with other humans in ways that are meaningful creates a sense of community and solidarity, both of which are critical to the survival of our species. There were a half dozen or so examples that argued connectedness of all sorts is adaptive and important in more ways than most gave credit.
I remember a defining life moment in my Biology 101 class during freshman year where I realized that the laws of the natural world show up over and over again across many domains outside of science. That cross-domain connection opened up a new way for me to understand the world.
It was 1993, and the world was not connected the way it is today. In fact, my 30-page double-spaced final senior paper was laboriously created by examining several dozen of my own saved spiral notebooks across 8 semesters of varied academic subjects, scrawled to the margins with a-has, ideas, and key learnings that felt important in the moments I first received them.
It was researched using card catalogs and heavy academic journals that sometimes had to be ordered from other colleges or universities because to include the ideas and theories of others on which my own unique theory was being built, I had to see the words with my own eyes, read them in their complete context, and not rely on microfiche extracts or other authors’ references to the original work.
It was then constructed methodically on index cards filled with references supporting my thesis and their seemingly relevant sub-points, more spiral notebooks, and long weekends and evenings at the college library across 100+ hours over twelve or so weeks.
The world was not connected at all when compared with today. The Internet had yet to emerge for the everyday citizen, and roughly only half of my fellow classmates had their own personal (clunky, immobile desktop) computer, which was essentially a word-processor for most intents and purposes unless you were into coding and gaming.
My senior paper was made digital in the campus computer lab, with notebooks and index cards stacked beside me, then saved to a floppy disk, and the final version ultimately printed in 12-point courier font on the lab’s dot matrix printer for 3 cents per page, charged to my student account.
I was on the cusp of 22. I knew almost nothing and yet, I was dead certain about this: Connectedness is an adaptive force that can be used for good and evolution, or for evil and destruction.
Over the years, I have thought a lot about that project and of that Theory of Connectedness. I think about the ways we are “connected” today, and how disconnected we seem to be as humans in 2021 — Not only from each other, but quite often from ourselves.
Instead, we are deeply tethered to devices and clouds — beeps, buzzes, rings, tones, banners, and badges, lighting up tiny ancient sections of our grey matter in ways we both barely notice and crave like illicit drugs. Sometimes, we go on a bender and get lost inside our screens, forgetting about our physical world, our bodies that want to move, our eyes that want to see father than 12 inches in front of us. We are delighted and mesmerized by these digital blips and prompts for our attention, believing they somehow signify that we are needed, or noticed, or seen.
It’s a thing to ponder (a thing only humans can do). How might we strike the balance between managing the digital connectedness powering the information age and our modern society with valuing, respecting, and making space for being human, and being truly, authentically, energetically-connected to other humans?
Moreover, how might we do that safely as we struggle to move through a seemingly never-ending global pandemic?
I sure don’t know the answers, but I do look forward to the day when we can reconnect face-to-face, maskless, unafraid to hug and be hugged, to dance, to sing, to picnic, to bonfire, to concert, to festival, to human . . . together.
It can’t come soon enough.
