Month: February 2022

The Age of Distraction

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Ava Sandler (she/her/hers), Low Entropy Volunteer Writer

 

In an age of increasing technological presence, quiet, meditative practices that require intellectual care are rapidly subsiding. Silent and solitary activities, such as reading and writing, are dismissed as mock pastimes, as people fail to consider them on equal terms with hobbies that offer physical stimulation and psychological strain.  The value of these quieter, more introverted contributions is diminishing as our society grows increasingly concerned with busyness and the conventional act of “doing something.” Our concept of productivity has evolved into an unhealthy machine that tires the mind and body. United by the power they wield, sports and screens satiate our desire for distraction and busyness. As our society embraces a newfound state of overstimulation, the meditative activities that once satisfied the minds of our population can no longer offer liberation. In an attempt to further society, our values have changed to encompass a narrow idea of productivity and advancement at the expense of creative expression.

 

Several years ago, as I was preparing to enter the International Baccalaureate program in high school, a close friend of mine casually asked if I would finally enroll in extracurricular activities. She clearly did not consider my writing, nor my reading, nor the pilates, barre and yoga classes I attended worthy of the title “extracurricular activities.” Worth, however, is not at the root of such an issue. My friend herself is an avid reader and writer to this day; she had merely absorbed, much like the rest of us, the societal belief that these hobbies cannot possibly be defined as extracurricular activities due to their silent, solitary and physically undemanding nature. Particularly in the cases of reading and writing, these activities are dismissed largely because of their non-performative nature. Our society no longer values intellectual focus or critical thinking unless it is loudly paraded — be it in the form of competitions or performances or sports — or a clear path to technological modernity. Their involvement with the mind has allowed muted forms of psychological stimulation to fade into oblivion.

 

Recently, as I sat writing this very piece, my mother and sister sat before me. On one couch was my mother, wrapped in a blanket, casually drinking a cup of tea, ensconced in a book of essays, her expression curious and at peace; my sister, on the other hand, was slumped on the other couch, lazily gazing at her phone. While both were absorbing information, the way in which their brains interacted with it, and the values of their interactions, differed: my mother was thinking, while my sister was merely consuming. Therein lies the difference: the book poses a challenge; the screen offers the answer. While screens and sports are wildly different forms of entertainment, they are united by the societal perception of productivity. The humanities, dying as both a profession and field of interest, are not only regarded as boring, but also useless and valueless in the larger scheme of things. As a society, we crave distraction and busyness, so we gravitate toward physical stimulation and unhealthy forms of psychological stimulation. It is because we underestimate the value of quiet, intellectual activities that we dismiss their importance and allow them to reside in obscurity and mockery. Thus we encourage team sports and, perhaps inadvertently, technological forms of entertainment, but we fail to place a similar emphasis on art forms that excite the mind. 

 

Recently, another close friend of mine remarked that for a long time she didn’t think I actually did many things outside of school. She said this not unkindly, but in a giggly, honest sort of way. I remain unoffended by this observation, as we are both surrounded by people whose very existence is fuelled by the constant rush of team-oriented physical activities. The athletic community is praised for their hard work and accomplishments, but mere artists, those whose thoughts shape their activities, are dismissed, disparaged, confined to invisibility. If we redefine our idea of productivity, or how we perceive diligence and intelligence, we will be able to unite the humanities and the sciences and the athletic departments. 

When paced, physical activity is essential to a healthy lifestyle; likewise, quieter, focused activities are equally essential to balancing out such busyness and for offering their own kind of psychological busyness. Screens, though an integral feature of society, act only as an unhealthy form of stimulation and a distraction from creative pursuits. One of the very reasons why art forms are becoming invisible and unrecognized is because of the belief that they offer very little to the “new world” where our value is determined by distraction in the forms of technology and exercise that is based on material achievement. However, the advancement and the humanity of this society, of ourselves, relies immeasurably on the knowledge we obtain from books and writing and from the great thinkers who redefined what it means to do, or produce, something.

 

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Hi! My name is Ava and I’m a passionate reader and writer. You can either find me curled up on the couch reading Harry Potter or at my local pilates, barre and yoga studio (or, more realistically, drowning in school work).27

Out of Calamity

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Tricia Keith (she/her/hers), Low Entropy Volunteer Writer

 

Learning to deal with ambiguity is a mighty verse of words. Holding two lines of opposing thoughts at the same time, within the same window of perception, is mighty. How do we continue living our lives to the fullest while watching the shoreline wash away over and over again? Life goes on, and so does ambiguity.

 

Learning to deal with ambiguity is an approach to living that involves your whole person. Two pioneers in the social sciences who have been researching ambiguity and developing treatments and practices to reduce stress and enhance the connections between individuals and strengthen communities are Dr. Pauline Boss and Joanna Macy, Ph.D.  

 

Dr. Pauline Boss, a psychologist, coined the term ambiguous loss in the 1970s. Due to the global forces of COVID-19 and climate change in the last two years, her work is still profoundly relevant. Nearly everyone today is living with some degree of ambiguous loss.

 

With ambiguous loss, there’s really no possibility of closure. Not even, in fact, resolution, whichever word you prefer to use. Therefore, it ends up looking like what the psychiatrists now call “complicated grief.” That is, in fact, a diagnosis, complicated grief. It’s believed that it requires some kind of psychiatric intervention.

 

My point is very different, that ambiguous loss is a complicated loss, which causes, therefore, complicated grief. But it is not pathological. Individually, that is. It’s not a pathological psyche; it’s a pathological situation. As clients frequently say back to me, “Oh, you mean the situation is crazy, not me?” That’s exactly what I mean. – Dr. Pauline Boss, from a 2016 interview on On Being with Krista Tippet

 

Ambiguous loss involves the absence of a person’s physicality but not the psychological connection they have with us or vice versa, the loss of a person’s psychological presence with us, though their physicality remains. Common examples of ambiguous loss can be found in chronic and terminal illness, divorce, aging, parental absence, immigration and addiction. 

 

What is different nowadays is that we have environmental and social forces that none of us can turn away from. These have woken a deep sense of loss for which we have no clear resolution. The despair we feel around climate change, the coronavirus, racial injustice or political polarization, with the attendant secondary losses of trust in our health care systems, police, government, or educational systems create massive, floating, ambient clouds of grief, the presence of which leave many of us feeling both out of control and lost at the same time.

 

That is, if you are not numb to it all. Numbness and avoidance of painful feelings does not mean that you are cold-hearted. It’s simply one way your nervous system protects you. It shuts down the feelz.

 

So, what’s next? Dr. Boss’ therapeutic approach to ambiguous loss involves six guidelines of new perception, through three channels of expression. While it is highly teachable and effective, it is at this point I would like to introduce the work of author, teacher and scholar of Buddhism, systems thinking and deep ecology, Joanna Macy, Ph.D.

 

Macy has spent the last 60 years of her career developing community engagement practices to get us out of the mess we are in without each of us going crazy (one of her books bears a similar title). 

 

Macy’s understanding of our highly evolved inter-connectedness to the world within and around us includes our deep feelings, our deep questions and our deep fears. Her work connects communities in the immensely important opportunity to, as the poet Rainer Maria Rilke wrote, “rise up rooted, like trees,” with compassion (for ourselves and others) and wisdom, seeing the interconnectedness of all life.

 

Macy’s body of work, largely written collaboratively with others, stands rooted under the canopy of her group workshops, The Work That Reconnects: they contain a promise that offers no hesitancy or heroism in their commitment. Applying each person’s authentic intelligence as part of the whole, as well as their emotional states, is fundamental to the community’s ways of uncovering what pains people and developing flexible responses to our world. The creative format she brings, ancient and contemporary, lean community members into systems thinking that connects their feet to the ground, their hearts to one another and the whole of a cell to the whole of our galaxy.

 

If Macy’s work sounds heady and in the clouds, it’s true; she loves theory, though her work is also beautifully playful as well as practical.

 

The Work That Reconnects involves poetry, dancing and systems thinking that mirrors nature. Rational analysis combined with theatrical storytelling speaks to the whole person, with multiple gateways to shift one’s perspective out of calamity and into interconnection, activism and advocacy for a safe and sound world for all living species.

 

Dori Midnight’s artwork below (a gift to Macy) illustrates how the whole can and does sustain us, when the production values of the industrial growth model does not override the wisdom of living for the preservation of seven generations ahead. Sustenance is, rather, a state of wholeness that is not threatened by evolution or diversification. Learning to deal with ambiguity means holding both hands open to complex adaptations, finding new meaning in paradox and rising up resilient over and over again.

 

If you are feeling lost or out of control, I hope this blog post helps in some way, and that you find your interconnection with living and perceptive trees, sky, water and caring people.

 

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Tricia Keith is passionate about care for the dying, carrying loved ones across and walking alongside those who have passed on. Equally, Tricia is inspired by communities that imprint their wisdom of how to become decent ancestors for future generations.

COVID-19: Season 3

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Jihu Lee (she/her/hers), Low Entropy Volunteer Writer

 

Have you ever been advised to not evaluate your life in the middle of the night when you’re tired? I find myself taking that approach when writing; I typically write in hindsight with a relatively placid mindspace that enables me to talk about the past as if it doesn’t hurt me anymore. But this time, I am breaking my own rule.

 

I just finished my first semester of sophomore year in university. On campus! In person! It felt surreal when my family and I drove from Utah to Los Angeles in August. And I was careful to be grateful for every moment.

 

The thing is, I don’t think the majority of us were prepared enough for the return to “normalcy,” whatever that means now. We did have mask mandates, vaccination requirements and a daily symptom check in place. But I realized quickly that adjusting to society again after a year and a half of isolation was far more difficult than expected, and certainly not one that masks or vaccines could address.

 

Of course, I was thrilled at the prospect of in-person classes and learning from amazing professors as well as finally connecting and reuniting with fellow friends. But I felt like a person learning a new skill all over again. My abilities were still intact, but the motions felt awkward and unfamiliar.

 

There is not a word that will accurately capture the feeling of sudden detachment while in the middle of a conversation with someone. Or when there are approximately 44,000 other students on campus with you and yet you are lonelier than ever. At one point, it felt like I forgot that a normal conversation typically begins with a “hello.” Moreover, the idea of others perceiving not just the upper half of my body on a screen, but my entire self, was so bizarre.

 

We are people desperately craving connection while deeply unsure of how to attain it after missing out on proper socialization during some of our most formative years. 

 

Something that is both comforting and despairing is the fact that nearly everyone is feeling this uncomfortable adjustment. We all seem to be pretending to get along fine and appearing to be in lively social circles, but truthfully, I think most of us are uncertain and lost.

 

Not only are socialization and interpersonal connection difficult, but we are all shouldering our own burdens to begin with. Whether these battles have been a part of our lives since childhood and amplified during the pandemic or newly born from it, the bottom line is that we are already fighting something on our own. To try to build relationships at this time in our discombobulated worlds is not an easy task.

 

We are now in Season 3 of the coronavirus pandemic. I was 18 when we first went into quarantine, and now I am 20. To all of you with bleeding hearts and broken visions for the future — especially to young people waiting to live again — take a moment to be proud of yourselves for making it so far.

 

This experience is not over for me or any of us yet, so it’s challenging to talk about it coherently and neutrally like it’s far behind us now. Despite all that has happened in the past nearly two years so far, I am often at a loss for words to describe it all. But what I do know is that I’m willing myself to move forward, even though I don’t know what I’m doing or how I’m feeling. In fact, most of the time I don’t feel any progress at all, like I’m just a stone in a river as the water rushes past me.

 

I hope that anyone who relates can feel some comfort in knowing that you are not alone. Your feelings are unique to you and are not the same as anyone else’s, but in your struggles and depths of despair, I see you and encourage you to keep going. If it’s hard to feel hopeful, then perhaps let’s not force ourselves to find hope at once. But rather, feel whatever you’re feeling at the moment and acknowledge that.

 

Bit by bit, I want to believe that we will find ourselves again. None of it is easy or as inspirational as a cute quote on the internet. But as the days go by, I remind myself that all I can do at the moment is not give up and keep going forward.

 

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My name is Jihu, and I’m from Salt Lake City, Utah! I have been with Low Entropy since May 2021. Some of the things I love are reading, writing, listening to music, playing with my dogs and spending time with my sister!

The Last Time

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Linda Ng (she/her/hers), Low Entropy Volunteer Writer

 

In our busy lives, we easily neglect gratitude. We rush around each day, working hard at our jobs or taking care of our families. We never take the time to appreciate what is around us. Even as I write these words, each minute is ticking by without fail. The time that passes is forever unrecoverable. Time is fluid and does not wait for anyone. Whether you are reading a book or having a great conversation with a friend, the time will keep on passing. Perhaps I was slow to learn just how significant this was, or maybe I was just not worldly enough. As I grow older, time seems to be going at an even faster pace.

 

On my self-improvement journey, I came to a painful realization. Whatever you are doing, it could very well be the last time you are doing it. It doesn’t matter whether the event is happy, difficult or sad. That dinner you had with an old friend? It could have been the last time, because they might soon decide to immigrate to another country to start a new life. What about that time you went to your favourite clothing store? Maybe it was the last time that you’ll ever shop there, because they might be about to close down. All of these events just become parts of our memories.

 

But with this realization, I am still doing the inevitable. I am straying from the present moment. Instead of savouring the moment, my mind is anxious about the past or future. I am thinking about what to cook for dinner or what I have to do for work. I am physically present, but my mind is not. In other words, I am taking everything that is happening for granted. I might be looking at my phone or distracted by something else.

 

Perhaps I expect that I will meet that friend again. Or that I can visit my favourite store at any time. In my mind, I feel that there is no doubt that these events will occur again. I don’t need to focus on what’s happening, or put too much thought into it. Sadly, when I realize that it’s not going to happen again, it is already too late. This creates overwhelming feelings of emptiness and regret.

 

To overcome this, we need to acknowledge and embrace gratitude. We hear people talking about gratitude all the time in the media now. We need to appreciate what we have and treasure the good things in our lives. We don’t do enough of this, at least not intentionally and mindfully.

 

Gratitude makes us appreciate our lives in a whole new way. If I knew I would be seeing my friend for the last time, I would have made sure that we spent quality time together. Instead of just going through mindless motions or letting my mind stray, I would give them my full attention and enjoy a riveting conversation with them. I would be grateful that I had the opportunity to spend this time with them. And it’s the little things that count in life.

 

Maybe it won’t be the very last time that I see them. But by being more intentional about my feelings and actions, I am gaining so much more value from the interaction. The more I treasure them in life, the more grateful I feel. It is a chain reaction. There are so many ways to feel more fulfilled and to be happier. We can start practicing gratitude in our never-ending quest for happiness.

 

As we incorporate feelings of gratitude into our daily lives, we allow ourselves to focus on the positive instead of the negative. We feel a rush of gratefulness over the things that we can enjoy. We have people around us who care for us. This power is more than we can imagine. It’s scary that we will never know the last time anything might occur. Remove the possibility of regret — practice gratitude whenever you can!

 

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My name is Linda and I’m from Canada! When I’m not writing, I enjoy travelling, playing badminton and spending time with my pets. I have a strong passion for self-improvement and mental health topics. I’m hoping to share that with you here at Low Entropy!

What Gen-Z Needs to Know About Work

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Cody Elliot Szaro (he/him/his), Low Entropy Volunteer Writer

Years ago, my parents’ generation, Generation X, looked at us with hopeful eyes. Now we’re looking at Generation Z the same way. We were raised in a world on the brink: climate change, corruption, crisis after crisis and the quickening erosion of Western power in geopolitics. We were told it was up to us to fix a world that was already broken. But there’s still hope, still reasons to get up in the morning. As you grow and begin to enter the workforce, there are a few things you need to know about how the world works.

  • Things weren’t always this way, and they won’t stay this way forever.

 

Do away with the idea of your “dream job.” One can enjoy what they do for work, but working was never meant to be your whole life. We all know the story of the worker who spends every waking moment engrossed in their job, only to miss out on life with their partner, their children, their family. Many people don’t dwell on the history of work, known as labor. It has a long, colorful history, but it is and always has been evolving. We began as hunter-gatherers living together in tight-knit communities. Think about our history as a species. What was “work” originally meant for? Survival. Daniel Everett, having studied a group of Amazonian hunter-gatherers, commented on their lifestyle in The Atlantic:

 

“It’s a pretty laid-back life most of the time,” Everett says. He described a typical day for the Pirahã: A man might get up, spend a few hours canoeing and fishing, have a barbecue, go for a swim, bring fish back to his family, and play until the evening. [. . .] Everett estimates that Pirahã adults on average work about 20 hours a week (not to mention without bosses peering over their shoulders). Meanwhile, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, the average employed American with children works about nine hours a day.

  • It’s okay to dislike working.

 

Humans worked to secure food and shelter for their families. It was what we evolved to be good at; the life that felt right to us. It’s no wonder that, in modern life, we seek escapes through activities like hiking, camping and hunting. We evolved to excel at these things. Life today is different, and evolution has not had anywhere close to enough time to catch up. As a result, we all feel displaced, wrong. We hate working, and are told that that’s not normal. We work most of our waking hours just to scrape by. There is no dream job, because we were never meant to have jobs as they exist now in the first place.

  • You are not alone.

 

The COVID-19 pandemic has sparked an old flame. It has laid bare the exploitative nature of our society and economy that we seem to forget every few generations. While we hunkered down and suffered through the pandemic, the rich got richer. And the moment it was feasible, they demanded we return to work, to make them richer still. The wealthy do not suffer from catastrophe, and they have little sympathy for those of us who do. It sounds bleak, but the fact that millions are beginning to feel the same about this is evidence to the contrary. In the past, workers uniting against the system led to progress. The bad news is that the wealthy will stop at nothing to resist that progress. If you look back through history, nearly all of the labor laws we enjoy today were written with blood, not ink.

 

At times, the US military, sworn to protect the citizens, killed women and children on US soil, all over striking workers. They don’t teach that to Americans in school. What is a strike? It’s when workers collectively decide to stop working until certain conditions are met. Instead of simply sacrificing a small amount of profit to make the workers happy, corporations will resort to aggression to keep getting richer. Don’t think this is something of the past. Despite declining union membership and increasingly unfair practices, we are still catching glimmers of hope. If any of this sounds far-fetched, just open a history book, it’s all there. That’s not to say there aren’t two sides to every story; unions themselves have a complex history and haven’t always been blameless.

  • Educate yourself and others, and fight for what’s right.

 

The first step to change is education. Know your rights! Things like food and shelter are human rights. We should never stop fighting for total freedom because we’ve gained some ground. Every time we grow complacent with our liberties, some of them get taken away. If you take anything away from this at all, remember this: this is not “how the world works.” The current state of things is an invention, created by those with great wealth, wherein they ask you to work constantly so that they don’t have to work much at all. The tale of rags-to-riches is a myth. Your grandparents did have it easy compared to you. With each successive generation, we are told to accept the status quo. But if you don’t, great change is possible. That change isn’t easy, and you may decide it isn’t worth the trouble. But you deserve to know that there is a choice to be made.

 

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Cody Elliot Szaro is an American writer with a passion for wildlife, the environment, and the struggles of working people the world over.

 

My Cross-Cultural Experiences

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Neema Ejercito (she/her/hers), Low Entropy Volunteer Writer

 

My first cross-cultural experience was when my family and I moved to Hong Kong from the Philippines when I was in Grade 7. I remember looking across the school playground during recess with a new Malaysian-Danish friend (who became one of my best friends) and finding it amazing that, in my classroom alone, so many different cultures were represented. My best friend alone represented at least three, with Hong Kong culture being one of them, since she lived there for a couple of years already.

 

I remember feeling overwhelmed with the opportunities that our move opened. For example, instead of choosing among the top three universities in the Philippines to go to after high school, I could now choose among the universities in the U.S.! That’s where my international school was prepping students to apply. I was not only overwhelmed with the differences in cultures geographically: the popular culture that I had only read about in Sweet Dreams or Sweet Valley High became my reality.

 

In my experience growing up in the Philippines, one was popular because they were smart, sporty or active in a student council. Wanting so much to be popular in my new environment, I actually studied how the cool kids wore their hair, talked and spent their weekends, and the list went on and on. There was too much to keep in mind, but I kept trying.

 

Fast-forward to my next cross-cultural experience in Japan, when I won an exchange program scholarship to study there for a year during my last year in university in the Philippines. I had found the exchange program at the student affairs office of the university. I had come home after high school graduation in Hong Kong feeling the itch to travel again.

 

After receiving the scholarship, I was again excited by the thought of living in a different country and learning about different cultures, but also being immersed in a more homogenous culture than Hong Kong. In high school I learned Mandarin and Spanish, but in Japan I focused on Japanese. I was initially going to study sociology there, in connection with my university major, social sciences. After a week of classes, however, I felt that I would maximize my immersion into Japanese culture by focusing on the language. When I took the language aptitude test so that the school would know which class level to place me, I found that, because of my Mandarin background, I could understand the meanings of Japanese kanji. Building on my language background, I felt I could use my language skills in Mandarin to give myself a leg up on my beginner Japanese. As a result, I was actually placed in the intermediate class.

 

Although I was doing well academically, my socio-cultural experience suffered. Having experienced a popularity failure in high school, I embarked on being popular in my new cross-cultural experience. By the time the year was over and it was time for me to go home, I had hurt a lot of people, including myself. It took years of accepting that the one year in Japan wasn’t my lifelong reality, and that I had to move on. I found many years later, when I watched Leonardo DiCaprio in The Beach, that my Japan experience was acutely similar to his character’s Thailand experience.

 

I have since lived in San Francisco and traveled to so many other countries aside from the ones I previously mentioned. Some of the more unusual places I’ve been to are Iceland and Machu Picchu. In the year before the pandemic hit, I actually traveled to four different countries: France, the U.S., Japan, and the UAE.

 

When my family and I moved to Vancouver in April last year, I felt very confident about my openness to another cross-cultural experience. I was mistaken. Let me try to explain it by what people have told me about their experiences with the weather. I thought that my new friends who had recently moved from Calgary and from Korea didn’t have to adjust to the cold like me. But they both described different ways of feeling the cold weather from where they came from. Cold weather wasn’t the same for everyone across the board. Similarly, my cross-cultural experiences weren’t necessarily a one-size-fits-all adjustment, especially since my move here now involves me as a mother and wife. This is so different from when I was a teen or a single adult.

 

I also took for granted that speaking English well meant that I wouldn’t really need such a big cross-cultural adjustment here. I am still making sense of my adjustment, and oftentimes it gets complicated with the pandemic, the weather and, basically, life as I know it. There have been days I find myself hating this muddled period that doesn’t move according to my preferred timeline. But perhaps this seeming lack of clarity is what I’ve got to accept so that I can keep moving forward.

 

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Neema Ejercito is a professional writer, director and creative writing mentor. Her 3D edutainment series for beginning readers, AlphaBesties, is showing in YouTube Japan and Prairie Kids. When she’s not writing or mentoring, she manages her household with her very supportive husband and three children.

The Disappearance of Rituals

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Raghavi (she/her/hers), Low Entropy Volunteer Writer

 

Growing up in a Hindu family, there were a lot of rituals. It was part and parcel of our religion and culture, and was embedded in our day to day life. They covered birth to death and everything in between. Most of them had been passed down for generations. There were also some more recent additions, like squishing limes under the tires of a new car before driving it for the first time, for good luck — I always wonder how that particular one came about. As a child I observed my parents as they carried these rituals out, making us participate along with them, and I put it down to one more thing they made us do. My younger, impatient self was not very interested in these things, favouring my western books and TV. We rarely discussed the meaning and significance behind them; I am not sure how much my parents knew or even understood themselves. Now, as an adult, I am no longer dismissive of these practices, and I am interested in learning and understanding more. It intrigues me how these rituals — not just the ones belonging to my culture, but rituals from all over the world — came into being and managed to survive the passage of time. 

 

When my father died unexpectedly, we had a traditional funeral for him. At that time, overcome by grief, I just wanted to grieve in private and not have to go through the very public process that is a Hindu funeral. Some of the rituals that involved my newly widowed mother were cruel, and watching grown men argue over my father’s dead body about the order in which certain rites were to be performed filled me with unspeakable anger. But looking back now, the many other rituals helped me achieve a sense of closure. Death, especially when it is sudden, is hard to grasp. With those rituals, we marked the end of his life and the passing of his soul, and moved a step further in our grieving process. 

 

Now having moved from the East to the West, I am far away from the culture I grew up in, and with the distance it is easy to forget the rituals of my childhood. It is not easy to carry out these rituals alone, without your elders to guide you. Some of them feel pointless in the absence of family and friends. However, while I have lost touch with some rituals, I have also gained some new ones. I have adopted rituals like putting up a tree and decorating the house with lights every year for Christmas. These help me celebrate the gloomy winter months, and embrace and settle into my home here. 

 

Rituals mark moments in our lives, both big and small. They are an opportunity to slow down and reflect. A way to say thank you, like our harvest festival growing up, and Thanksgiving here. A time to celebrate family and friends, like Diwali and Christmas.  As our lives become increasingly fast-paced, we have less time for our rituals. Some rituals are better off being forgotten; we can leave the not-so-nice ones and carry forward the better ones. 

 

Rituals are not just associated with religions and cultures. They can also be the things we do for ourselves. A warm bath at the end of a hard week of work. The tea I make myself every morning that is pure comfort in a mug. Journaling. It is so easy to forget them as we hurtle through life, trying to juggle everything on our to-do lists, but we must make sure to make time for these rituals. These are the most important ones, the ones that we must make time for in order to cherish ourselves, to celebrate ourselves, to recharge ourselves in order to keep going and to find the best version of ourselves.

 

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Leave your thoughts for Raghavi in the comments below — better yet, start up a dialogue with the Low Entropy community in person at a Conscious Connections meeting or online at our community site. You can also follow us on Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, Twitter and YouTube to stay up-to-date with Low Entropy news!

Cultural Thing

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Olivia Callari (she/her/hers), Low Entropy Volunteer Writer

 

Does anyone truly know the meaning of culture? Surely, when asked about our own, the idea feels as familiar as the back of one’s hand. Culture surrounds us, it is us and it becomes us.

 

When culture is rooted within us, regardless of how we came to be immersed in it, it is appreciated and held with a high level of pride. With this pride can come infinite possibilities, both good and bad. A deep love for one’s culture and being connected through it can revive those who feel lost and disillusioned. It can mend the broken and help them carry on for years and years. But it can also be like asking a patriotic person what they think about their country. Their response might be “I love my country,“ but when questioned about the controversial issues about it, their response would simply remain that they love their country. 

 

Is it common for us to love our cultures without recognizing and holding them accountable for their negative aspects? This was a question I had lingering in my mind for years and years while growing up in a rather traditional Italian culture. I have so much love and pride for my community and my roots, but there were many things that made me itch my head and wonder how they could be played off as part of the culture and tradition.

 

The main thing I wondered about the most was the excusing of hurtful behaviour amongst members of my family. Time and time again I witnessed many fights and many hurtful things being said, as well as some physicality every once in a while. While re-reading this, I heard the little voice in my head say, “Yeah, but that’s how Italians are.”

 

As I began my path to healing, once and for all, it was time to face the parts of me and traumas that I had neglected because I was conditioned to believe the behaviours that caused them were just a “cultural thing.” It was so embedded in me to attribute those behaviours to my culture that I had, in fact, developed a resentment towards it. I wasn’t able to separate my relatives’ individual actions from my culture.

 

With the need to separate from the people who made me feel unsafe, sad and afraid around them came great backlash. I was made to seem unfit to ever be a proper “Italian woman.” I was seen as weak because I chose to appreciate my culture in my own way after healing. 

 

The only regret I had was not knowing sooner that I could be happy in my culture by allowing myself to interpret it my own way. By detaching myself from a cycle of excusing my emotions in the name of culture, I found myself appreciating it even more.

 

—

 

Olivia is a film and television certificate student at NYU Tisch and a recent graduate from Dawson College in cinema and communications. Having grown up in Montreal, Quebec, Olivia has surrounded herself with different cultures and means of creative expression, with hopes to one day incorporate it into her film and television work. Through writing and other forms of artistic expression, Olivia has a natural desire to help others overcome their inhibitions and reach their fullest potential.

New Again: Overcoming Culture Shock

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Grace Cheng (she/her/hers), Low Entropy Volunteer Writer

 

Coming to a new country is daunting and overwhelming. It is normal to experience culture shock, because suddenly you are confronted with a different culture, language, customs, gestures, signs and symbols. People who are not afraid of change have an easier time adjusting to it.

 

In the beginning, it may be difficult for newcomers who must establish new support systems. How long culture shock lasts depends on how well the person can adjust to the new country.

 

Having immigrated to Canada, I had to adjust to paying sales taxes and tips, as neither were required in Hong Kong. My biggest cultural adjustment at school was learning to speak up, because it counted for participation marks. In my hometown, students were not encouraged to speak as often, and there was more deference to authority. In Canada, I was expected to speak up and contribute a lot. My teachers told me they hoped to hear me speak more frequently in class. This was challenging for me since I was an introvert, in addition to being raised with that aspect of Chinese culture.

 

Initially, I was also unaccustomed to small talk, since it was not common for people to converse with strangers on the streets of Hong Kong. I learned that because small-talk topics were light and uncontroversial, they provided a safe environment for people to assess your comfort level and find common ground for conversations.

 

Tips to overcome culture shock:

 

  1. Remember that culture shock is normal

 

Keep in mind that most newcomers and immigrants will experience culture shock. As soon as you get over your culture shock, you will be able to look back with fond memories of your new culture and country. You will be glad that you can live in a different country and experience a different custom and culture.

 

  1. Be open-minded

 

Embracing new experiences is one of the most effective ways to overcome culture shock. By learning and respecting a new culture, you will grow and appreciate new perspectives on life. If you converse with people from different cultures and backgrounds, you will broaden your horizons. Consider attending parties and events, eating food from other cultures, making new friends and inviting friends to your home.

 

  1. Learn the language

 

When you learn the local language and understand what the locals are saying, you will experience less culture shocks.  Your efforts in speaking the local language will make your life easier and will make the locals appreciate your efforts.

 

  1. Learn how the locals live 

 

You will be able to adjust to a new country and overcome culture shock more quickly if you familiarize yourself with local customs and behaviors.

 

  1. Expand your social circle

 

Make new friends from different cultures and backgrounds to broaden your social circle. Taking part in neighborhood activities, community events and meetup groups are good ways to meet new people.

 

  1. Explore the city

 

See what your new city has to offer. Take public transportation to visit different places every day and act like a tourist. When you visit new places, bring your camera with you and take pictures. During this process, you might discover a faster route to take home from work, learn about a new relaxing spot or capture an interesting photo that can be shared with your family and friends.

 

  1. Find a new hobby

 

Consider finding a new hobby, such as hiking, walking in the park, visiting art galleries and museums, or taking recreational courses. When life becomes stressful and difficult, these activities will help you cope with culture shock and cheer you up.

 

Remember that culture shock is a normal reaction newcomers experience when arriving in a foreign country. It can serve as an opportunity for you to become more aware of your own culture, as well as the new culture that you have accepted.

 

— 

 

Grace has an accounting and finance background. She enjoys reading, writing, listening to music, watching movies and playing sports.

From Manila to Alberta

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Julia Magsombol (she/her/hers), Low Entropy Volunteer Writer

 

I was reading some news about immigration, and it stunned me how there are so many people from different countries wanting to live here in Alberta, Canada. Canada opened its doors to over 400,00 new permanent residents in 2021. I wonder why so many people wanted to live here. Did they have the same reason as my family? 

 

Almost eight years ago, my family and I packed our things and left the Philippines to move to Alberta. I was never part of the decision to move here. It was a huge decision that both my parents made for me and my siblings. 

 

My aunt sponsored my family. I never really cared about immigration applications, but I knew that it took many years and effort for us to validly live here. I tend to question my parents and even our fellow immigrants in choosing this path. Why this? 

 

When my family and I were starting out in Canada, it was a difficult time for all of us. My parents’ life completely changed in Alberta. They were both homesick, but for the sake of our future, they persevered and stayed here. They had the strength to stay in this strange country for us, their kids. 

 

My life completely changed when I moved into our new home as well. I remember one incident that I will never forget. After two months in Canada, I started going to school. Everything was new to me, including the system, the people and the culture. I was like a lost kid who was trying to find her mom, but couldn’t. What was more annoying was that I couldn’t talk about this loneliness to my parents because we were all adjusting to this new place. 

 

At school, there were times when I would sit in front of the lockers or inside the washroom all by myself and stay there for a very long time just to kill time before classes started. I would get lost on my way home too, because I would take the wrong bus. I had no one to talk with about all those things, and I wish I did during those times. 

 

I believe that there are two types of loneliness: the kind that we choose, and the kind that we don’t.

 

During those times, it wasn’t my choice to be alone. I didn’t want to be alone, especially when I needed to talk to somebody.

 

But not long ago, I found friends. In all honesty, they were people I wouldn’t think I could be friends with, but I felt comfort and relief. That was enough, and I felt happy. 

 

When I moved to Alberta, I wanted to be someone else, someone better. As my friendships developed, I found myself changing in the most bizarre ways. They weren’t changes that I wanted to because of my own will; they were changes that I needed because of other people, and perhaps their acceptance. Those changes were not good. I felt far from not only my home or my family, but also from myself. 

 

As I spent more time with my friends, I changed the way I dressed and spoke. I changed my attitude and the things I liked. I spent less time with my family. 

 

My mother started to get frustrated with the new me and how I spent more time with other people. I felt guilty then, because I knew that she was also trying to adjust to everything, yet I was ignoring her. Still, I didn’t listen to her,  only to myself.  

 

My mother’s frustrations grew bigger, and we would fight constantly. I have always guessed that she never understood me and how I felt lonely all the time. I said words that I should not have in those fights, because I knew how hurtful they were to my mother. I hurt her a lot. 

 

One day, when I came home late in the winter, I found my mother crying in the living room. The lights were off, and it was very dark. I went to her and asked her what had happened. She wouldn’t say. 

 

I wondered if my dad was fired from his job, or my siblings were bullied at their school, or maybe she was frustrated because she couldn’t find a job. I couldn’t guess. 

 

Then my mother suddenly reached for me and hugged me. It had been a long time since she hugged me, and it felt odd how her hands were so rough. Her tears fell onto my face, and I wanted to pull away from her. But she hugged me so tightly that I couldn’t move. 

 

Still crying, my mother told me that her grandma had just died. She said that she couldn’t do anything. She couldn’t go home because we’d only been in Alberta for two months. It wouldn’t be ideal to go back to our home country and spend a lot more money when our new lives were still not settled. 

 

I wanted to cry in that moment, but I knew I had been so selfish. I only listened to myself and my feelings, but not my mother or the rest of my family. My feelings were valid, but I should have at least cared for my family too. I knew they felt lonely like me. 

 

I couldn’t do anything, but I reached for my mother and hugged her too. I felt some comfort, and maybe a hug was all we needed. 

 

From that winter onwards, everything indeed changed. I changed, and so did my perspective. My parents changed. My siblings changed. Our lives changed. But I know one thing: our relationship with each other never changed. Though we all felt somewhat estranged, we were still warm. 

 

—

 

Julia Magsombol is currently a journalism student from Edmonton, Canada, who desires to bring hope to people through her writing. When not writing or reading, you can catch her sewing clothes, painting nature and drinking instant coffee.

The Colours of Rain

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Susan Turi (she/her/hers), Low Entropy Volunteer Writer

 

© 2022 Susan Turi

 

I am classified as a white person somewhere in a file and in someone’s mind. But to be honest, I don’t know what it is to be white beyond the biological colour of my skin. I have been told that I have a culture related to being white, which is of European ancestry. If I am left-leaning politically, I may think of my white culture as privileged, politically and economically entitled, and elitist. I may have white guilt. If I am politically right-leaning, I may have a favourable opinion of my white culture and feel superior and insulated, yet insecure in my white bubble. But then my inherited generational tastes, as well as access to social and news media, may suggest more subjective, varied labels on me related to whiteness, ranging from tastes in music — as in generally liking rock, classical or country music — to traits such as being a bad dancer and liking bland food. As there is a white culture, there is black culture, summed up in words such as economical marginalization, hip hop music, slavery and Black Lives Matter. But as I am white, my everyday experience is lived through my skin colour, and I can only try to step out of it from time to time to analyze my whiteness, and imagine what it’s like to belong to a different race. Labeling people according to their race is such a reflexive impulse in society that it is easy to never question the origins of this habit. I do it myself, and in writing this article, I had a hard time selecting the right words to use, as the issue of ethnicity and race is emotionally charged. But in order to put this analysis in context and diffuse the emotion, I needed to trace the history of race and its normalized reference points.

 

The meaning of the word “race” — which is the classification of a group of people and their customs based on physical traits like skin colour and hair texture — dates from the colonial period, according to Wikipedia:

 

The modern concept of race emerged as a product of the colonial enterprises of European powers from the 16th to 18th centuries which identified race in terms of skin colour and physical differences. This way of classification would have been confusing for people in the ancient world since they did not categorize each other in such a fashion.[46] In particular, the epistemological moment where the modern concept of race was invented and rationalized lies somewhere between 1730 and 1790.

 

If the designation of race is an inherited colonial concept based on physical traits, then associating a culture to it must serve to legitimize this artificial categorization, which is further explained by Wikipedia: 

 

Modern science regards race as a social construct, an identity which is assigned based on rules made by society.[2] While partially based on physical similarities within groups, race does not have an inherent physical or biological meaning.

 

But as I am neither an anthropologist nor a sociologist, all I have to go on to understand racial and cultural labels is my natural curiosity, and an admission of confusion about them.

 

The issue of race and race relations has been spoken and written about exhaustively throughout post-colonial times, and I am in no position to contribute any new sophisticated arguments to the discussion. But I continue to question labels like black and white and the need to assign cultures to them. As a white person, I am still clueless as to what it means to be white, let alone identify with the culture assigned to me, as I don’t define myself in such narrow terms. My tastes and beliefs are open to development, though I acknowledge my current preferences. I listen to all types of music except maybe country, I grew up eating homemade ethnic dishes, I attended an art and dance school, and my maternal grandfather was a French Mauritian from the island of Mauritius. But no one would ever know this unless I told them so. I am perhaps an exception to the cliche of white culture, but like everyone else, it is suggested that, because of my skin colour, I must follow a cultural stereotype and bear the burden of it. What if the term “white culture” — or any racial culture — as the social construct that it is, does not exist and is a catchphrase used for a hidden agenda?

 

When I was a child, I lived through the Soweto riots of 1976 in apartheid-era South Africa. I remember there was minimal media coverage at the time. It was only many years later,after leaving the country and its censorship, that I found out what it was all about — the identification of a language as a symbol of white oppression and a rebellion against it. Afrikaans was the official language of the white Afrikaner minority government of the racially divided country. A law was passed to make schools use Afrikaans in equal amounts as English in segregated black schools, which led to the Soweto township riots. But there exists a paradox in that Afrikaans was and is also the dominant language of the mixed-race descendants of Malaysian slaves and indigenous San and Hottentot tribes, known as the Cape Malays. To associate their language with white oppression, under which they were also living, was confusing to them. English was also an imposed colonial white language and infringed on indigenous languages, yet it rarely felt oppressive to the majority since English was the language of business and a gateway to the democratic world (which the fatigued yet pragmatic majority understood and accepted).

 

This is an example of how a component of a culture — a language — can be confused with race, leading to marginalization of groups, in this case the Cape Malays, who were seen at the time of the riots as white sympathizers. But South Africa was and continues today to be a culturally rich blend of languages, culinary imports and customs, despite its legacy of apartheid. The Afrikaans language itself is a potage of Dutch, Malaysian and local Bantu dialects, whether the white oppressors of the apartheid era acknowledged it or not. Traditional South African dishes like bobotie pie — a meat dish of Malaysian origin — has been enjoyed by all national ethnicities, which brings me back to the same question of whether a simplistic racial culture can exist if there is so much genetic and cultural diversity in modern societies?

 

A population and its culture, as a prism of many reflected colours and flavours, is just like light split into a spectrum by rain — far more complex than its appearance. People cannot be summed up in a crude, minimalist way and assigned a culture according to their skin colour. In addition, it can be easy to confuse racial struggles with class and sexual inequalities. Racial culture expands on the idea of an individual ethnicity with a symbolistic, invasive mindset. It is time to put racial labels like “white” and “black” and their “cultures” into their historical context where they belong, as they are reductionist, divisive and unhelpful in moving toward a more inclusive society. Even if society continues to habitually categorize its population according to shared customs, tastes and ethnicities for convenience’s sake (as I was compelled to do when writing this article, for lack of better words), racially labeling people limits social progress. Just as there was a sexual revolution, maybe there needs to equally be a racial revolution. We have no choice in the inherited colour of our skin or other physical traits, but we can choose to create stronger communities free from racial labels — communities enriched by their diversity and judged by their collective and individual deeds. To quote Sidney Potier, “I never had an occasion to question colour, therefore I only saw myself as what I was . . . a human being.” 

 

References: 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Race_(human_categorization) 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Soweto_uprising 

https://www.inspiringquotes.us/author/6037-sidney-poitier 

 

—

 

Susan Turi is a writer, illustrator and painter living in Montreal, Canada with a degree in fine arts. She began her career as a production artist for design studios and ad agencies, before deciding to devote herself purely to self-expression through writing and painting. She is currently at Concordia University majoring in creative writing and English literature.

How I Banished Imposter Syndrome

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Linda Ng, Low Entropy Volunteer Writer 

 

I have never felt more like a fraud in my life. Today, I completed my 200-hour yoga course. I am now the proud owner of a yoga teacher certificate. That means that I am qualified to teach yoga. Honestly, it feels great. I am proud of this accomplishment. But on the inside, I feel terrified. What do I do with this certificate? Can I stand in front of a group of people and lead them through a complete yoga sequence, correctly naming all the yoga asanas in Sanskrit? Just this very thought drenches me in sweat! It is a typical case of imposter syndrome.

 

If you have never experienced imposter syndrome before, it is a bad case of self-doubt. Although I have been certified, I do not believe that I have the necessary skills. Despite my accomplishments, there are still feelings of incompetence and uncertainty. Fortunately, I have had these feelings before. I recognize it when the symptoms manifest. Through experience, I have narrowed down some ways to banish imposter syndrome. They may not work for everyone, but they might make a good starting point.

 

Write Out Achievements

There is just something about the act of writing. It somehow allows you to focus more effectively and holds you accountable. Start this by listing all your achievements. Before you know it, you are looking at a list of accomplishments that you can admire. Instead of focusing on negativity and self-doubt, you can focus on all of your achievements. These accomplishments show your hard work and highlight your competence.

 

Focus on Your Accomplishments 

An effective way of banishing those nagging self-doubts is to focus on the positives and accomplishments. Although I feel like a fraud, I legitimately completed all the course modules and passed the tests and assignments. I received a passing mark and a certificate to mark my achievement. I didn’t cheat or pretend to know the answers. 

 

Avoid Comparison

It is natural human behaviour to compare yourself to others. Other people always have something better, while we are always inferior. It is easy to gravitate towards negativity. There will never be an end to the comparison because what we have is never enough. Each person is a unique individual. Comparing yourself to others holds no merit and throws you down a deep rabbit hole.

 

Talk to Others

It is almost always beneficial to talk to someone about your concerns. Tell them you feel like a fraud and share your worries. It does not have to be a formal therapy session. It can be a casual conversation with a trusted family member or a close friend. Gaining a new perspective is often a great way to guide you to positive enlightenment about your situation. 

 

Visualize Your Success

Instead of focusing on the negative, we can use the principles of manifestation and visualization, and perhaps even the law of attraction. Instead of imagining my awkward embarrassment in front of a yoga class, I can start by envisioning success and a sense of accomplishment. Every time a negative thought comes by, turn it into a positive one. Attract positivity. It is simply a process of training your mind, and that is the first step. 

 

Consider Worst-Case Scenarios 

Try imagining the absolute worst scenario in each case. When you drill down into the details, you can see how ridiculous you have been. If I say something wrong in the yoga class, will a student leave the class and ask for a refund? Will they shout at me, voicing their displeasure? Likely not. I might be a little flustered, but I will learn from my experience. When you keep thinking about the worst thing that could happen, it will be evident that your fears have been unfounded. 

 

Transform Thoughts, Feelings and Behaviour

In cognitive behavioural therapy, the premise is that our thoughts translate to feelings, which translate to behaviour. It is also true the other way around. If you use positive associations to reinforce behaviour, you can positively affect your thoughts.

 

No matter what method you use to rid yourself of imposter syndrome, understand that self-doubt and incompetence are useless feelings. They serve no purpose. We need to believe in ourselves and remove self-doubt. Attract confidence and success. 

 

—

 

My name is Linda and I’m from Canada! When I’m not writing, I enjoy travelling, playing badminton and spending time with my pets. I have a strong passion for self-improvement and mental health topics. I’m hoping to share that with you here at Low Entropy!