Theories - 067

Written By Jake Kahana
 

The Savings Illusion

I made a huge mistake this month.

Last summer, we had to replace our air conditioner. It was pricey, and they said we had one year of no interest. So we took the deal. But I misread the email and the date we were supposed to pay. And we were charged more than $2,000 in interest.

But there's an upside. Sort of.

The day before I discovered my error, I was negotiating with our contractor who's redoing our kitchen and basement later this year.  "If you pay in cash," he said "I can come down $5k."

So I'm not an expert in math. But, in a way, we sort of made money. Right?

Because of all this, I'm formulating a theory about finances.

Let's call it The Savings Illusion.

The idea is that whatever money is saved in one area of life is spent in another. Not exactly a Seinfeldian "Even Steven" situation. More like a "don't worry about saving every penny" philosophy. 

Here's another example: Last fall, we got rid of our nanny and sent our kids to school. But I don't feel like we're saving the thousands of dollars we should be. In fact, it's not even a feeling. I'm looking at my bank account and thinking "where is all this money?"

The Savings Illusion is a theory that seems to guide my life but I can't exactly prove.

This month, I'm thinking about other theories like that.

Here are a few others that feel like they explain so much about my life and the world around me right now. Some of them, like The Savings Illusion, are mine and some are from friends and people I follow that are too good not to share. 

Ready?

 

"Vortex of Despair" by Aqsa Waheed

 

1950s Smoking Era of Smartphones

(via David Cain)

In the early 20th century everyone smoked.
Wait, just checked. Yep. Everyone.
Doctors and nurses and pregnant housewives and teenagers.
In fact, United Airlines used to offer free cigars on some flights in the 1940s.

By the mid 1950s, tobacco companies were facing hard evidence that tobacco caused throat and lung cancer. There was finally research that proved that their business was doing harm. They pushed back on the scientific findings with their own (biased, sponsored) research. Legal restrictions started to be implemented and the advertising changed. Then packaging. By the mid 1980s, smoking was no longer allowed on airplanes. By the late 90s, it was removed from most restaurants. Now, the CDC reports that about 11% of adults smoke.

Most of us have internalized the research, realized that it's harmful for us, and chosen to not partake.

While social media and smartphones may not seem as damaging as cigarettes, there's a parallel here. The theory is that we're in the 1950s Smoking Era of smartphones.

There's so much research out there now that smartphone use is bad for us. Social media and screens and digital operating systems are designed to be addictive. There is a direct link between increased smart phone use and our collective increased anxiety, loneliness, and cultural divisiveness. Americans are spending an average of 4.8 hours a day on our smartphones, which obviously gets in the way of being more physically active or socially (IRL).

Last week, the US Surgeon General Vivek Murthy called for warning labels on social media platforms to advise parents that social media is potentially damaging to the mental health of teenagers. Sound familiar?

I love this theory because it implies a sense of hope. Some day soon, with the help of regulation and intervention, we'll all catch on and laws will change and device design will change and people will take back control of their decision making, attention, and mental health.

I'm not going to promise that there's not an apt analogy for ecigarettes and vaping coming our way in a decade or two. But for now, I'm living with the hope of a theory that while we're all addicted to our phones, we may see some respite in the decades and generation(s) to come.

 
 

America is Going Through Puberty

(via Christian Fahrenbach)

I remember being 13 and having a bad day at school.

When I came home, I slammed the door to my room, put on an angry CD (Fiona Apple? Radiohead? Elliott Smith?) and just sat in the frustration, angst, and isolation of being an early teenager. We all had experiences like that?

Which is why, when my friend Christian proposed this theory that America is going through puberty, it resonated. Christian is a German journalist who often writes about pop culture happenings in the states so the Germans can understand.

Especially compared to an established, old country like Germany, the US is a child. And puberty explains a lot here.

During puberty, everything is polarizing. One day my best friend says something and now he's my enemy. In evaluating music, food, activities, and even people– they're either the best ever or the worst. In America, we love a celebrity for a while and then suddenly turn on them for something they said. CANCELLED!

There's a lot of hate mixed with ego. We hate things because we don't understand them but we think we're smart and understand everything.

During puberty, there's also a lot of bandwagon jumping. So much of our culture is driven by wanting to be like everyone else. The way we post online, share, talk to our friends, pick up habits. It's all trying to be cool, popular, and liked.

Maybe what drew me to this theory is the optimism in its relatability. We were all teenagers once. Puberty is an uncomfortable transition filled with extreme outbursts, desire for independence and autonomy, emotional peaks and valley. And while it feels like this is the new normal for the world we live in, this theory reminds me that it's a phase that we can and will grow out of.

Acne doesn't last forever.

...right?

 

Illustration by Stevan Rodic

 

Sensitivity Is a Superpower

My grandfather's life story reads like a superhero's. He ran away from home at 16 when his father was murdered by an Anti-Semitic uprising in Ukraine. Arriving in Palestine in the 20s, he helped to build some of the infrastructure of early Israel and helped the intelligence during the 1948 war of independence. He had 5 kids, 11 grandchildren, and established himself as a well-respected businessman in Jerusalem taking the bus into town to work until the last week of his life.

Then, my father fought in the Yom Kippur War, paid his own way through two degrees in a foreign country, then started and ran his own business for 35 years.

...This morning, my kid cried because he wanted the yellow gummy bear, not red one.

With each generation, we're getting more sensitive. There's no denying it.

Have we gone too far and gotten too sensitive? Perhaps. But it comes from a good place.

I want my kids to have a better, easier life than I had. I don't really want my kids to struggle, be bullied, or get hurt. Even though all the research points to that overprotection being detrimental to their development. They should face challenges, be pushed, learn to be resilient by teaching them how to regulate their nervous systems and emotions, process the events, and re-enter the situation with grace and understanding.

If it's true that we're becoming more sensitive, those are the skills we need to balance it:
To regulate ourselves in the moment.
To process the situation afterwards.
And then to re-enter when we're ready.

When we get all up in arms about a Facebook post, go on a twitter rant about a news story, or raise our voice replying to our partner or kids, we're just spreading the heated emotions. Being more sensitive is not helpful if all we're doing is getting emotional.

But sensitivity is not just getting soft.
Sensitivity is a super power.

Sensitivity allows us to be more aware of the world around us.
It allows us to be more compassionate. Empathetic. Self-aware.
It helps us create belonging for other people and ourselves.

It really is a super power if we believe it is.
But it requires teaching our kids and reminding ourselves that we need to harness that power.

Take a deep breath. (Regulate)
Think about the story you're telling yourself about what just happened. What other story might also be true? What would someone who disagreed with you say? (Process)
Keep going. (Re-enter)

We have super powers.
Let's use them for good.

 
 

Novelty Theory

Walking into Radio City Music Hall for the first time felt like magic. Last month, I was looking forward to seeing Jacob Collier, a talented genre-bending multi-instrumentalist. As expected, the music was great. But the show was sort of impersonal. He came out and said something like "How you feeling New York?" and did his usual audience-as-choir conducting. It was fun, but a little... expected?

The opening act, Kimbra, was actually much more intimate. She came on stage with just a keyboard and filled the arena with her presence. She told stories about moving to New York, writing songs in her tiny Brooklyn apartment, and dreaming of one day performing at Radio City.

It was captivating and inspiring.

She put on a performance that felt singular. Unique. I could tell that was not the same script, jokes, and set list she would play the next night in Philadelphia.

And that is what I believe we look for in live experiences.

I'll call it Novelty Theory. 

When we go to a concert or watch a sport live, we are hoping to witness novelty. Actually, even more than just witnessing, we seek to actually be a part of something completely unique. We want to seek the novelty. We want to believe that this time is different. I'm part of something special.

It's beyond performance.

I think it applies to road trips and vacations. Museum visits. Dinner parties and afternoon hangouts. We want our life to feel special. And our lives feel special when we have have novel experiences to look back as memories.

Novelty is also an invitation for presence– a rare commodity in today's hyperconnected and superdistracted world. But presence is the only requirement to appreciate magic.

Today is the only Saturday, June 29, 2024 you'll ever get in your whole life.

Go make some magic.

 
 

I Seem Like I Know, But I Don't

When I started writing this month's Refrigerator, I was confident I would write about 9 different theories. They ranged from relationships to economics to out-there, woo-woo purple crystal, universe theories. And I only wrote five.

It got me thinking that I don't know how things will go.
I don't exactly have a plan that always works.

And after talking to a few friends, I realized that it might sometimes seem like I do. Like I have my life together and everything mapped out because I'm that kind of person. I have two kids, and a wife, and a house with some framed artwork. And I write these emails every month.

But it seems to me that everyone else has it more figured out than me. Whether it's being a "better" parent. Balancing work and life. Finding time for date nights and marriage. Making art. Performing.  Taking a class just for fun.

The theory I have is that everyone ELSE seems like they know the secret.
But the truth is, I'm figuring it out as I go.
That's all I can do.
I'm making the best choices I can with what I know.
And the nice thing to remember is, so are you.

Refrigeyalater, friend.
-Jake

Me again.
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The Email Refrigerator is a monthly delivery of essays, poetry, imagery, and thoughts, written and curated by Jake Kahana. Why a refrigerator? Well, it's where we look for snacks, a little freshness, and where we hang the latest, greatest work. And besides, "newsletter" sounds like spam.

 
Jake Kahana http://www.jakekahana.com
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