How willing are we, as humans, to embrace change? As we discussed recently, the Luddites weren’t that impressed with change, especially change of the technological variety. But, it would seem as though our society is extremely preoccupied, and undoubtedly in a great many fashions, with the notion of “change.” Within the political sphere, change (i.e. progressive policies and legislation which work to better suit the current socioeconomic climate) oftentimes plays a critical role in garnering support. Our last great ‘national debate’ centered, at times, around the concept of change (e.g. “A Change We Can Believe In”). The desirability of change is implicit not only within the political realm but within others as well. Think about the way in which both you and I take up with life on a daily basis. Many of our daily activities are subject to our own preference for change. Take our food, for instance. Our daily diets are composed of a variety of forms of nourishment, as they should be. Moreover, our capricious taste, in and of itself, frequently orders up change; in fact, our tastes often demand change. Reactions to ‘leftovers’ demonstrate my point here. Our fondness for an array of food choices usually leads us to reject even a kind offering of last night’s meatloaf and potatoes. Isn’t that interesting, how our predilections for certain foods immediately change after we partake of those foods? Now, I know that there are definitely exceptions to the “leftover principle,” but the point is well taken, I think. We don’t want the same old “Hexagrain Crisps” (i.e. off-brand Chex Cereal) every morning for breakfast. That’s why we usually add yogurt and granola or change our cereal choice to Cinnamon Toast Crunch every now and then. We relish change. The absence thereof gets quite monotonous after a while. Just think about your own home. How many changes has your house gone through during the time in which you have resided in it? If I scraped through the paint on your walls, would I encounter varying colors the deeper I dug? What about the evolution of your room? Just think about how much time, not to mention the energy, you have spent rearranging your room. Over the course of my 15 years in my current house, I do believe that my bed has touched every wall in my room at one time or another. What about something even as simple as your bed sheets? Disney prints are usually popular selections for kids at first. As we age, we outgrow Princess Jasmine and Aladdin and move on to other themes, maybe of the animal or sports variety. However, we soon come to outgrow even the lion or baseball bat and adopt the mild, tone-matched, sheet pattern which may or may not possess an affinity towards stripes. Our common usage of the word “outgrow” here within this context is really interesting if you think about it. When we change our sheets, we usually don’t physically outgrow the linens we replace. We do, however, outgrow them from a dispositional standpoint. Our idea of what we once thought was rather cool has changed. Our aptness to outgrow certain things betrays our preference for change. Even when we’re older, we often welcome a fresh change of scenery, pace, and lifestyle. Within the digital and electronic world, humanity usually welcomes those changes which disburden us from the taxing qualities of older devices and appliances. It would seem as though we can’t escape change any more than we could flee from our own emotions and tastes.
However I’m perplexed, because a great many times in our lives we aren’t very open to change, and the power of this force seems, at times, equal to or greater than that of our affection for change. Although the label “set in their ways” is frequently applied to an older generation, I would argue that many younger men and women are just as comfortable with the static state of certain areas of their life. I would even go so far as to argue that a little Luddite, be it small or large, exists within each and every one of us.
At times, I’ll admit…I don’t like change. I remember as I kid, my family would always visit my paternal grandparents for Thanksgiving. Our Thanksgiving meal would always be composed of certain home-cooked staples: broccoli casserole, from-scratch mashed potatoes, green beans, lightly brown-sugared yams, fall-off-the-bone turkey, corn pudding, buttered rolls, and (of course) grandma’s homemade macaroni and cheese. The meal, however, usually played second fiddle when we actually sat down to eat together because conversation and familial remembering would take over, permeating the air and tightening the intimate bonds which were already closely knit. I recall those days and lament the fact that they have long since passed. I possess a certain antipathy towards change in this instance. Hostility to change can even take place, contrary to what is commonly propounded, within the technological domain; and here is where the Luddite within us peaks forth. Once again, an example from my childhood seems to beckon my telling it. As a kid, my cousins and I would always write letters to one another several times a year, most likely because they only visited once or twice in that same time span. Nothing was more exciting than opening a letter from my cousins. What stickers would they stick on the letter? What little magazine cut-outs would they place in the envelope? The suspense and sheer eagerness of opening that envelope and unfolding that tangible piece of stationary was always thrilling. And would you know it…I don’t ever get that same feeling when I open an e-mail.
Why?
Is it because of the transient and nearly ethereal constitution of the e-mail? Is it because of the lack of personality inherent in any regimented form of digital correspondence? Or is it because not enough time has accrued between my opening of the last message and the present one to fill me with anticipation? I would likely argue that all of these serve as ostensible reasons for my fondness of written mail. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the rapidity and ease of electronic communication, I do; it’s more likely that I appreciate the breadth of experience which comes with opening postal letters. I miss my pen pal days. I miss the days where people would actually communicate in writing. I know of very few instances where people still send handwritten letters to one another. The rise of the internet and cellular phone during my lifetime has negated the need to communicate via “snail-mail.” Swiftly approaching is the day when humanity will no longer correspond by means of handwritten, mailed letters. Although I’m not technophobic, and hence probably not a committed Luddite in the truest sense of the term, I am definitely more resistant to change in this area than in various others. Why are we sometimes resistant to change? Is it because of sentimentality? Probably more times than not. I will admit that, in both of my examples above, my resistance to change was due to a preoccupation with a certain degree of a sentimental nature. Those things and circumstances which become deeply enmeshed with our emotions and most sensitive feelings are those which oftentimes call us to resist any events which would jeopardize their continued existence. We don’t want to change those things to which we have become attached. The Luddite in me, at times, says “Keep the snail-mail.” What does the Luddite in you say?
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