Meet My Invisible Friend

 "Doctors, I've been wrestling with reality for 40 years and I'm happy to say that I've finally won out over it."

Elwood P Dowd in Harvey, by Mary Chase. Pulitzer Prize, 1945.

The title character in Ms. Chase's book, and later in the 1950 film starring Jimmy Stewart, is an invisible 6'3" rabbit who is also a Pooka - from old Celtic mythology - a mischievous fairy spirit in animal form - always very large. Harvey talks to Elwood P. Dowd, Stewart's character, throughout - and Elwood seems to draw great comfort from their dialogues.

I often think about this odd couple when I encounter two kinds of seemingly different, but actually quite similar contemporary social phenomena; my age-mates experiencing a return to spirituality, and adolescents being drawn to chat bots. "No wait," as I used to say to my Media and Society students, "Really. It will make sense. Just wait."

OK. I have one dear friend who joins me in our 7th decade, who has begun to attend not only the Catholic services in which he was raised but also some Saturday services - maybe Unitarian? He jokes about joining a Jewish Temple to give him a weekend trifecta. Another dear friend who has just broken into her 8th decade has converted to Judaism. And I sense they are not outliers. Nor do the various theologies indicate that they are trying to hoard indulgences to smooth their way into some multifaceted hereafter.

No. And I may be completely wrong here, having not broached the question to them, but I think the commonality is prayer. NWIWMS - that's shorthand for "No wait it will make sense."

What generalizations can we make about folks in this - OK, my - demographic cluster, somewhere north of 70? They - er, we - have racked up a lot of very varied experiences. And those experiences have solidified into occasionally quite firm conclusions and beliefs regarding the nature of life, existence, behavior, right and wrong.

And while they/we may occasionally articulate those positions loudly and sometimes inappropriately, in some - I would assert many - cases they/we would prefer to just let the kids (everyone under 65 or so) natter on among themselves. We'll just have another glass of wine and pet the dog. The kids won’t listen anyhow. And that, of course, is the crux of the issue for our two seemingly disparate populations: Nobody, perhaps not even my peers are listening. Or, if they are their "truth" may be at odds with my truth. And I don't want to debate.

So who do you - my demographic - talk to? And why? To paraphrase the title of a book popular among a far younger demographic, "Hello God. Are you there? It's me." Maybe it's not God in a catholic (little c) sense. Maybe it is more like a listening entity. Need not even be an entity who can do anything more than listen. Yet an entity whose experience and insight far outstrips our own. Dialogue is not required. We are not so much looking for answers as we are clarifying questions without the listening entity interrupting with "I know what you mean! My brother/sister/son/daughter/whatever did exactly the same thing and I yadda yadda yadda . . . "

The idea is that as we talk to the le - aka listening entity - about our concerns, uncertainties, wishes, problems, etc., we may come to hear the echoes of, if not answers, at least possibilities regarding our inquiries. You see, so much of today's world, for our demographic niche, falls into the "been there, done that" bucket. So our inquiries with the le look beyond those concerns to the ripples of the strange. Of course we are curious about what comes next, but we are more concerned about those glitches that conflict with our experienced-based worldview:

Why does humanity remain blind? Why does conflict seem unceasing? Why do the patently foolish succeed? How can I foster harmony, enable beauty, distill complexity, and oppose harm? OK, you caught me - those last four are my personal queries. But you get the idea. My cohort is not focused on the next job, the next rung on the ladder, finding success, building to retirement, because - ta, da! We're already there! For better or for worse. But I am nattering on again. Focus.

So, do you need a gathering place to commune with the le? Probably not. Yet throughout the ages from Stonehenge - and possibly earlier gathering spots - through Notre Dame and Gaudi's still unfinished Sagrada Familia to the Hagia Sophia and the Neue Synagogue in Berlin, inspired builders have been creating spaces seemingly in tune with the le, whether for a solitary soul or a significant congregation.

Which does present the additional question; do you need a congregation to talk to the le? There are certainly a raft of theologians and philosophers who would assert that neither a structure nor a congregation is necessary for communion with the le. That nature provides the vista that first inspired spiritual gatherings. Personally I like sacred spaces best when they are empty, just me and the le. On the other hand I can understand the notion that a gathering of other seemingly likeminded folks can affirm one's own spiritual inclination.

Another issue in the whole "me to the le" interaction: do you need a conduit? A rosary? An icon? A prayer rug? A kippah? A crucifix? While mine is an admittedly agnostic view, I would say that these "dressings" are unnecessary trimmings, devised by ecclesiastical structures to keep the faithful in line. On the other, more important, hand, if some sort of conduit makes talking to the le easier, go ahead - certainly can't hurt.

So, to hop back to Harvey for a moment, I don't think it is unacceptable to assert that Harvey was Elwood's listening entity. Of course, Chase had to make Harvey a sympathetic speaking entity as well. Otherwise the book would have been crushing dull and the film unbearable. 

But as stated above, our expecting the le to respond directly is probably a futile exercise. Rather we should listen to ourselves, ferreting out possible answers or clues for behavior in the totality of our questions. So "Hello le. It's me. I was wondering . . . " might be a good way to begin. Or perhaps "Hello Lee. It's me I was wondering . . ." Lee seems like a good noun of address. Seems more natural, is gender non-specific, more comfortable. But I am rambling.

So now let us turn our attention to the adolescents and their chatbots. NWIWMS! NPR reports Children and teenagers are rapidly adopting AI chatbots, with studies showing that 64% to 72% of U.S. teens (ages 13–17) have used AI chatbots. While many use these tools for homework, a significant number—roughly 3 in 10—use them daily for companionship, advice, and emotional support.. "Hi GPTChat. You there? I was wondering. . . ." Hmmmm. [To ramble just a moment - I often think about children who have either an invisible friend, or a special toy who provide "companionship, advice, and emotional support." Maybe another Wall.]

Anyhow, a website dedicated to healthy children and other sources contend that:

"There are documented cases of chatbots failing to properly handle discussions about suicide, with some, in rare cases, even encouraging self-harm or providing dangerous advice. And because chatbots are designed to be "sycophantic" (constantly agreeable) and offer "frictionless" interaction, children may prefer them to real, complex human relationships, leading to isolation."

Yee, gads! There is no way that chatbots for that 30% of teens using chatbots for "companionship, advice, and emotional support" are mirroring the le experience of spiritually questing seniors. 

A couple of salient points:

Chatbots are the creatures of computer software engineers. And so are by definition fallible. My iPad, iPhone and car software systems have all been "upgraded" in the last few weeks. They now "talk" to each other differently than before - and sometimes not at all. The solution is often "Turn off. Restart. Again." Hardly good advice for curious teens!

Teenagers are creatures of determined confusion. Their experiences in, and beliefs about, the "real world" are existentially truncated. Yet many have, since birth, had screens as their constant companions. Look around you at the grocery store, or at the carload of backseat kids next to you at the stoplight. How many of them are being pacified by some screen or another? And when they leave the car they carry their tablets, phones or smart watches with them - tethered to their chatbot buddy. Why should we find it strange that as they grow older and more curious about the complexities of the modern world that they turn to those same screens for the "truth" about issues their parents are too busy or uneasy to discuss?

The teenage utilization of Chatbots is diametrically opposed to senior's spiritual interactions with le - or Lee. With le the human explores possibilities in their questing interactions with the silent, but assumed attentive, le, - questions based on decades of real world experience. With a Chatbot, the teen, also posing questions, is sometimes fed the digital equivalent of emotional fast food - sweet and savory - by a hyperactive, chatty electronic entity prone to errors, falsehoods and deception. Yet from that frothy menu the teen distills something that passes for truth.

So what do we take away from this rambling discourse? Well, first off, even with all the mental challenges and physical maladies in attendance, I'd rather be old than young. And my sympathy for parents attempting to raise children in the current digital environment is immense. My advice to them is to maximize non-screen experience. Experiences their children can touch without keyboards. Pets, sports, learning cursive, writing with it, painting, sculpting, playing an instrument - always utilizing the non-digital option when possible. It is inevitable that life will eventually force them into the increasingly digital world - but they will have the advantage of having known the more gritty processes the digital seeks to imitate. And with that advantage they may ask better questions of real people.

Second, to my aged cohort re-exploring their spirituality - have at it! But take notes. I hate it when I come to an insight while talking to the le during the tiny hours after midnight, but then awake the next morning to discover it has slipped away!