Snippetry

I was just doing some stretching and at the same time meditating about “modern times” (yes, admittedly one of my favorite topics - a sign of getting old...?). Being a singer/songwriter myself I often find my thoughts wandering into the realms of art. This time a vivid memory of a circus performance I had seen years ago presented itself to my inner eye: Wrapped in the smells of popcorn, rubber, sweat and expectations I was enthralled by what I saw - the seeming limitlessness of what we can do with our bodies and minds. When had I last been so deeply fascinated by a performance?
The internet (namely youtube) offers an endless stream of videos of people doing all kinds of tricks and stunts, but most of them aren’t more than a few minutes long. So that if I do watch them I always feel somehow ... cheated. By the time I’ve gotten into whatever I’m watching it’s already over. And I keep asking myself “What is missing?” The answer is simple: the proper frame. When you go to the circus or a classical concert you take with you a set of expectations (so-called preframes because they predetermine how you’re going to judge the upcoming event) which in turn put you in a certain state of mind (in this example hopefully excitement and the thrill of anticipation). All of this is then enhanced by what you take in through your senses - i.e. the sight of the beautiful concert hall and the dressed-up audience or the smell of the food sold in the circus tent etc. And that’s already half the battle. Because everything you see, think and feel tells you: Forget your life for a bit and let them take you away to a different world. It’s like dreaming - your other mind (the symbolic, unconscious, creative one, some people would say your right hemisphere) takes over, you don’t have to consciously think any more. Two or three hours later the performance is over and you switch the conscious mind back on (the one that’s using language to communicate). If the acrobats or the musicians or the actors have done a good job you probably still feel a bit disconnected from reality, but more connected to your feelings. At least I do.
Now you might ask: And what does all of this have to do with psychology? And what the hell does snippetry mean?? (If you do, you are very nicely supporting my reasoning as you will see in a moment, so read on.) As much as I love cell phones and the internet for the vast array of possibilities to communicate, learn and connect that they offer I am also convinced that they are responsible for the modern disease of hacking everything into small pieces for the sake of saving time maybe or just because we can, who knows. This I call snippetry. (Your assumed impatience would be a direct consequence of the snippetry culture.) And this doesn’t only apply to the arts, but to virtually everything: Conversations are being reduced to a ping pong of text bits consisting of 140 characters, food is inhaled in short 5-minute pit stops to refuel for the next round of busy something-or-other and working out is squeezed into lunch break or banned to summer vacation. By doing this we deprive ourselves of what I would describe as mini-retreats for our conscious mind. Because when we lose ourselves in the joy of eating, cooking, music, the intimacy of an old friendship or simply the rhythm of walking we actually allow our horizon to broaden, our thinking to momentarily turn away from everyday worries and to let in other feelings and images. When we savor food or feel grass wet with dew underneath our feet we reestablish the connection to our bodies; when we let ourselves be drawn into a movie, piece of music or painting we allow the thought that there is more out there than the job we have and the places and people we know to enter our minds and maybe spark the desire to venture out of the confines of our familiar surroundings, both physically and emotionally. It doesn’t work without the proper frames, though. So make sure snippetry doesn’t destroy them.