Social media are doing me a favour. The strategies we now consciously employ to make them "work" for us are like a narrowly-focused lens, amplifying behavioural patterns I might otherwise never have brought into conscious awareness.
Even social media have become so ubiquitous in our lives that I almost fail to see the dynamics underpinning them. The strategies we employ to get more "likes", "followers" and "subscribers" seem so standard that I barely question them, even if I don't actively (or at least consciously) employ them.. It was an article I accidentally found on Pinterest that once again, for a moment, gave me pause.
You see, it had never occurred to me to use Pinterest in any "strategic" way. I've never even understood why Pinterest bothers with notifications about who has "liked" or "re-pinned" my pins. Why would I care? I tend to think of it as a magical stream of beautiful possibilities. The game, for me, is to create a world in which more and more beauty is attracted towards me. The more I pin, the more I choose my own reality and the more the universe of Pinterest begins to reflect my own preferred world view. It is like a conscious experiment with the law of attraction as I attempt to create an ever-increasingly wonder-filled horizon.
It had never occurred to me (though of course it should have) that anyone would waste this beautiful playground on anything as prosaic as a graphic filing system or even a shopping trolley. No wonder I had never worked out what the new "Tried it" button was all about. After all, how could you possibly "try" a majestic bear with her cubs or a breathtaking fairytale landscape? But, when I think about it, there is probably very strong encouragement to explore at least some more practical - and commercially profitable - realities.
And so now it seems you can get advice on how the Pinterest algorithm works and how you can maximise your exposure on yet another social platform. Social. When did social become business? Of course, the era of the heart-centred small business, with promotion based on transparent ethics, values and personal recommendation is an empowering delight. But beyond that, our social worlds are becoming increasingly about a personal brand. Even if I sell nothing and have no financial interests involved in my platforms, social inclusion itself has become a matter of brand management. At what point did I buy in to the idea that popularity and image equal friendship?
The internet is a wonderful place for ugly ducklings, because, if you're surrounded by ducks, where better to look for a whiteness of swans? The problem is, I have increasingly bought into behaviour patterns and a level of public exposure that don't quite fit. I have become captivated by the artistry of intentional design and seduced into a level of public sharing with which I'm not always entirely comfortable. No one pressured or even encouraged me. I simply bought into the glittering web of possibilities that makes "fame" available to the average person. No sooner do I make a decision to quit this game or else play it only according to my own rules than I receive a lovely comment from someone I truly admire. And that is enough to melt my heart and make me think, "Well, maybe I'm being too hasty..."
Fortunately, while there really may be a game of popularity and social exposure going on, Pinterest has taught me the most valuable lesson of all: I really do get to shape my own reality, with every choice I make.
Even social media have become so ubiquitous in our lives that I almost fail to see the dynamics underpinning them. The strategies we employ to get more "likes", "followers" and "subscribers" seem so standard that I barely question them, even if I don't actively (or at least consciously) employ them.. It was an article I accidentally found on Pinterest that once again, for a moment, gave me pause.
You see, it had never occurred to me to use Pinterest in any "strategic" way. I've never even understood why Pinterest bothers with notifications about who has "liked" or "re-pinned" my pins. Why would I care? I tend to think of it as a magical stream of beautiful possibilities. The game, for me, is to create a world in which more and more beauty is attracted towards me. The more I pin, the more I choose my own reality and the more the universe of Pinterest begins to reflect my own preferred world view. It is like a conscious experiment with the law of attraction as I attempt to create an ever-increasingly wonder-filled horizon.
It had never occurred to me (though of course it should have) that anyone would waste this beautiful playground on anything as prosaic as a graphic filing system or even a shopping trolley. No wonder I had never worked out what the new "Tried it" button was all about. After all, how could you possibly "try" a majestic bear with her cubs or a breathtaking fairytale landscape? But, when I think about it, there is probably very strong encouragement to explore at least some more practical - and commercially profitable - realities.
And so now it seems you can get advice on how the Pinterest algorithm works and how you can maximise your exposure on yet another social platform. Social. When did social become business? Of course, the era of the heart-centred small business, with promotion based on transparent ethics, values and personal recommendation is an empowering delight. But beyond that, our social worlds are becoming increasingly about a personal brand. Even if I sell nothing and have no financial interests involved in my platforms, social inclusion itself has become a matter of brand management. At what point did I buy in to the idea that popularity and image equal friendship?
The internet is a wonderful place for ugly ducklings, because, if you're surrounded by ducks, where better to look for a whiteness of swans? The problem is, I have increasingly bought into behaviour patterns and a level of public exposure that don't quite fit. I have become captivated by the artistry of intentional design and seduced into a level of public sharing with which I'm not always entirely comfortable. No one pressured or even encouraged me. I simply bought into the glittering web of possibilities that makes "fame" available to the average person. No sooner do I make a decision to quit this game or else play it only according to my own rules than I receive a lovely comment from someone I truly admire. And that is enough to melt my heart and make me think, "Well, maybe I'm being too hasty..."
Fortunately, while there really may be a game of popularity and social exposure going on, Pinterest has taught me the most valuable lesson of all: I really do get to shape my own reality, with every choice I make.