Stop Asking People About Work All The Time

The sun is shining warmly but gently, the cooler is filled to the brim with beer, the guac is to die for, there are five dessert options, and you're surrounded by a bunch of awesome people you haven't seen in awhile. This is the life. Parties are awesome. Now, the host is introducing you to a stranger. You exchange the obligatory nice-to-meet-yous, and then they hit you with it: "So, what do you do?"

All of a sudden, the joy is sucked out of you as the existential dread hits you hard. The existential dread that you had been so happy and grateful to escape for a few hours is back with a vengeance. All you want to do now is punch this stranger in the face. Why did they have to ask that question!!!???

Okay, so that's a bit of dramatic exaggeration, but the emotional core is true as hell. "What do you do?" is one of the most common small-talk questions ever asked, and usually one of the first, which makes sense because we spend so much our lives working. It's only natural something that eats up a third of our weekdays will be an obvious target. However, it's absolutely insane that this is normal, considering how horrible and hurtful that question can be. Anyone who has ever gone through a bout of unemployment, career change, or job unhappiness knows what I'm talking about.

That question from strangers (and it's sister questions from acquaintances/friends/family: "What are you working on now?" and "How's work going?") can be a pleasant invitation to talk about something you're really jazzed about, or it can be the unwelcome reminder of the pain you don't want to talk about and wanted to escape. It doesn't really matter if asked with good intentions; it's still destructive.

How can these questions be so bad? Well, they're part of a larger problem: our identities are usually far too tied to our careers. It's only natural that our careers make up a key part of our identities, for the same reason it's only natural people ask about it: we spend so much damn time working. Plus, our careers generally provide a consistent platform for us to do something for the world, to produce or provide things for the world. Our careers can help us be useful and feel useful.

When we derive meaning or satisfaction from our careers, then it's healthy for it to be a key component in our identity. The problem is that most of us make it a much larger component of our identity than it should be. It isn't just one of the main courses, it's the appetizer, salad, sides, and dessert too. When we get the balance wrong and career takes control of our identity, we run into major trouble.

Whenever things don't go well at work, we're out of a job, or change our career, we have an identity crisis. We feel awful about ourselves because we're not feeling useful. We feel depressed, confused, and anxious because we don't know who we are anymore. We become pessimistic and look at everything with a negative perspective because we're having a negative experience with the one big basket we put most—or all—of our eggs in. Hell, even when our career is great, if too much our identity is dependent on it, we're mentally and emotionally imbalanced, brewing an identity crisis waiting to explode all over the mental health kitchen.

There are a lot of reasons why we tend to invest too much of our identity stock into our careers. It's a complex and multi-faceted issue that I certainly can't address or resolve in one blog post. Nor can I claim to be an expert or that I fully understand it. What I can do is address one of the major players: the frequent and commonplace asking of what people do for a living or how work is going. 

These questions are not solely responsible for the identity issue, but they are most definitely contributors. Because they're asked so often, because work is one of the primary topics of small-talk, and because it's usually the first topic asked about, it only encourages us to regard it as one of the most significant things in our life and therefore identify more strongly with it than is necessary and healthy. By asking about it so much and usually first, we make it a bigger deal than it should be. Moreover, it imposes limits to what's acceptable to be part of our identity. When everyone asks us about our work life instead of the other interesting stuff we're into or have going on, we feel that the other aspects of our life aren't worthy of identifying strongly with. We feel that work is of the utmost importance.

Not that it isn't important. Of course it is, but let's face it, we make too big a stink over it. There are lots of ways for people to be and feel useful outside of work: raising kids, volunteering, helping others, building things, making art, learning new things, teaching, mentoring, coaching, contributing ideas, complimenting people, etc. This list could go on for pages and pages.

The point is, there are so many things for people to round out their identity portfolio with. And while this option is always available to people, we're all collectively making it harder by giving career front and center stage, by giving it more attention than it deserves. One way to improve that is to stop always asking people what they do for a living or how their working life is going.

I'm not saying to never ask about it; that would be silly. Just, let's stop making it the first and primary small-talk question when meeting someone for the first time or seeing someone we know in a non-intimate situation. I don't really have hard and fast rules, just a few suggestions:

1. Always keep in mind that someone might be unemployed, in the midst of career change, or unhappy with their job. All of these are painful experiences that no one wants to make small talk about with strangers or at fun events with friends and family. Sometimes, the best thing someone needs is a temporary escape from their misery.
   
   
2. If you do want to ask about and express concern for someone you know who is going through a hard time in their career, never do it in a public or jovial situation. Wait until you're in a private and intimate situation when they'll feel comfortable discussing their troubles and actually be open to it. Don't ever put them on the spot around strangers or in big groups.
   
   
3. Try and ask open-ended questions when meeting someone or catching up. It gives people equal opportunity to share stuff they really want to share or be private about their troubles. I'm not sure what the right questions are because most of us are really bad with "Tell me about yourself" and "So what's new?" But I think a lot of that is due to us not having enough practice with open-ended questions. If these become the norm rather than direct questions about our career, we'll all slowly learn to step up our conversation game.
   
   
4. Find ways to ask about the other aspects of people's lives. If you don't know any or they aren't good with open-ended questions, look for clues in what they're wearing, tidbits they let slip or you overhear. Or heck, you can always ask what they did with their free time that week. That is still open-ended but with a smaller window of time to reference, making it easier for them to think on their toes.
   
   
5. If you're introducing strangers to each other, be creative with your introduction. Introduce them with interesting tidbits about each other that a) would be engaging topics of conversation and b) you know they won't mind talking about.

I don't have all the answers to the problem of our identities being too dependent on our careers and the identity crises that follow suit, but I do know that one simple thing we can do to help out is stop making it such a big and common topic of conversation. There's more to life than careers, so let's ask and talk about other stuff!

Gentle Reminders For Election Season

Well, crap. Here we are: another presidential election season. Since we're all deeply flawed human beings, relationships and conversations everywhere are going to get tense, hostile, or downright juvenile. As such, I think we could all—myself included—use some gentle reminders before we open our mouths for the next few months.

• You will never change anyone's mind by yelling, insulting, shaming, or dismissing. In fact, you'll only accomplish the exact opposite: entrenching people further and firmer in their current stances. And they'll just think you're an asshole because, at that moment, you really are being one.
   
• Even calm, rational, and respectful conversation is unlikely to change anyone's mind. The psychological barriers are pretty high and steep, especially the longer a belief has been held. We are all pretty bad at changing our beliefs, so never expect a miracle.
  
  
• People can sense when your motive is to change their mind and it will always be resented. You stand a better chance if you go into a conversation with an open mind and the intention of sharing your thoughts and feelings along with an equal curiosity to learn theirs. Yes, ironically, you're more likely to change someone's mind if you're not trying to change their mind.
  
  
• Everyone, and I mean everyone, is kind of stupid because our brains are seriously flawed. Our idiot brains are prone to all sorts of illusions, fallacies, and prejudices. No one is exempt, no matter how smart you are or how refined your critical thinking. Seriously, read this book and have your mind blown.
  
  
• Most people really do have their hearts in the right place, want the world to be a better place, and are doing the best that they know how. Sure, there are some destructive beliefs out there spawning from anger, prejudice, or indoctrination, but at the heart of all that really just lies vulnerability and fear. We'll all get along a lot better and be able to have civil discourse if we approach each other with compassion and understanding for what actually lies beneath all the crap.
  
  
• Whenever you're stewing about how the other side is just so dead wrong, so misguided, so stupid, so evil, or so whatever, remember that the other side thinks the same thing about you.
  
  
• The firmer your belief and the more assured you are of it means the more important it is for you to question that belief. A lot of our beliefs are not based on solid logic and critical thinking because, as we've just been reminded, our brains are stupid. We all think we know why we believe what we do, but we really don't. We all think all our beliefs were forged out of long, careful, deep thought, but a lot of them really weren't. Again, read this book and have your mind blown.
  
  
• There is a staggering amount of misinformation out there: fake news stories, perpetuated myths, old wives tales, falsified studies, misquotations, things taken out of context, and outright lies. Question every story, article, opinion, or fact, whether it supports your belief or not. In fact, question the ones that support your beliefs even more than the ones that oppose your beliefs. Your brain is prone to confirmation bias: you are more ready to believe things that support what you already believe and the story you've constructed for yourself than things that oppose that. Have I told you to read this book yet?
  
  
• One huge problem with our brains is that the more we hear something, the more our brain just assumes it's true, even if it's false or a lie. Be on your guard and question everything. Do your homework to make sure something is actually true before you contribute to the propagation of false information. And please, read this book!
  
  
• Everyone is entitled to their opinion, but opinions aren't facts and opinions don't change facts. Yes, it's okay to question if a fact is indeed a fact, but we must accept that a fact is a fact once it's proven, even if it's sometimes a tough pill to swallow.
  
  
• Anyone can drum up a source or "expert" to oppose a proven fact. Just because one hired shill says something is false doesn't make it so, especially when the 99 other experts are all in agreement. Remember, lots of lies and misinformation out there. If it flies in the face of common sense, rationality, and general consensus, it's probably bullcrap.
  
  
• Sometimes facts change with new information and discoveries, but that doesn't mean we can just dismiss any fact that doesn't fit our story. Just accept the current facts and we can all update together when necessary.
  
  
• Thankfully, we have a system of checks and balances, so no matter who is elected, the Apocalypse is probably not going to happen and things probably won't be anywhere near as bad as we think they'll be.

Down With IPAs

IPAs are gross and nasty. They suck and the IPA craze is stupid. It needs to stop and IPAs need to go away forever. The end.

...okay, fine, I'll explain.

Normally, I'm a huge advocate of "to each their own." Like what you want and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. And in return, let everyone else like what they want and don't try to tell them otherwise. Everyone wins and no one gets hurt.

But this IPA trend has gotten out of hand and it's ruining beer. People are getting hurt: the people that don't like IPAs. I'm not saying people shouldn't like IPAs; go right on ahead if it tickles your fancy, but it's become an overbearing presence on the beer stage. Go to a bar now and at least half of the draft options are IPAs. Go to a party and half the beers in the cooler are IPAs. Get offered a beer by someone and chances are its an IPA. 

All of that would is just fine and dandy if you like IPAs. If you don't, then your options are severely limited. I can't even count the number of times I've been downcast and disappointed trying to decide on a beer at a bar/party because the only option for the brand/country I want is a god damn IPA. All too often, there isn't an alternative choice for a draft beer from a country or brand. (Yes, I know there's always a wider selection of bottled beers, but it's draft or nothing and I shouldn't have to even explain why.)

I hardly even drink beer anymore and this is still a problem because that's how fucking much IPAs have taken over. Even if you have other options, those options are so few it's depressing. It's absolutely ludicrous that one beer style dominates at least half—if not more—of the offerings. That's completely unacceptable, especially considering I'm not the only damn person on this planet that hates IPAs. 

Almost every time I vociferously declare my hatred of IPAs, there's at least one other person in agreement. I am not alone and we are not that small a minority. There should and must be more options. So down with IPAs. It's time we take back our beer rights and get the choices we deserve!

Who The Heck Do We Listen To?

The older I get, the more I realize how important it is to carefully select who I listen to. I've always been open-minded enough to hear people out and consider what they've said before internally processing it and deciding whether or not to let it stick. When I was younger, I tended to give pretty much everyone equal weight and consideration. But as I've gotten older, I've learned to only listen to people who know what the hell they're talking about. I still try my best to hear everyone out, but I don't listen to everyone. 

Ideas, opinions, and advice are of serious importance because they have serious impact on our mental health, both conscious and subconscious. What we give credence to affects not just our own ideas and opinions, but also our perspective, mental habits, subconscious fallbacks, biases, prejudices, logic, and on and on and on. The ideas and beliefs that we are exposed to in society at large and family/friends at small are of the utmost importance because they help shape us, for better or worse.

Unfortunately, there are a lot of bad ideas out there. There always have been because humans are unbelievably fallible and stupid, not to mention psychological science still has a long way to go in understanding our brains. These days in particular, however, there are more bad ideas floating around than ever before thanks to the Information Age. The internet has allowed anyone and everyone a soapbox, and bad ideas spread faster than wildfire. Heck, faster than the speed of light...okay no, that's not true. The internet is not faster than the speed of light. It's just a metaphor, okay!

With so many bad ideas out there that can steer us in the wrong direction towards mental and emotional unwell-being, it's critical we use extreme caution when deciding whether or not to listen to what we're hearing. So, over the years I've gotten more adept at vetting people and information. I don't even have to consciously try hard. When hearing new ideas and information, without even thinking about it, I always ask myself, "Is this person an expert? Do they know what they're talking about?" If the answer is no, I might still hear them out, but I won't listen. I won't let it sink in (at the least I'll do my best since just hearing something a lot is enough to screw up our intuitive thinking thanks to associative memory and ease of recall).

Sometimes, the answer is obvious. If I'm reading or hearing any sort of self-help, self-improvement, life-coaching, relationship, parenting advice, etc...anything relating to mental and emotional health, if the source is not a trained psychologist or clearly citing valid and proven psychology, then I take it with a massive grain of salt. There is too much destructive advice out there to risk it. 

Plenty of other things are obvious as well. Career advice from someone who works professionally in recruiting or has a successful history of career coaching? Sure, I'll listen, otherwise it's just anecdotal nonsense from someone's own severely limited experience. Weightlifting form tip from a beefy personal trainer? Okay, thanks. From a random gym bro? Thanks, but I'll google that later.

While in a lot of cases it's obvious whether the source is an expert, sometimes it's just not clear or downright confusing. Several successfully married couples are giving me the same dating advice, but is that a universal truth or does it just work for their particular and unique relationships? Are their relationships behind closed doors even as successful as they appear to be? Golf swing advice from my dad who's a great golfer with years and years of experience: does that advice work for me and my body or just for him? Am I doing what he's suggesting or is something lost in translation? Can he see clearly the big picture of all that I'm doing wrong or just a small piece?

The waters get murky at times. They get clearer and more Carribean-blue with age, but confusion still abounds. So all I can do is come back to my heuristic: is this person an expert and do they know what they're talking about? If the answer is yes, then listen and process with great consideration. If the answer is no, then hear respectfully but don't let it sink in. If the answer is unclear, then take it with a grain of salt and google the heck out of it later to see if experts back it up.

With this method, hopefully, I'm reducing the amount of harmful ideas and information I let influence my intuitive and critical thinking, my conscious and subconscious mind and heart. At the very least, I've got my guard up and I'm doing the best that I can. There is too much at stake not to.

Whisky Wisdom Wednesday

Last week, I was rather fortunate to experience a bloody brilliant two-day Scotch tour of Speyside in Scotland as the bachelor party for a dear friend (thanks Fawaz!). Our Scotch expert and official "Keeper of the Quaich" guide, Ronnie, was a delightful expat Israeli turned kilt-wearing Scotsman who educated us and destroyed our livers with 32 different whiskies in just two days. 

Before this trip, though still a noob with many distilleries left to cross off my whisky bucket list, I already knew a decent amount about whisky, having devoured The Ultimate Book of Whiskey over the winter holiday after being gifted it for Christmas (thanks AGP!). But, I was by no means an expert. After two days with Ronnie cramming as much information about the history, science, and art of whisky into our brains as possible, I'm still not an expert, but I know enough now to act snobbish!

I learned many new things and was reminded of things I had previously learned but forgotten. I've compiled the most memorable nuggets of knowledge and wisdom to share. Most of the science has already gone in one ear and out the other, so this is mostly the practical stuff—that's good to know for buying and consuming—and interesting anecdotes/factoids that have stuck with me:

Distillin' like a villain!

• Distilling is science. Blending is art.
  
  
• There is no best brand, style or age. Everyone has different palates and preferences. You might like light and smooth whiskies or smokey and peaty whiskies. You might like single malts or blends. You might like younger or older whiskies. It doesn't matter; if it tastes good to you, it's good whisky. Don't let anyone ever tell you what you like isn't good.
  
  

  

  They're keepin' it old school up in Speyside.

• America and Ireland use the spelling "whiskey" with plural "whiskeys." Scotland, Canada, Japan and pretty much the rest of the world use "whisky" with plural "whiskies." (Since I was on a Scotch whisky tour, I'm going with the Scottish spelling for this post.)
  
  
• It can only be labeled "Scotch Whisky" if it's distilled and bottled in Scotland and follows a set of regulations, most notably being aged in oak barrels for at least three years and no added substances (other than caramel coloring).
  
  
  

• The proper way to nose the whisky is to smell through your nose with your mouth open.
  
  
• The proper glass for tasting, nosing, and just plain appreciating good whisky—endorsed by the Scotch Whisky Association and seen above—is a Glencairn glass. But, if you must have your whisky soiled with ice cubes, a tumbler is okay. You're depriving yourself of getting the most out of it, however. (Told you I get to be a snob now!)
  
  
  

• Unless it's labeled as Cask Strength, all whisky has been "cut," aka watered down, to lower the alcohol level, usually from 60(ish)% to 40(ish)%. So, when drinking cask strength, don't forget it has much higher alcohol content than usual!
  
  
• Single Malt doesn't mean it comes from a single cask. Multiple casks are used to achieve the desired taste and consistency. It just means it's malt whisky from only one distillery. Whiskies that do come from one cask are labeled Single Cask.
  
  
• Blended Whisky means it's a blend of malt and other grains. Blended Malt means it's a blend of only malts and is far less common.
  
  
• Age statements indicate the age of the youngest whisky in the blend. There are most certainly older whiskies in the mix.
  
  

  

  Somewhere in here the Ark of the Whiskyent is hidden...

• Historically, a dram was a small teaspoon. So, when you ask a bartender for a dram of whisky, you're not actually asking for a dram. You'd be right sodded off if that's all they gave you!
  
  
• After it's been distilled but before it's aged, it's completely colorless and tastes pretty similar to vodka. It's not whisky yet, because it can't even be called that until it's aged in barrels for at least three years. It's called New Make Spirit. It gains its color and flavor from the wood of the barrels, and that is what makes whisky, whisky.
  
  

  

  Whisky goggles.

• Color doesn't matter. It only indicates what kind of barrels were used to age it and how long it has aged. It indicates character, not quality. In general, if it's lighter in color, it was aged in American white oak. If it's darker in color, it was aged in European oak.
  
  
• Aging in American oak ex-bourbon barrels is the most popular choice because, by US law, bourbon barrels can only be used once, so distilleries can acquire that sweet American white oak for much, much cheaper than European Oak. Recently, aging in a variety of ex-alcohol barrels to get unique flavors has become more and more popular as distilleries strive to brand and distinguish themselves from the competition.
  
  
• Age statements, even for single malts, are slowly going out of favor in Scotland and Europe as the color ranking system takes over (like Johnnie Walker's Red, Black, Gold, Green, and Blue), thanks to a shortage of older whiskies in a world where whisky is increasingly in demand. Apparently, only us Americans are still obsessed with age statements.
  
  

  

  Fermenting that sweet mash.

• Any distillery making claims about how their exclusive water supply gives it its distinctive flavor is blowing smoke up your ass. No delicate flavor profiles of its water source make it through the distilling process. It's all marketing bullcrap.
  
  
• Coopers, the makers and fixers of barrels, have to apprentice for four years and are paid per barrel. If you ever have the chance to see them at work, do so. It's fascinating; they are highly skilled and amazingly fast.
  
  

  

  The cooper on the far left is the fastest at the cooperage because he doesn't talk to anyone while on shift. Ever.

When Publishing Rights Go Wrong

I'm tearing my hair out after wasting about three hours trying to find a way to get the original UK editions of Harry Potter for my Kindle. Despite the fact that J.K. Rowling owns the digital rights to her work, she and her company decided to respect the territorial rights of the print publishers. So, U.S. customers can only buy the U.S. version of the text as published in print by Scholastic.

If you don't know what I'm talking about, Scholastic altered J.K. Rowling's text to Americanize some of the British slang, terminology, and spellings. For example, "jumper" becomes "sweater" and "pitch" becomes "field." It's not major or drastic, and it's not like there are changes on every page, but they did it enough that I (and other purists) feel it negatively impacts the reading experience. It may be subtle, but it feels decidedly less British. 

It might seem silly to others, but just being aware of the differences means I can be taken out of the moment when encountering them. There's an experience of cognitive dissonance when British characters or the British narrator are using American slang and you know they shouldn't be. It takes away from the charm of British culture, and I want to experience that culture because experiencing other cultures is an important part of what makes storytelling—and reading in particular—great.

Plus, it feels wrong to bastardize the author's voice, even if the author approved it. It's understandable to a degree, as Scholastic originally needed to market and sell to American children what was then a kid's book from an unknown author. Sure, it made sense to change "revising" to "studying" since most American kids didn't know what revising was back then. It was the early stages of the internet; googling wasn't even a thing. Localizing the language made sense then, but times have changed. 

It's now second nature to google anything you don't know, so there's really no need to localize the slang when it's so easy to look up. Heck, kids might have to google other non-localized words anyway. And heck, there's all sorts of British media kids can consume on Netflix that don't have special Americanized dialogue versions. Not to mention that exposing kids (and adults) to other cultures is a good thing and thinking they're not capable of that is incredibly condescending.

So while I respect J.K. Rowling's decision to honor the print publisher's territory, and I respect that publishers made choices to localize the text that made sense at the time, times have changed and it doesn't make any sense not to allow readers the choice of which version they want to read. If the print publishers are getting a cut of the profit, fine, then give the cut to the publisher of the territory the purchaser is from regardless of which version they choose. Problem solved. Considering I was freely allowed to buy the UK print versions online or overseas and import them back to the U.S., it's absolutely absurd I can't purchase the UK versions digitally too.

This may very well seem ridiculous to others to be upset or stressed about. Fair enough. At the end of the day, the story is still the same and it's still awesome, wildly engrossing, and emotionally impactful. Hell, my first reads of five of the books were the American versions, and that didn't stop me from getting lost in them. However, I've grown accustomed to the UK versions now, and my crazy brain will know the difference if I ever read the American versions again, and it will momentarily disengage to grumpily groan over the language because I know no British kid would ever be caught dead saying soccer instead of football and I just can't take it! So why do that to me, J.K. Rowling, Pottermore, and Scholastic? Just let me have the version I want.     

Life Is A Waterfall

Upon one of my epic all-day hikes of Mount Wilson, I found myself staring at Sturtevant Falls and really taking it in for once. I'd seen it many times; it's the first resting point along my 14-mile journey. I'd appreciated it before, but usually only momentarily before getting lost in thought again. I'd never truly appreciated it until that day when I really looked at it with relaxed but dedicated focus. 

I discovered there were only two ways to appreciate its beauty: as a whole or zero in on one singular part. With billions of water molecules, millions of droplets, and thousands of streams all rushing by at breakneck speed, there were just too many elements to be able to appreciate more than one at a time. It was easy to enjoy them all in concert together, taking in the big picture of the whole greater than the sum of its parts. But to enjoy the parts, I had to focus on only one, not only because my monkey brain can only focus on one thing at a time, but also because they moved quickly and were soon gone forever. 

Both the whole and its parts offered great beauty to behold, and both were completely different, as was the beauty different parts offered. I softly took in the tall towering tale of the entire waterfall and felt like I was staring at a moving painting. I looked at individual cascades composed of countless ever-flowing and ever-changing droplets, fascinated by speed and infinity. I watched a bubble form at the bottom of the waterfall, slowly travel towards me and then down the creek to pass forever out of sight, laughing in joy at such a small story I'd never bothered to notice before. Each experience was utterly and delightfully unique.

As I pondered these observations about the waterfall, it suddenly occurred to me it is a perfect metaphor for life. Just as there were billions of water molecules and it was impossible to observe them all, there are billions of people on Earth and it's impossible to meet them all, to get to know them all, and see all their journeys. Although we meet a great host of people, connect and forge lots of various relationships, there will always be billions we never know. So many stories we'll never get to see and hear that all offer great depths of beauty. Like all the droplets, everyone and their stories are soon gone forever. Yet, in their place, new people with new stories arrive, often treading very similar paths like the streams of the waterfall. In addition to people, there is a seemingly endless amount of beauty in the world thanks to art and nature, and it's impossible to observe it all. 

The people, places, and things we do get to appreciate are forever rushing by, not only because they have a shelf-life, but also because they are always changing. Nothing and no one ever stays the same, just as the water molecules didn't ever stop and stay in place. Nature, life, people, and art are always on the move. Change is the only constant. A waterfall wouldn't be a waterfall if it wasn't in a constant state of flowing change. Knowing that every moment of beauty is unique because the next moment will be different is what makes things truly beautiful. 

Even pieces of art that objectively remain the same are always subjectively different, not only between different people, but between different versions of ourselves. As we grow and change, we experience familiar things differently. Not even art can resist the flow of the waterfall.

No matter how many individual parts we are able to observe and appreciate in our lifetime, the whole is always available for admiration. We can not know the amount of beauty there is in the world but can still be overwhelmed by it. We can not know every person but we can know humanity. We don't have to see everything to know that everything is worth seeing.

Not all big pictures are quite so big, either. There are countless smaller big pictures ripe for consideration. We don't need to analyze every player to enjoy the brilliance of a team. We can walk away from a beloved television series with a handful of big long-lasting emotional lessons after seeing hundreds of episodes, each with its own small soon-forgotten lessons. We can not know all there is to know about a person but can still see their soul clearly.

Forrest Gump was wrong. Life isn't like a box of chocolates, it's like a waterfall. It is a beautiful, chaotic, always flowing, and always changing waterfall. There is simply too much to be able to take it all in and acknowledge or appreciate every unique element. All we can do is be thankful for the parts we do get to see and know personally, and occasionally take a step back to enjoy the big picture.