What Happened

(Views expressed are the writer's ONLY).

The name Stephen Paddock is now a name associated with chaos, but perhaps a better descriptor would be "lifeless and despondent." Anger screams out from Paddock's grave, but why? We can't seem to make the puzzle pieces fit on this one. He's not a "terrorist"in the way that we have come to know the same. There was no idealistic cause or crazed ideology behind the shootings, as far as we know, the 58 souls that lost their lives on 1 October.

Accountants, generally speaking, attribute value to numbers. Those numbers can ordinarily be traced back to some kind of human meaning or interaction. At times, however, people lose touch between those numbers and what they are supposed to represent. But the issue here is not the occupation. It is the weight being given numbers, more and more, for convenience sake, at the expense of what personhood is supposed to really mean. So the attempt to treat this incident as totally isolated from societal trends would be a serious mistake.

Systems break down because there is little or no human intervention or communication. Yet most of us owe our livelihood to classifications, case numbers, customer numbers, identification numbers, or the like. People, amidst all the depersonalized electronic communication, social media, characterized by the user's obsession with "likes," and content, are, arguably, rarely privy to the essential face-to-face communication that provides understanding, meaning, or a glimpse into the soul. What is more insane that two colleagues working side by side while using email or texting as the preferred mode or method of communication? The message is clear: "The time I can save by avoiding human contact is more valuable to me than you are." That message is sent over and over again: "YOU DON'T MATTER"; so that eventually one angry and crazy enough like Paddock decides to "do something about it."

How much do we really know, personally, about those whom we work with? Probably little or nothing. Everybody's "too busy." But doing what? Acquiring things, perhaps, or completing one's to-do list. The irony is, it's probably related to capturing someone's attention, yet not having time for the same (person); or becoming distracted, ingesting higher and higher doses in order to numb or offset the weight of everything that's being thrown at us. In our attempt to "save time," given all of the information we're being asked to process, we are being forced to classify and reclassify our way to sense. But what is classification? At the end of the day, it can be a superficial label or labeling, merely scratching, or rarely reaching, below the surface. And, despite the categories created and the processes postulated and interventions integrated, we're left holding an empty vessel, with anything but understanding, more like dissimulation: no face to face, no, "This is what I am." No "truth." Is it any wonder that there are some angry people out there?

Still, some of us, especially those whom we should be looking up to as leaders, write off the despondency or the attempt to communicate hurt with more classification, placing the "patriots" on one side, for example, the "non-patriots" on the other, and the "terrorists" in the middle (arguably, a convenient way of avoiding having to deal with the more painful and real issues facing society). So where does someone like Stephen Paddock fall? In creating categories and classifications, we are, at times, presupposing a standard that fits all, and are thus making the situation worse. In this manner, personhood and personal style and preference acquired through lived experiences are being marginalized (unless one has glitter to show for it). On the one hand, people are being told that they matter; on the other, they're being shown that they don't. The crazed shooter appeared to be sending a message: "You (society) made me what I am."

Now here's the reality. One can refrain from talking about anything and everything that matters to anyone and everyone, unless the context demands it, but eventually, it's going to bottle up. At the end of the day, we all seek someone who will listen, who will validate our existence here on the planet. Some may argue, "Yes, when and where it's appropriate." Yes, you're right, technically and superficially speaking, but sometimes, like fast food, you've got to grab it (authentic, no-holds-barred communication) whenever and wherever it's available. We've got to stop trying to be so doggone correct all the time, trying to fit every piece into its "proper" slot. Sometimes, we've got to "let ourselves go," make exceptions; that's reality; that's life. The life we save may be our own. Instinctively, I believe people know this, but societal "norms" have placed us in a bubble, which, from time to time, may show signs of thinning out, even bursting.

In short, relationships are critical. At times, we've got to throw away or ignore those d. emails, set aside social media, and go knock on the person's door. The "information age" has brought us to the point of not being present even when we are. It has us buzzing with electronic senselessness, lifeless images, jargon: what we think we understand but don't. We seek stimulation in ever increasing doses but without the presence of a person. We want to have our cake and eat it too. The anodyne is not more categorization, the fatuous notion that everything can be categorized into making sense, and not more protocol nor systemic conundrum, but people. What we truly need is already here, if only we'd take the time to put that phone down and look directly at and reach out to the one sitting next to or standing across from us. God bless.