The measure of our lives
I’ve just finished listening to The Measure: A Novel by Nikki Erlick. The plot is perhaps the most intriguing thought experiment I’ve run across in a long time: One day, every adult on the planet receives a mysterious box. On the outside is an inscription: The measure of your life lies within. And inside: There’s a string.
Some people open the box immediately. Others never do. Eventually, we learn that the contents of the box—the length of the string—can accurately predict how long each person will live.
The book takes the concept to high drama. Free will vs. destiny. Political posturing. Romantic ambivalence. Culture wars. And ultimately, vile discrimination against the short stringers. Why should society invest in the happiness or success of someone who’ll be gone in no time. As we know, ageism is a bitch!
Would you open your box?
Could you fall in love if you knew you’d outlive your partner?
Is our number of years on the planet the best way (or the only way) to measure the value we bring?
Aside from the obvious message of the book—that we should live every day with intention regardless of how long we have—I’ve been noticing how many things technology prompts us to count and measure. I know I’m guiltier than most. And I’m thinking we should STOP!
Sporty activity: How many ski days we got in a season. How many meters we swam in the pool. How many vertical feet will tomorrow’s bike ride be? I’m so tired of counting my steps and my strokes. But my smart watch is relentless. And still, I keep it on my wrist.
Health data: After years of not weighing myself except at doctor’s offices, longevity experts have sucked me into buying a smart scale. Now, I’m checking daily on my body mass index, bone mass, water weight, subcutaneous fat, and more. I really would rather not know.
Social connections: We all know it’s healthier to have a few close friends who have your back than a thousand virtual connections. Yet most of us are hooked on the transactional validation of likes and follows. I’d love to shut down my accounts, but I think invisibility freaks me out. And I like to see what my real friends are up to.
Money in the bank: Markets fluctuate and we can’t predict our need (or not) for long-term care. Since we don’t know how long we’ll live or how much we’ll need, there’s probably no ROI on monitoring our daily balances.
So what are we data geeks to do? How can we stop counting and measuring and comparing? How can we just enjoy?
I don’t know if it will work, but I’ve got a plan. For the next week—give or take…who’s counting?—I’m going to step back off the scale. I’ll withdraw a wad of cash from the bank and use it to pay for food. I’ll leave my devices at home when I walk the dog.
I’ll replace the battery in my analog watch. Instead of using the smart one to ping my phone, I’ll pay closer attention to where I put it. I’ll sleep until I feel rested, and get out of the pool when I’ve had enough.
No doubt this will be frustrating as hell. And it will take some getting used to. But with any luck at all, I’ll lose count of the days. Then the weeks? Maybe even the months?
And I won’t even notice!
