Today, I experimented with asking Codex to interview me based on the recurring ideas in the posts on this blog. It asked five questions, one at a time, allowing each answer to shape the next question. What began with a small bridge in Alameda became a conversation about slowness, attention, ambition and giving yourself grace.
Codex: You’ve written that paying attention makes life richer, and that carrying a camera or recorder changes what you notice. What is one small thing you noticed today that you suspect you would ordinarily have missed?
Craig: I had to drive into Alameda, and normally I’d drive through the tunnel based on where I’m headed, but today I drove over the bridge. It’s one of those bridges that parts in order to let boats pass, and the only other time I’ve driven over it, I had to stop because a boat was just about to pass through. I was in a bit of a hurry today, so I was glad that I didn’t have to wait, but it reminded me of how happy I was the previous time to sit there and watch it happen. When I was a kid growing up in England, the fanciest trip I remember taking was to London, and we got to see Tower Bridge part to let a boat pass. I was totally enthralled. Completely transfixed. It’s one of the things that made me fall in love with London. That made me go back again and again when I started working and could afford the train fare. That eventually made me move there and live there for many years. I hadn’t expected this small bridge in Alameda to make me pause and marvel in that same way again, but it did.
Codex: If the bridge had opened today and forced you to wait, which feeling do you think would have arrived first: frustration at being delayed, or delight at seeing it happen again? And which feeling would you have chosen to pay attention to?
Craig: I think frustration at first, but I typically get over frustration pretty quickly. I think I could have been glad enough to sit there and watch. We had blue skies, I was listening to a good podcast, and I really do love seeing these big, heavy, rustic bridges move with such elegance. I like being reminded of the past, and especially of London. I like seeing slow scenes unfold in a world that moves quickly. In the most mundane way, I like bridges and boats and water. I try to remind myself that looking for the positives is a good way to live. There’s always something to learn, or notice. There’s always a memory that might resurface. Choosing to look for and notice the good things just makes life better; more beautiful.
Codex: You’ve written about the beauty of making things slowly, while today you were relieved not to be slowed down. How do you distinguish between slowness that enriches your life and slowness that merely gets in its way?
Craig: There can be beauty in both, but on the surface there’s a qualitative difference between slowness that you choose and slowness that is presented to you. The latter doesn’t have to be bad, but it depends what you’re looking for in that moment. Working quickly can produce something that you might not have got to when moving slowly. Despite what I just said, I’d still rather be stuck waiting for a beautiful bridge, boat or view than stuck inside of a tunnel. I think it really comes down to what the moment calls for and whether you have capacity to hold that moment, in that moment. I think that you can change your state of mind, but there are going to be times where it’s harder to shift gears. If you can choose slowness and you can appreciate it, that’s great. If it’s taking something from you and you can’t take much back in that moment, it might not feel great.
Codex: You’ve described care as something people can sense. When life presents an unwanted delay, what does treating that moment with care look like, especially when you do not have much capacity to give it?
Craig: I think that you’re treating yourself with care, not treating the moment with care. I often feel like I’m not doing enough; not accomplishing enough. I think that’s a pretty universal human experience these days. Sometimes unwanted delays force you to reckon with that idea, and sometimes you’ll find some acceptance in it. When you’re up-close to all of the things that you need to do (or feel like you need to do) it can be difficult to find and maintain perspective. If a delay means that your brain can get out of the loop for a minute, I think that it can help you to evaluate whether you really needed to be stuck in that cycle. Things that seemed important 20 minutes ago can start to feel inconsequential. You can let go of them, and maybe start again in a healthier frame of mind. That’s what I meant when I said that there can be beauty in both. You might still prefer that things didn’t get in your way, but there could still be some value in it.
Codex: Imagine that, years from now, another ordinary bridge unexpectedly returns you to this drive through Alameda. What do you hope you will remember about the person you were today, beyond bridges, boats, and London?
Craig: I hope I’ll remember what it felt like to have picked up and moved my life to another country, thousands of miles away from home, and to still feel like I wasn’t doing enough. I hope that it will give me perspective, and that years from now I’ll give myself some more grace. That I’ll find some acceptance. I don’t think that wanting more for yourself is bad, at all. I’ve always wanted more for myself. I still want more for myself. I think the difference is that it can be a positive or negative feeling, and I’ve caught myself on the negative side a few times too many in the past couple of years. I hope I’ll remember writing this down, actually—reflecting on it, and maybe this moment being the point that I decided to lean more into the positive framing of that feeling. I want more for myself. That’s exciting. That doesn’t mean that I’m not enough today.