Layers of Abstraction
How much of my daily life is lived through layers of abstraction?
I was thinking recently about all the products I use where I don't understand how they function, the systems I interact with that existed before I was born where I have no knowledge of how they came to be, and habits I act on that I know are beneficial but don't understand why. I know we like to talk about the complexity of the modern world—and that's not wrong—but I still want to stay curious about how and why things work the way they do.
When I communicate with friends and family, it's often through a platform. I might text a friend to schedule that night out; I might email a company to follow up on an order; I might Facetime a family member to hear about their recent vacation. In all of these situations, I'm not communicating directly with the person on the other end; I'm using an intermediary. That intermediary shapes how I communicate and implements certain technical and design decisions about how the communication should take place.
When I leave my house, I'm interacting with a vast system of roads, signals, cars, bikes and pedestrians. It's a blizzard of chaotic activity, and yet I don't really understand how it developed. I get frustrated when I look ahead at a stream of blinking brake lights and know that it will take that much longer to park my car and return to a deliberate slower pace on my feet.
When I brush my teeth, I know I'm taking care of my dental hygiene. I floss to keep my gums healthy and to remove the discomfort of that kale bit that refuses to escape the dreaded gap. But why are all these things beneficial? What does the dentist understand about how food and the environment interact with my mouth that I am oblivious of?
There is so much complexity in my daily life, and I don't want to explode my brain by just ruminating on every small detail. I do, however, want to remember to prioritize direct experience wherever possible. A beautiful photo of our trip to Yosemite can remind me of the peace I felt as the snow blanketed the trees outside the windows. I can look forward to the next time I lift a mug of warm tea and look upon it with my own eyes.