caring despite despair
a meditation on why we must care, more than we control
There is much to despair about. As far as I can tell, the bad guys are winning and have been winning for centuries. There are the rare instances where might is not right, but the time of our existence as moral beings on this planet, and possibly the only ones in the universe, has largely been a failure to recognize our own gifts of moral judgement. We have this rare atma (or soul) that feels guilt and remorse yet we squander it.
We have now constructed systems, such as supply chains or communication systems, so vast and complex that the average person has no way of intellectually untangling right from wrong, yet deep down, somehow, they still know. You know and I know that morality has lost when security guards are necessary for public gatherings, movie theaters, and school campuses. Morality has lost when we mistake vengeance for justice.
But I am only thirty, I am too young for cynicism, and so I write feverishly about hope and the ways in which the good can win. We lose when we stop caring. Despite the despair and the pain of loss, hope is the continuation and cultivation of care until the very end.
to care about is a thought, to care for is an action
Is there a difference between caring and controlling? What traces does care leave behind? How does it feel to control?
I came home from a birthday party last Friday and my kitchen was spotless. How I love a clean kitchen. The black countertop wiped to a shine; wiped in circles so no streaks. The dishes kept away and the sink empty. Pots and plates stowed out of sight. The smell of jasmine lingering, just enough of it to give a finishing, purifying touch. What satisfaction! Sniff!
Then I paused. Was it okay that I wanted my kitchen to be clean? Or was this some sort of ploy for control? I began to worry.
But then I spotted a single dirty dish at the bottom of the sink. I gingerly picked it up and began running a stream of warm water over it, adding floral soap and slowly brushing it in circles, creating a saucer of soapy, lovely foam. The grayish blue, small ceramic plate almost purred in delight.
It was then that I realized, and I am not sure when or how, that I had changed into a person who took care. I took care of my space. I folded my laundry methodically, vacuumed our bedroom carpet weekly, and kept track of even my smallest earrings. I knew each shirt and pant I owned. I placed our forks and spoons in an arrangement so that when we open the drawer, we notice that someone gave our utensils time and consideration.
I cared for our house and it became a home. I turned space into place.
My care extends beyond the home and objects. I have become a person who cares, one-by-one, for her relationships. Her fiancé, parents, sister, nieces and nephew, in-laws, friends, colleagues, neighbors, and extended family. For herself. For the natural and built environment around her.
Anyone who knew me in college or my early to mid-twenties would not accuse me of being uncaring. I cared so much about social issues that I had to let other people know, otherwise it would burst out of me. But while I learned to care about, I failed to care for. To care for is an action, with results that bloom into the world.
These revelations might seem simple to you, dear reader, but that is a good thing! That means that you have always cared for. I have not. I have treated people, issues, and myself with neglect. This is partially because I used to confuse care and control, and I did not want to become controlling. I feared a slow descent from care to the excess care, also known as obsession. But you know what I think? I think there is a difference between taking care of my kitchen and trying to control it.
to care for versus to control
There is a lot of boring instruction out there on how to design, but the dominant paradigm thinks of design as a way to control. What if design was instead conceived of as a way to care — care for a community of users, a built-environment, or a larger technical system. A parent who desperately loves his child and wants to care for him must not mistakenly attempt to control the child, otherwise the child will forcibly assert autonomy.
To care for is to notice. To care for takes time and patience. To care for is to have understood what the subject of your affection needs and then to fulfill those needs with attentiveness and discipline. It is to have recognized the agency of this subject and to allow for them to fulfill their own destiny, free of your intervention.
I believe that the beauty of the universe is, try as anyone might, be they a parent, a boss, or a dictator, there is no way to control.
Restriction of speech, movement, or thought can only create the illusion of darkness, but the truth is that each of us, the animate and the inanimate, always have a way back to ourselves. And so I let out a sigh of relief, placing the ceramic plate on the drying the rack and letting it drip water onto the counter.
My only option is to care for my kitchen, I cannot control it, but what this also means is that nothing, and no one, can control me.