Influence 7

We are all influencers. This morning I have been listening to CBC Radio One, and I am being influenced by everything that is being said, from the radio host, Stephen Quinn's, sick, but compelling humour, to the relentless harping on the recent election results, to the interview with the good doctor who is trying to promote using (creepy) smart phone technology to remind us to take our medications and keep our vital statistics flowing into the doctor's office twenty-four/seven. This doesn't mean that I am going to accept or agree or approve of everything I hear (I seldom do), but I am being influenced, nonetheless, and if I ever catch myself sounding, or making snarky remarks in the style of Stephen Quinn, then it will be time to shut off the radio and go live in a cave for a while. And when I leave my apartment I will also be influenced by every casual contact and view of every stranger I pass or encounter. And I will also be influencing them. Influence is a constant that surrounds and ebbs and flows around us. This is why I say hi to random strangers on the sidewalk. I am influencing them. And they are influencing me. We are all ingredients in the same soup, and it doesn't simply surround us, because we are the soup. Already knowing that I am going to be influenced, subtly and unconsciously, by all that I see, hear and am present to, I am also going to process and digest these random influences and become myself a vector of influence wherever I happen to be today. And so will you, Gentle Reader, every single one of you, if you don't happen to be living under a rock, that is. This isn't going to necessarily create a lot of kumbaya moments, though that is also bound to happen, since we often see others, and they often see or hear us, at our worst. Road Rage, anybody? Sidewalk Rage? Transit Rage?. When I holler and swear at some idiot on a violent right hand turn who has almost sent me to my eternal reward, someone else will have heard or seen me, and chances are, they are not going to sympathize with me that much for getting almost killed by a reckless driver, but they are instead going to silently judge me for raising my voice and using bad language in public. And if the driver is hermetically sealed inside his (they are usually males) death machine on wheels, then what are the chances that they have heard me, or seen me, or even would know or care that I exist? But this often happens with people when they drive vehicles. They insulate themselves all the more from others, and live under the illusion that they are somehow apart from the common mob. I think this is one of the more insidious features of car ownership that has always repelled me from the idea of driving. I have often mentioned to others, that riding on public transit teaches people to coexist, and this is a skill we are lacking, and badly need to learn, especially as we are heading into such uncertain and perilous times that we are eventually going to need one another more than ever. It's coming, Gentle Reader. Now get out of your car and live.