I want things. I think you should want things too. Some people I talk to seem to have a hard time wanting things.
I have yet to ever actually transmit how I want things to someone else's head. I don't especially expect this to version work unless we happen to be fairly similar people, but I'm interested in feedback for future attempts.
I.
As I'm writing this I sit in my chair and pause for a moment, listening. There's a little echo of someone else in the room typing. There's a bit of tension in my neck. I can feel the roof of my mouth against my tongue. There's some music playing over my headphones, sprinkling notes of a piano. The light is soft and diffuse throughout the room. The temperature is a touch higher than I'd prefer, air playing across the skin of my hands and face as I shift position.
Lots of sense data comes in, and then I ask, what do I want?
It'd be nice to drink some water. I'm not dehydrated, but I picture the cool liquid flow filling the spaces in my mouth, and I prefer that imaginary picture to my present. My imagination of the physical sensation is fairly detailed and complete. I reach out and grab my water bottle for a drink.
I'm flicking through lots of imaginary futures, overlaying them on top of my present. What would it be like to press my palms against the top of the table, feeling the plastic. What it would be like to to lean back in my chair, my weight shifting and the spring of the chair pushing back? What would it be like to roll my head around, stretching it?
As you're reading this, do you feel any discomfort? Anything missing, or that would feel better to change?
I can project this imagination into stranger circumstances and farther in the future.
II.
For me, wanting things and going after what I want is like a ball rolling downhill. I mostly have to spend willpower not to do it, but there's ways to decrease the friction.
One question I often ask people is what they would do with a Sunday afternoon and twenty dollars.
I deliberately leave myself in this situation often. I usually wander towards parks and other open green spaces. I like to run for a little then flop on my back in the grass. Ever since I got a good pair of headphones I've filled my ears on time off with great books being read to me or soundtracks from video games I love. During the summers I make my way to swimming holes where I can jump in. All of those are easy for me now; my headphones are on the hook by the door, there's a park within five minutes, and there's swimming holes in fifteen minutes bike.
Another question I often ask is what they wanted to do when they were five, or ten. I'd talk about what I wanted to do when I was five but it was mostly run in parks, get read books, and go swimming.
Beware trivial inconveniences. At some point there were more frictions to getting what I want; when I was kid I had to talk my parents into reading to me if I wanted read to. Then I upgraded and got books on tape and a big tape player. Then technology advanced, and now listening to a book is as easy as unlocking my phone and then hitting one button.
A Sunday afternoon and twenty bucks is pretty affordable for me? I'm not saying spend tons of time and money trying to buy ever nicer and nicer days. I basically don't think that strategy works. You'll notice that lying in the grass and re-listening to Redwall for the hundredth time is pretty cheap, because I already have a copy of Redwall.
A contender for the LessWrong essay that was most impactful on me was Alicorn's Ureshiku Naritai. It's an inspiring piece, and perhaps someday I'll write my implementation down.
I decided that I had to and wanted to become happier; I re-labeled my moods and approached their management accordingly; and I consistently treated my mood maintenance and its support behaviors (including discovering new techniques) as immensely important.
III.
If you aren't trying to be happy right now. . . why not?
That's not a gotcha or a rhetorical question. Perhaps there's some other purpose to your actions, or you're making some kind of sacrifice right now that you think will pay off later, or you just kind of don't accept happiness as a thing.
I've talked to some people who complain that they get out of work, go home, and then just kind of browse social media until they realize it's time to sleep. That describes more than a handful of people who have said a variation on that sentence to my face. I am pretty baffled.
Like, my phone is set up so that it takes three clicks to get to twitter, and one click to get to whatever fiction novel I was last reading. I have never had more fun reading twitter for an hour than reading Brandon Sanderson for an hour. What gives?
I want to be happy, and take that as my default goal. It's what I'm doing whenever not otherwise engaged in some kind of work or long term build up. And so, sitting in my chair, constantly sifting through ways the world could be and what they'd feel like, I get about thirty seconds into reading twitter before thinking "huh, reading a novel sounds better, why don't I just do that instead?" and switching. Sometimes that will eat an evening, and sometimes after a few minutes I'll realize going to the park and lying on the grass sounds more fun than sitting in my office chair.
If there's a catchphrase or sazen I want to install in your head at this point, it's from Alicorn's Luminosity:
What do I want? What do I have? How can I best use the latter to get the former?
I want things. I think you should want things too. Some people I talk to seem to have a hard time wanting things.
I have yet to ever actually transmit how I want things to someone else's head. I don't especially expect this to version work unless we happen to be fairly similar people, but I'm interested in feedback for future attempts.
I.
As I'm writing this I sit in my chair and pause for a moment, listening. There's a little echo of someone else in the room typing. There's a bit of tension in my neck. I can feel the roof of my mouth against my tongue. There's some music playing over my headphones, sprinkling notes of a piano. The light is soft and diffuse throughout the room. The temperature is a touch higher than I'd prefer, air playing across the skin of my hands and face as I shift position.
Lots of sense data comes in, and then I ask, what do I want?
It'd be nice to drink some water. I'm not dehydrated, but I picture the cool liquid flow filling the spaces in my mouth, and I prefer that imaginary picture to my present. My imagination of the physical sensation is fairly detailed and complete. I reach out and grab my water bottle for a drink.
I'm flicking through lots of imaginary futures, overlaying them on top of my present. What would it be like to press my palms against the top of the table, feeling the plastic. What it would be like to to lean back in my chair, my weight shifting and the spring of the chair pushing back? What would it be like to roll my head around, stretching it?
As you're reading this, do you feel any discomfort? Anything missing, or that would feel better to change?
I can project this imagination into stranger circumstances and farther in the future.
II.
For me, wanting things and going after what I want is like a ball rolling downhill. I mostly have to spend willpower not to do it, but there's ways to decrease the friction.
One question I often ask people is what they would do with a Sunday afternoon and twenty dollars.
I deliberately leave myself in this situation often. I usually wander towards parks and other open green spaces. I like to run for a little then flop on my back in the grass. Ever since I got a good pair of headphones I've filled my ears on time off with great books being read to me or soundtracks from video games I love. During the summers I make my way to swimming holes where I can jump in. All of those are easy for me now; my headphones are on the hook by the door, there's a park within five minutes, and there's swimming holes in fifteen minutes bike.
Another question I often ask is what they wanted to do when they were five, or ten. I'd talk about what I wanted to do when I was five but it was mostly run in parks, get read books, and go swimming.
Beware trivial inconveniences. At some point there were more frictions to getting what I want; when I was kid I had to talk my parents into reading to me if I wanted read to. Then I upgraded and got books on tape and a big tape player. Then technology advanced, and now listening to a book is as easy as unlocking my phone and then hitting one button.
A Sunday afternoon and twenty bucks is pretty affordable for me? I'm not saying spend tons of time and money trying to buy ever nicer and nicer days. I basically don't think that strategy works. You'll notice that lying in the grass and re-listening to Redwall for the hundredth time is pretty cheap, because I already have a copy of Redwall.
A contender for the LessWrong essay that was most impactful on me was Alicorn's Ureshiku Naritai. It's an inspiring piece, and perhaps someday I'll write my implementation down.
III.
If you aren't trying to be happy right now. . . why not?
That's not a gotcha or a rhetorical question. Perhaps there's some other purpose to your actions, or you're making some kind of sacrifice right now that you think will pay off later, or you just kind of don't accept happiness as a thing.
I've talked to some people who complain that they get out of work, go home, and then just kind of browse social media until they realize it's time to sleep. That describes more than a handful of people who have said a variation on that sentence to my face. I am pretty baffled.
Like, my phone is set up so that it takes three clicks to get to twitter, and one click to get to whatever fiction novel I was last reading. I have never had more fun reading twitter for an hour than reading Brandon Sanderson for an hour. What gives?
I want to be happy, and take that as my default goal. It's what I'm doing whenever not otherwise engaged in some kind of work or long term build up. And so, sitting in my chair, constantly sifting through ways the world could be and what they'd feel like, I get about thirty seconds into reading twitter before thinking "huh, reading a novel sounds better, why don't I just do that instead?" and switching. Sometimes that will eat an evening, and sometimes after a few minutes I'll realize going to the park and lying on the grass sounds more fun than sitting in my office chair.
If there's a catchphrase or sazen I want to install in your head at this point, it's from Alicorn's Luminosity: