The habits of history

I wrote last week about my feelings about the past, particularly with reference to my personal history. In this piece I want to show the flipside of that situation in a way that isn’t contradictory or hypocritical. It might be a delicate balancing act, or it might be that I’m overthinking it, but I’m consciously aware of the way I frame this in relation to that other piece. Whereas I feel challenged by dealing with things from my personal history, I feel comforted and reassured by the idea of collective history.

Essentially what brought me to the study of history was that I wanted to learn from the stories of the human race. I wanted to know the errors we had committed in the past in order to not repeat them in the future. Here’s a spoiler for those who haven’t studied history - we committed a lot of errors. We try to learn, we make more mistakes and the cycle begins again. Somehow, what be becomes most revealing is the cycle itself. Many things in our lives are constantly changing around us, but some things stay the same. Those things are a source of comfort to us, I think. These are the habits of human history.

I love going to watch live sport, particularly AFL and soccer. When I get on the train to go to a game, I think about the millions of people who have done the same thing over decades, perhaps as long as a century, to go and watch their team. I think of the people who paid with their meagre wages, stood in the rain and yelled until their voices were hoarse. I think of players and fans that have continually returned to a place like the Melbourne Cricket Ground. These experiences cut across decades and generations; whether you experienced them at fifteen years old or ninety-five, it doesn’t matter. Millions of people have come and continue to come to this exact spot to be a part of something bigge than the individual. People talk about sport being a religion here in Melbourne, I think it’s deeper. It’s spiritual.

It can be less tangible than that, even. Any time someone plays their first chord on a piano, walks into their first university lecture, signs the lease papers on their first apartment or proposes to their partner, all the feelings that they are going through are old. The fear, the uncertainty, the existential questions you have to face in these situations - these are all things humans have been through an infinite amount of times. When you hear that nagging sense of doubt in the back of your head in times like these, seek comfort in the notion that many others went through the same thing. When you are done, you’ll not only be a more complete person but you will have a little bit more insight to offer those who are standing on the other side of the river.

History is not just about what leaders do, it’s also about what people go through every day and the way they cope with those things. We call these things ‘rites of passage’ or ‘traditions’, but I wonder if we’ve thought enough about what makes us rever a particular action in this way. Sometimes comfort is a symptom of stagnancy and laziness, and sometimes it’s just a sign that we truly care about something.

Almost none of our experiences are specific to us in any real sense. To some, this revelation can be disappointing. Often it can seems we are treading a well worn, predefined path rather than breaking new ground for ourselves. But being a member of society means sharing these experiences with one another, and I think that’s pretty meaningful.

The smallest details

Until recently I hadn’t thought about things this way, but now it’s dawned on me I’ll probably never see things the same way again. Here’s my realisation: everything we come across that wasn’t made by nature has been designed by people and refined by people; invisible examples of decisions made by other people surround us all day, every day. How often do we stop and think about why some of these seemingly tiny decisions were made? Up until recently, I hardly ever did. Now I think about these things a lot.

People who make things - engineers, programmers, designers, tradesmen, artists - put a lot of thought into their work. They think about what their creation is meant to do, who it is meant for, and how people are supposed to use it. Each one of these choices impacts profoundly on the end product that we use or consume. People are making decisions for us constantly, and when we make a purchase what we are implicitly saying is that we think this tool will be the correct one for a job I need to do.

Think about a pen you often use. Pens are one of the most ubiquitous items in Western culture. There are seemingly infinite variety of pens avaiable. There are luxurious fountain pens and cheap biros. They write in many colours - most commonly red, blue, green and black. Some have round barrels, some have hexagonal ones. Some have lids, some are retractable. Every single aspect of every pen ever created was a product of decisions made by other people. The sound your car door makes when you close it? The car company closed it a thousand times, recorded it and changed it over time. The alarm that sounds when you leave your fridge door open too long? A great idea, and a decision that someone had to make in order for it to become a reality. It might even be the case that the more obvious something seems, the more time and effort went into making it that way.

When I first started writing for this site, I assumed that I’d use the tool that I’d always used to write: Microsoft Word. I knew how to use it, it had more than enough power to do what I wanted and I already had it on my computers. But it soon became clear to me it wasn’t the right tool for this job. I didn’t need complex formatting, a million fonts or different design options. What I needed was a way to get words from my head into my devices as simply as possible. I also needed to be able to get the words out and onto my site quickly and easily. After downloading too many programs over a week or two, I settled on an app called Byword. No program can make your writing better directly, but using this tool I’m writing more words, in more places, and I’m publishing things faster. There can be no question that it has had a profound if indirect impact on my work.

The people that made your fridge, pen and car door thought about those little things a lot. If you’re experiencing friction with something you use regularly, it might be because you’re using the wrong tool for the job. Here’s what I’ve realised - even the tiniest details matter. A lot of thought has gone into almost everything you lay your hands on. Whether you’re overjoyed, indifferent or infuriated with something, know that everything is the product of a million tiny decisions made by other people. It may or may not be of any comfort to you, but it might substantially change the way you look at things going forward. Next time you pick something up, ask yourself why that thing is the way it is.

Ready to go

Right now, I’m feeling really inspired about a project I’m working on, more inspired than I’ve been for a while, actually.

I begin to get this feeling when I can see a project taking shape in my head. When the big pieces are there and I just need to start putting them together. Some things I can do myself, some things will have to be contributed by others. I start putting lists together, thinking about possibilities and options. I have questions that will need answers, things I will need to learn. These things will buzz around in my head almost incessantly.

It’s really easy to be enthusiastic at the beginning of something, particularly when you haven’t really started. When the reality of the amount of time things are going to take and the stuff you will need to do set in, it can be intimidating. All in all though, I feel I’m in a good place to do this project right now.

On my studio desk, there’s a old notepad that I’ve had for years that I scrawl notes on. Writing everything down is so useful because I know that when I sit down that I’ll have something to work on. Getting straight to business instead of fiddling can mean the difference between a wasted opportunity and a breakthrough.

I always feel like the best way to learn something is by doing, and few things motivate you to do those things than working on something you are passionate about. Flicking through tutorials and manuals is fine, but it’s all so abstracted until you have a specific problem you need to fix to continue to move forward. It becomes so important that you just have to keep looking to find the solution. If I learn five new things about mixing and recording from this process, it will have been completely worth it. The chances are that I’ll probably learn fifty things.

The last time I worked on creating a bunch of songs, I wasn’t as busy as I am now. This time, though, I am more aware of the importance of making the best of my available time and I’m so much more aware of the importance of getting things done - finishing things that I love, things that I will be proud of. I’ve got a lot to prove to myself and others in this regard. I have to prove I can work this through to the end, that I can do this really well.

I have days where I’m desperate to try something new. I love to experiment with things I haven’t done before. It’s always fun, but it’s led to me being terribly unfocused in the past. That’s why now I’ve picked a couple of things that I love and am knuckling down. Words, songs, photos. That’s it. This site, my two bands, and my photos. I still believe that some truly great artists can do many things exceptionally, but I’m not at that level. That’s a concession, but not an admission of failure. Call it a reality check. If I want to be great, which I desperately do, I need to be disciplined.

I suspect that this process will provide much inspiration for these pages. Right now it’s early days, but I’m excited. It’s a pretty good feeling.