I’m still wrestling with Twitter and its value proposition. I remain decidedly undecided about its role in my future.

The reason I began tweeting in February of 2008 was because I thought Twitter was a new “micro blogging” platform. It was meant to be a place for my short bursts of pithiness to be captured and cataloged, much like a blog, without all the words. Twitter would force me to write using a limited amount of characters which in turn would sharpen my languishing communication skills.

I never gave much thought to people actually “following” me on Twitter because much like this personal blog, from what I can gather, very few pay attention to what I’m saying. This doesn’t bother me because, for the most part, I chose to blog (and tweet) for me, not you. The conversation or community that comes from anything I write–outside of my ‘professional’ writing–is simply an accoutrement. For me, comments, conversations and connections are pleasant additions, not intrinsic motivations.

Twitter quickly turned into something much more than I bargained for. People began replying to things I said, I replied to them, I followed others, and soon I found myself spending more time than I should be participating in a virtual washing machine that seemed to have a never-ending spin cycle.

I love technology and hate it at the same time, especially digital communication platforms. My struggles are no secret.

There is a part of me that still wants to come back to Twitter because it can still accomplish what I originally wanted it to. I’m just a little reluctant because I don’t want to be the guy who is always talking and never listening. The guy who seems more interested in his own thoughts than those of others.

I’m probably thinking about this too much which is clearly a sign of other issues that I have not yet dealt with or medicated.

You may wonder why I would even write a post like this if I’m not writing it for anyone else. I say to you, my unknown anonymous voyeuristic friend, stay tuned. There is much more where this comes from.

In North America, 65 percent of us spend more time with our computer than with our spouse.

Once you get past feeling like a geek for reading a book about e-mail, John Freeman’s The Tyranny of E-mail: The Four-Thousand-Year Journey to Your Inbox, is everything I needed and nothing I expected. Freeman does a fantastic job of telling the story about the history of communication, pausing along the way to analyze the social and psychological implications for how we communicate. “This book is an attempt to slow things down for a moment so we can look at the enormous shift in time and space e-mail has effected, how e-mail has changed our lives, our culture and workplace, our psychological well-being.”

Reading The Tyranny was a lot like reading an updated version of Neil Postman’s Amusing Ourselves to Death which is also an incriminating and enlightening journey through history, primarily though the lens of television and entertainment.

Here are my highlights from The Tyranny…

Blame Literacy
“In Sweden in the eighteenth century, though, the Lutheran Church issued an injunction that everyone must be able to read the word of God, and a massive literacy campaign was launched. Within a hundred years the nation boasted a 100 percent literacy rate.”

“In the early American colonies, where religious injunction required that believers be able to read the Bible themselves, men had a 100 percent literacy rate.”

“In 1840, the average American sent three letters a year; by 1900 that figure was sixty-nine letters per annum and the total volume of letters outnumbered telegrams fifty to one. By 1950, the mail was almost out of control; in 1960, the U.S. Post Office was handling 63 billion pieces of mail—the equivalent of 350 pieces per year for every man, woman, and child in America.”

“Since most people didn’t send and receive telegrams regularly, the telegraph made the biggest impact in their lives by increasing the scope of the world it brought to them. This new, globalized sense of now would soon test the limits of human empathy. Small-town residents in the United States suddenly found it difficult to put local news into the context of large-scale disasters around the world. One newspaper, the Alpeno Echo in Michigan, defiantly shut down its incoming telegraph service, tired of becoming the world’s echo chamber rather than a record of its own community. ‘It could not tell why the telegraph company caused it to be sent a full account of a flood in Shanghai, a massacre in Calcutta, a sailor fight in Bombay, hard frosts in Siberia,’ Standage wrote, ‘and not a line about the Muskegon fire.’”

“Communication—the conveyance of meaning from one person to the next—depends on how we frame it.”

E-Mail is Re-Programming Us
“The mind is denied the experience of deep flow, when creative ideas flourish and complicated thinking occurs. We become task-oriented, tetchy, terrible at listening as we try to keep up with the computer. The e-mail inbox turns our mental to-do list into a palimpsest—there’s always something new and even more urgent erasing what we originally thought was the day’s priority.”

“As Susan Sontag noted in On Photography, we cannot travel and be tourists without ferrying home images of the place we have visited—as if the purpose of the trip were the collection of the images, not the being there.”

“Thirty years ago, in The Society of the Spectacle, the French philosopher Guy Debord predicted we would be spending more time apart. ‘The reigning economic system is founded on isolation,’ he wrote. ‘At the same time it is a circular process designed to produce isolation. Isolation underpins technology, and technology isolates in its turn; all goods proposed by the spectacular system, from cars to televisions, also serve as weapons for that system, as it strives to reinforce the isolation of ‘the lonely crowd.’”

“If we’re performing an action that doesn’t always pay out, but does some of the time, such as playing the slots, the lesson learned is that if we want a reward we need to keep pulling that lever.”

“A work climate that revolves around multitasking and constant interruptions has narrowed our cognitive window down to a core, basic facility: rote, mechanical tasks.”

“This is not a sustainable way to live. This lifestyle of being constantly on causes emotional and physical burnout, workplace meltdowns, and unhappiness. How many of our most joyful memories have been created in front of a screen? Yet in 2006, it was discovered that Americans spent more than half of their life connected to various forms of media. This means we spend more time engaged in media than we do sleeping, more hours plugged in than we log at work. We work in order to have time to watch. We spend more time with our computers than our spouses. We check our e-mail more often than we drink water.”

Freeman argues for a “slow communication movement.”

The Slow Food movement recognized this twenty years ago, when delegates from fifteen countries drafted a manifesto. “In the name of productivity, Fast Life has changed our way of being and threatens our environment and our landscapes,” they wrote. In other words, we may be able to get oranges from Chile and water from Switzerland, but the carbon emissions involved in shipping them to our doorstep so we can enjoy them are destroying our environment and putting local growers and farmers out of business. Communication works the same way. If we spend our evening online trading short messages over Facebook with friends thousands of miles away rather than going to our local pub or park with a friend, we are effectively withdrawing from the people we could turn to for solace, humor, and friendship, not to mention the places we could go to do this.

“It starts with a simple instruction: Don’t send.”
For what it’s worth, I’ve been making subtle changes to my “digital” life for the past two years. Most recently, and because of this book, I’ve also altered my e-mail habits pretty significantly. I’m going on two weeks of establishing new rhythms and it’s been really difficult! The results have been well worth it. I’m less hurried, I’m more focused and I’m chipping away at some big tasks that I wouldn’t have otherwise.

Some things on my mind as the new year begins…

• Can’t believe a decade has past since 2000. Feels like just yesterday Jamaica and I were standing at the foot of the Eiffel Tower in France, ushering in the new millennium.
• My theory on time passing quicker the older you get… When you’re 5, a year is 20% of your life. When you’re 20, a year is 5% of your life. So the older you get, the less percentage of your life a year actually is, which makes time feel like it’s flying by.
• Love the way Don Miller approaches new year’s resolutions. With a nod to his recent Million Miles, Miller suggests framing goals as stories. Instead of attempting to lose 15 pounds this year, how about running a marathon or hiking a mountain with a friend? It’s inevitable that the training and preparation for a marathon or a mountain will result in losing weight, and the story to get you there is that much more meaningful. I have a running list of life goals, going to see about converting them to stories.
• Finished reading John Freeman’s The Tyranny of E-mail: The Four-Thousand-Year Journey to Your Inbox. Excellent book. I’ll blog about it soon, including some new rhythms I’m trying out.
• Can’t wait to dive into Daniel Pink’s new book Drive: The Surprising Truth About What Motivates Us. Check out the teaser video.
• For the past two years, Jamaica and I have been memorizing a new book of the Bible. We know Philippians and James. This year we start on 1 John. Memorizing is hard work, but it’s having a major effect on my thoughts and how I filter them. Love it.
• I’m sick of asking the question “What am I going to do with my life?” It’s getting old. I’m hoping for clarity in 2010.
• I think this is going to be a defining year for CFCC. Last year saw a lot of seeds planted, the team assembled and the focus set.

Hello 2010, it’s nice to see you.

However, lately, I’m becoming more and more convinced that purpose and meaning are not meant to be figured out or pursued. Instead, I think I’m supposed to be pursuing conflict. Purpose and meaning will follow.

Am I the only one who gets joyfully depressed when I read stories like those of Jim Stockdale, Tyndale & Luther, Wyclef Jean, and John Wood? Joyful because of their significant sacrifice and ability to overcome conflict. Depressed because I’m pretty good at reading books about stories I can’t tell.

Someone once said: “When you were born, you cried and the world rejoiced. Live your life so that when you die, the world cries and you rejoice.”

When kids are asked what they want to be when they grow up, we often hear responses like “firefighter,” “doctor,” “astronaut,” “spiderman” or “superman.” I wonder if at the core of these responses lies a desire that all of us have to be part of an epic conflict. We want to rush into the burning house and save everyone inside. We want to defy the laws of physics and explore planets we know not of. We want to scale huge buildings and fly over big cities destroying the bad guys and rescuing the good ones.

But the older we get, we replace our epic desire for conflict with an epic appetite for comfort.

Donald Miller’s latest book talks a lot about this idea of conflict, and what makes for a good life story. “If you aren’t telling a good story, nobody thinks you died too soon; they just think you died,” he says.

Roy H. Williams talks about passion and commitment in this week’s Monday Morning Memo. He said that “Passion does not produce commitment. Commitment produces passion.”

I want conflict.
Conflict I am passionate about.
Which will result in my commitment to overcome such conflict.

The question is, what conflict should I be running toward?

I’ve been thinking about fear lately. What am I really afraid of? A plane crash? Losing my job or a client? Getting old? The economy? My wife leaving me? Being wrongfully accused of a crime I did not commit? The list could go on about all the things we have feared, do fear or could fear.

Tim Ferriss did a TED Talk at the EG Conference a few years ago about smashing our fears. Ferriss said that sometimes fear shows you what you shouldn’t do, but more often than not, fear shows you what you should do.

A couple months ago I started writing down a list of the things I fear. The things that keep me up at night or worried about. As I worked my way down the list, I started framing my fears as a call to action. Instead of letting fears become obstacles, I’m attempting to use them as launching points.

Forgive me if this post sounds a little Tony Robbins-ish or like a Successories poster.

Speaking of things that scare me…

1. I can’t believe it’s May already. Another year flying by. I don’t remember being any less active when I was a kid, but life seemed to move so much slower 20 years ago. It might be that when you’re ten years old, a year is 10% of your life. When you’re 30, a year is 3% of your life. Life is indeed a mist, and then we’re gone.

2. My first visit to a Foursquare Convention was in 2002 when I rented a truck and drove 15 hours from Los Angeles to Denver to deliver a project (Foursquare was a client at the time). I’ve been every year since and for the past six years, I’ve be a co-director/producer/whipping boy. I love it and hate it every year. Next week I’ll move into a hotel for nine days and see 4,500 people come and go. A year’s worth of work and poof, it’s done.

3. I work with a really great team at Foursquare. In spite of major budget cuts (or shall I say decapitations?) and losing over half my team in layoffs, those that remain have been nothing less all-stars. I’d work with these people anywhere on anything.

4. I sat in a meeting earlier this week with a well-known and well-respected futurist. He spent 90 minutes talking through his notes on general expectations for the next six years. Amazing thinker. Amazing moment.

5. Jamaica and I have a big summer planned with trips to northern California (June), South Africa (July) and Hawaii (August). It’s our last hurrah before Jamaica starts law school this fall.

6. I’ve been working and consulting with two really cool clients the past eight months. They are both—in their own unique way—taking risks and shaping culture in ways I’ve always dreamed of. Having a front row seat has made the ride pretty exciting.

7. I think I’m done with Twitter. I appreciate its ability to connect with so many people I know and respect, but I don’t believe it’s realistic to think I can keep up with it. I could probably find a few minutes a day to keep my “updates” fresh, but that’s not a conversation, that’s a platform. That’s not me.

8. The nonprofit Center for Church Communication (CFCC) is finally gaining some momentum. I think 2010 is going to be a big year for the CFCC community, and ultimately for the Church.

9. Personality, the company I started in 1998, is going to take longer than I expected to become what it is meant to be. For someone that often lacks in the patience department, this has been a struggle. It’s a project that will take a lifetime to bring to fruition, but the results are going to be worth the wait.

In addition to the Web’s connectivity, I’ve also enjoyed some of the benefits from social media, including blogs, LinkedIn, Twitter and a brief rendezvous with Facebook. Lately, though, I’m beginning to question my quality and rhythm of life, including learning patterns, times of rest, relationships, and ultimately my identity. It’s no secret I’ve struggled with this stuff before.

According to a recent Time article, “the U.S.-based Center for Internet Addiction Recovery classifies [internet addiction] as compulsive behavior in which ‘the Internet becomes the organizing principle of addicts’ lives.’” Although that definition is a bit too dramatic, I resemble more than resent such an accusation. Not good.

The same article referenced China’s estimated 300 million Web users, the most in the world. “China is struggling with an epidemic of Internet obsession among its youth. Since the establishment in 2004 of the country’s first Internet-addiction-treatment facility, the China Youth Mental Health Center, more than 3,000 patients have been treated there.”

I fear that my constant connection and interaction with the Web is training my brain to believe that the world revolves around me. I know instinctively this is not true, but practically, this is often the way I behave. With just a few clicks I can tell employees what to do, tell stores what to ship me, and I can tell Google what to get me.

Life has got to be about more than just minimizing the distance between what I have and what I don’t have. The Web is attempting to convince me otherwise.

I don’t know what exactly this all means for how I live. It’s obviously difficult to function these days without the Internet so I don’t think I’m looking to quit. Seems a little backwards. But I am seeking a better way to live in light of the enormous amount of time I spend with my computer every day.

I’ve kept a journal off and on ever since I was a kid. I wish I was more consistent. You’d think my love for history would motivate me enough to capture the present, but it doesn’t work that way. So Jamaica and I are trying a couple things to capture what’s happening in our lives on an ongoing basis.

Video Journal: We’ve identified a handful of questions we will answer every year in front of a video camera. We’ll do our recording individually, in front of a plain backdrop, with a tightly cropped shot. The idea is to capture answers to the same questions for what will hopefully be decades to come. In 20, 30, and 40 years I think it will be interesting to watch the progression of our answers, age, and everything else that comes with this time-lapse like approach.

Listography: Although Jamaica and I will continue with irregular journaling, we’re starting to compile lists of memories. We’re using Lisa Nola’s Listography to get us started. It’s a little book packed with blank pages, organized around categories like places you’ve lived, biggest fears and best friends. The idea is to create lists that span back to childhood. In the process, I’ve found myself adding commentary next to items which creates a nice narrative. In my opinion, keeping lists is much less intimidating than blank journal pages that scream for emotional commentary and unconfessed secrets.

Time will tell if we can stay disciplined enough to continue capturing our story. If and/or when we have children, we’ll want to include them in the chronicling festivities too. Although this whole thing feels a little self-centered, at the core is a desire to recall, to remember and to remind. There is something significant about looking back. A professor in college used the analogy of rowing. When you row, you’re seated looking the opposite direction of where you’re headed. Although you’re looking back, you’re moving forward. You’ve got to row into the future while rowing out of the past.

With love in the air this week, I’ve been thinking about our relationship a little. Jamaica has been feeling sick the past several days so the whole “in sickness and in health” comment has been lovingly exchanged several times.

I’ve always thought of this particular marital vow applying to the person who is not sick. In other words, the spouse who is not sick is saying that I am going to love you, I’m going to serve you, I’m going to be faithful to you in the midst of your sickness. Whether it’s a cold or cancer. A broken hand or a broken heart. The healthy spouse is vowing to the “unhealthy” spouse.

However, the more I ponder this oft-repeated vow, I’m convinced it applies to both people and with equal resolve. The “unhealthy” spouse is also committing to love, faithfulness and fidelity in the midst of their sickness.

So when Jamaica is sick and I am the one being selfish, impatient or unloving, she has vowed to love me “in sickness and in health.”

That’s pretty powerful.

• My house and its contents
• My stocks and mutual funds
• My car
• My computer and cell phone
• My land/property
• My business

But what does it mean to own this stuff? Do we really ever own anything?

Technically, the bank owns my home until it’s paid off. I can’t take anything I own with me when I die. And the value of anything I own is only as good as the value others ascribe to it.

What would happen if I started looking at things, not as stuff to own, but stuff to steward?

Humor me for a moment and think about the implications of this. If we stopped thinking “ownership” and instead thought “stewardship,” would I…

• Cling less tightly to things?
• Begin to think about who else can benefit from this stuff?
• Think more about people?
• Consider future generations and their benefit?

Vaclav Havel, in a New York Times op-ed suggests a similar posture:

“Maybe we should start considering our sojourn on earth as a loan. There can be no doubt that for the past hundred years as least, Europe and the United States have been running up a debt, and now other parts of the world are following their example. Nature is issuing warnings [in the form of climate changes] that we must not only stop the debt from growing but start to pay it back.”