Days of Our Second Lives

Letter to a CEO

Dear Rod,

Welcome aboard our ship of dreams. I hope you’ll forgive me for taking so long to drop you a line.  I knew you’d be busy putting faces to names and untangling the snarl of “best-laid plans” left by your predecessors.  I picture you hunched over a deep desk drawer, sorting through the contents – rubber bands and spreadsheets, Post-its, thumb tacks, and flash drives, a pine shaped air freshener, pencils in need of sharpening, nail clippers, and lunch receipts tucked into a tiny leather-bound journal full of cryptic "to do" lists – looking for some common thread, an encryption key perhaps or a ghost of the founder’s vision.

I wonder how you’ll make sense of all that stuff – find a way to look past the numbers and projections to what  Second Life itself has to say about its future.  Personally, I’m not big on numbers, though I’d never tell you not to crunch, munch and otherwise manipulate them to help you understand your job.  I just know that one person sharing a compelling story has the ability to capture hearts and minds, and that Second Life is the most powerful platform for storytelling I’ve ever encountered.  This despite the ongoing issues with and debates about lag, the user interface, and land prices.   

What if instead of being so concerned about the number of users, you focused on improving the tools content creators need to tell their stories? What if you concentrated on finding ways to actively promote and profit from those stories in physical reality where they’d reach a wider audience?  What if you no longer saw each avatar as a single isolated being but as a node in a network – a door to an enormous labyrinth of interconnectivity that is constantly acquiring and sharing information? If they’re interesting, imaginative, and captivating enough, stories generated in Second Life will find their way through these nodes back into the larger web of interconnectivity and go viral.  Isn’t that how true success and sea change happen – one person, one story, one imagination at a time?

The good news is that Second Life is full of storytellers and content creators of all kinds.  I think of it as a living, breathing, fermenting brew of ideas that is constantly bubbling with possibility.  The bad news is that it’s almost impossible for us all to stay in touch with one another. One of my biggest frustrations is that I have no reliable and efficient way to find and experience others’ work.  Instead, and quite ironically, I am forced to use clumsy and time consuming tools outside SL to keep abreast of what people are doing.

But I’m not writing to chastise you about a problem you inherited and undoubtedly know about already. Instead, I’d like to weigh in on a topic that I believe lies at the center of the debate about the value and future of virtual worlds in general and Second Life in particular.  There are those who argue Second Life is just a business and as such we – its users – are simply customers, consumers of a product.  As such, we have no right to complain about or expect to have a say in the decisions Linden Lab makes about that business.  Our only power lies in our buying power – our ability to refuse to consume.  I couldn’t disagree more.

Second Life is not a quaint phenomenon, game or toy.  It is a step in human evolution and communication  – a way for us to safely expand and explore what it means to be human – to experience ourselves and express our creativity in ways that simply are not possible in physical space. 

To give you a simple but profound example, let’s talk about Nick Dupree.  In Second Life Nick is known as Namav Abramovic – a camel trader by profession.  I first met Nick while volunteering to help the disabled get into SL.  Nick was the one who recruited me.  He was passionate about the subject and trained me well.  So well that it was weeks before I thought to ask anyone why he typed so slowly. “Oh, I thought you knew,” the person I asked replied.  “Nick has Muscular Dystrophy and he’s on a ventilator 24/7.  The only part of his body he can move is his thumb.”  To say I was stunned was an understatement, but that discovery was only the start of my education. 

Over the next two years I watched as the Second Life community rallied around Nick, raising the money needed to move him from a private home in the rural south where he was being cared for by his mother and grandmother, to New York.  Not only did Nick make the move successfully – always a challenge for someone who cannot breathe for himself – but he met the woman who became his wife in his first and Second Life as well. Today Nick is a  happily married disability rights activist, Talmud scholar, poet and comic strip artist due in large part to the efforts of  his fellow Second Life citizens.

Nick’s story is dramatic, but it is by no means the only one that illustrates the power and importance of virtual worlds.  The recent HBO documentary, “When Strangers Click” featuring Jonas Tancred (aka Bara Jonson), a middle-aged Swede and Beth Hayes (aka Nickel Borrelly) a younger American woman who marries and eventually has a child with Tancred in physical reality, is another perfect example. 

What I’m saying is that as the largest and most versatile of virtual worlds, Second Life is much more than a money-making endeavor. Whether intentional or not, its founders stumbled upon a way to literally give human beings second lives.  In doing so, they also empowered them to dream – providing the freedom and tools to examine and re-imagine what it means to be human.  The implications, both for financial success and problem solving are mind boggling .  So too, I would argue, is the responsibility.  In order to experience and embrace all that their Second Lives have to offer, its residents must feel empowered and have the ability to help shape, direct and change their world.  Moreover, they are doing much much more than simply consuming your services.  They are creating your product as well.

My question to you is, how can you build a living, responsive infrastructure that will support the growth and creative output – both in SL and back out to the larger world?  I agree with Dusan Writer, who says that ubiquitous adoption is not necessary for Second Life to be a success.  But to be truly empowered AND financially successful you will have to stop thinking you're in the business of virtual land management and focus instead on finding ways to encourage and work in partnership with the content creators to find mutually profitable projects.  Here's my wish list:

• Think entertainment, education and innovation not real estate
• Invest in the platform - fix what’s broken
• Keep your promises
• Hold yourself and all of us to high standards
• Expand and enhance creative tools
• Expand communication tools
• Engage the community before making changes 
• Be systematic and consistent when making changes
• Encourage and promote content creation
• Help export content to the world at large
• Step up to the plate - acknowledge, honor and find ways to celebrate the role Second Life and its citizens are playing in this shift towards a "Whole New Mind."

If I had to distill it all down into a simple bit of advice I would say, "Be a keeper and enabler of dreams Rod, and the rest will follow."

All the best,
Jenaia Morane

 

 

Making Virtual Peace with War

Personal experience and the work I do in Second Life have made me a firm believer in the power of stories told in virtual space to open hearts and minds and facilitate healing. Which brings me to the "Veteran-Civilian Dialogues," a program developed by two very gifted and committed therapists - Larry Winters and Scott Thompson of Intersections International.  

Both Larry and Scott served in the military, Larry as a Marine in Vietnam and Scott as a chaplain. Both were profoundly changed by their service and unable to come to terms with the rift they felt had opened between themselves as soldiers and civilians at home.  

As Scott likes to say, "All of us are affected by war.  The souls of soldiers returning from war have been transformed. War challenges every principal of morality they were taught. Civilians are challenged by the same moral issues, but shy away from them."

 In a Veteran-Civilian Dialogue, both veterans and civilians have the opportunity to ask questions and share their stories, to be seen, heard, acknowledged and take the first steps towards healing - together.

Having seen and experienced this powerful process in a physical setting, I was eager to explore with Larry, Scott and the rest of Startled Cat's creative team how a Dialogue could be translated - and perhaps enhanced and expanded - in virtual space. 

The Process Begins
Our first challenge was simply getting Larry and Scott into Second Life.  No matter how much we "told" them about what it was like, there was no way they could understand until they experienced "avatarhood" for themselves. I still chuckle when I remember how quickly they morphed from total noobs into buff and nattily dressed virtual citizens. Suffice it to say that a lot of shopping - putting on and taking off of shapes, skins, hair and clothing - was involved before they were satisfied.  I think they were both surprised to find how much their avatars' appearance and animations mattered to them, but to me this was a critical piece in understanding why virtual interactions can be so powerful.  We are our "selves" in any world we inhabit, and the more we invest in the expression of that "self" the more we will experience our interactions as meaningful and "real."

The next step was to create a safe and supportive space for the Dialogue to take place. In physical reality, the Dialogues are conducted in a high-ceilinged, open room with hardwood floors and brick walls. But, as is often the case in virutal space, where anything is possible and the laws of physics don't apply, a room with walls and a ceiling felt small and restrictive.  What, we wondered, would a Dialogue space look and feel like if  it could be any size or color and composed of any material?  

We began with adjectives - solid, embracing, supportive, beautiful, surrounded by water and nature - and moved on to needs.  Those needs included things like being able to sit with your back to a wall, feeling that you were above the surrounding terrain and could see in all directions, having some kind of overhead protection, making sure the area was clear of anything remotely threatening, and "locking down" the island so that no one from the "outside" could intrude.

Next, Larry and Scott had some practical requests.  They wanted to be able to gather folks into a large circle, play music and videos, have a "meet and greet" area that was separate from the main Dialogue space, and breakout rooms for small group work. The results of our collaboration can be seen in the photo below. 

Beyond Brick and Mortar
Even as we acknowledged and compensated for certain technological limitations, we worked to capitalize on the unique capabilities inherent in a virtual space. For example, we wanted the environment to reflect each group's special qualities. To that end we built a "Word Tree" for the meet and greet area. The tree picks up the words avatars type and spits them out around the branches like leaves. The result is a constantly changing, three dimensional representation of the conversations taking place. Likewise, after puzzling over how to move 30 or more avatars around, we decided not to move them at all! Instead we moved the chairs they were sitting on using an automated animation menu. And of course we made sure to include some comforting and familiar elements from physical reality such as buffet tables loaded with tasty hors d'œuvres, an espresso bar, and three kinds of pies.

A bigger challenge, and of greater concern to Larry and Scott, was how to handle the warm-up exercises and personal interactions that are so crucial to the success of a Dialogue in physical reality.  As we sat down to plan the actual program, questions flew:

• How would new folks feel about having an avatar?
• Would it be better to have people type or talk?
• How would they feel about using their voices?
• Would they feel safe with people they couldn't see?
• How much time would it take to warm people up?
• Would music and video help or hinder the process?
• What was the best way to incorporate creative expressions?
•  And of course the biggest question of all: Would veterans and civilians feel safe and comfortable enough to enter into deep conversation, to share their stories with one another as avatars?

Interestingly, 99% of the meetings we had to address these questions took place in Second Life. As a result, Larry and Scott logged many many hours interacting with one another and the team as avatars. It wasn't long before they began to master and use the more advanced communication skills in their repertoire. Private IMs and voice calls, as well as backchat and acronyms such as "lol, brb," and "afk." became routine for them, so that by the time the Dialogue rolled around they were quite comfortable in their virtual skins.

Needless to say, there was no way to answer the last and most troublesome question on Larry and Scott's list before the Dialogue. However, the comments that rolled in from veterans and civilians alike say more than I ever could about what took place that day:

"The production and the process and the interactions were magnificent on so many levels. Amazing work, all of you.  Just amazing."  
                                                         - Robert Chase

 "Congratulations on what can only be described as a miracle day." 
                                                         - Jennette Forager

"This was one of the most powerful and moving events I've ever experienced in Second Life."
                                                         - Doug Thompson 

Final Thoughts
Did the virtual Dialogue replicate its counterpart in physical space? No, but then again it wasn't meant to.

Was the virtual Dialogue as powerful as its counterpart in physical space? From my perspective - yes - but with a twist. Having attended both versions of the Dialogues there were things I missed in both worlds.  In virtual space, for example, I couldn't, reach across and hug the avatar who broke into tears during our small group discussion or look into the eyes of the mother who had lost her son in Iraq.

On the flip side, I was able to send the vet across the room a private IM offering friendship and support, and no one had to see me crying as I listened to one soldier's gut wrenching story. Likewise, I could type rather than speak when emotions got too intense, and leaving would have been as easy as pushing a button.

What I am saying is that there are limitations and advantages to doing Dialogues in either world.  What matters most, as Larry likes to say, is that, "conversations get started, stories get told, and the healing begins." Amen to that.

To learn more about the Dialogues:

• See the piece that appeared on February 7, 2011 in the New York Times: 

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/08/nyregion/08vets.html?_r=2&ref=nyregion

• Watch the video produced about the Dialogues in both worlds here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IPawua0c2G0

• And read about how the Dialogues got started and their creators here:

http://www.intersectionsinternational.org/programs/consequences-conflict/veteran-civilian-dialogue

To be kept abreast of news about the Dialogues and be notified about the next virtual Dialogue, sign up for the mailing list located on the bottom left side of this page:

http://tinyurl.com/26p2rua

Tell the Truth and So Make Peace

Every once in awhile, if you are lucky, you get to take part in something that transcends the personal even as it touches what is most powerful and personal of all - your humanity. At times like these, there is nothing to be done but pay attention, play your part, and breathe.  Keeping Kleenex handy is also a good idea, though not mandatory.

This was exactly the kind of event I was fortunate enough to take part in on February 4, 2011. That was the day that 80+ veterans and civilians gathered to take the first steps towards healing the rift that has opened between the two groups by sharing their experiences of war. Overseeing, guiding and supporting their efforts were Larry Winters, Scott Thompson and Fred Johnson of Intersections International.  More on these skilled and highly creative facilitators in a moment.  What I'm itching to articulate is the way a room full of distinct, and in some cases clearly troubled souls was able to find the willingness and courage to be vulnerable with one another.

War is not an easy topic for veterans and civilians to discuss. From veterans we heard about the bond that's formed when fighting for your life - how adrenaline and fear make you capable of things you thought impossible - how words fail when trying to describe "what it's like" to friends or family members - how shame and a sense of being different follow you home and color your days.  From civilians we heard how hard it is to ask - about wanting but being afraid to know - about the helplessness of waiting and the paralyzing effects of silence.  We heard from Vietnam vets still smarting from the reception they received when they returned in 1975, and young men and women so fresh from active duty their speech was peppered with jargon that left the rest of us scratching our heads.There were parents and spouses, siblings and friends - each of us reaching deep to help one another articulate and puzzle through our collective confusion, frustration and pain.  Most of all we learned that each side has something the other needs to heal from the effects of war. 

The funny thing is, this was not my first Veteran-Civilian Dialogue.  Many of you will remember that I was part of the team that created and hosted the first virtual Dialogue in Second Life back in September of 2010.  The film we made of it can be viewed here:

  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IPawua0c2G0

 

This video was part of and helped open the February 4th event. However, it only begins to capture how a simple open room with hard wood floors and brick walls was able to wrap itself around us and keep us safe; how music and poetry and a circle of chairs focused our attention, wove our stories together and kept it all from becoming "too much." I can only conclude that this particular night, this particular group of people was meant to gather, to remind one another of what really matters, and leave with the knowledge and hope that healing is possible.

For more about the evening, watch for Karen Zraick's article due to appear in the next couple of days in the New York Times. You can also visit the Intersection International's page on the Dialogues and Larry Winter's remarkable web site, "The Making and Unmaking of a Marine."  Better yet, plan to attend the next "in-person" Dialogue set for April 1, 2011.  

If you would like to know when the next virtual Veteran-Civilian Dialogue will be held, join the Startled Cat mailing list and we'll keep you posted.

Sleeping with an Avatar

Oddly enough, this poem started as a way to think about how our virtual experiences affect our physical selves. However, as it evolved I realized I was trying to express something else entirely.  What shines in all worlds, all existences, is something that transcends them all.  See what you think. 

 

Sleeping with an Avatar

Sooner or later
the Light bleeds through
pixels porous and permeable
as newborn cells
humming with passion
dividing with purpose
with every keyboard stroke
into rendered truth.

In IMs and emails,
text chats and blog posts
we ponder the inexplicable
dissect the inescapable
and conclude the unavoidable:
we exist beyond our blood and bones
breathe more than air into our lungs
require more than proteins, fats and carbs
to sustain our souls.
                                            - Jena Ball 

 

Pigeon Hole Me - I dare you!

There are a lot of things about being an avatar that both intrigue me and tickle my funny bone.  I get great satisfaction, for example, out of being able to wear every piece of clothing that appeals to me, and even greater satisfaction out of being able to blame the creator if it doesn't fit properly.  I love that I can step out on the dance floor and "shake my booty" with the best of them.  And no matter how many times I accidentally walk off a sky platform and plummet to what would undoubtedly be my death in physical reality, I can't suppress a chuckle when Jenaia picks herself up, brushes off her clothing, and goes calmly about her business.

Until recently, however, I hadn't given serious thought to how I might transfer some of what I can do in my Second Life over to my first.  Then I made the mistake of agreeing to attend one of those dreadful networking events where everyone stands around in uncomfortable tailored suits, exchanges business cards, and pretends to be interested in one another.  The problem, of course, is that the moment you read a person's job title, you assign him or her to a pigeonhole in your mind.  Which pigeonhole a person is dumped into depends upon your frame of reference and interests, but the end result is the same - we never get past superficial assumptions to the person beneath the label. 

So there I was, 45 torturous minutes into the meet-and-greet listening to a "business analyst" named Carl tell me about his idea for a book, which he was very kindly offering to let me write. In an effort to distract myself, I was studying the plastic name tag dangling crookedly from his breast pocket when it hit me - the tag looked a lot like the first page of my profile in Second Life.

That might not seem like much of an insight, but in the fraction of a second it took for my brain to make the connection, I was transported into an augmented reality moment and my interest in Carl went from zero to 10. First, I imagined holding my iPhone up and focusing it on Carl's name tag. Instead of the words "Business Analyst," a quote from Dan Pink leapt out at me in 3D, giving me hope that there was more to Carl than number crunching. A quick tap of the screen brought me to Carl's picks, which included links to web sites on water skiing, chess, and cajun cooking. In a blink of an eye Carl was real to me.  

Which brings me to the point of this post. Far from enabling us to hide from one another - as many friends and acquaintances have suggested - adopting an avatar tells us much much more than than we might otherwise learn about someone.  Unlike physical reality, where we're stuck with the genetics our parents give us, we are able to choose our appearance, gender, and species.  The moment someone steps into an avatar he or she is making a very clear statement, even if original generic avatar is never modified. 

In our profiles we are able to do something equally remarkable - tell the world what is important to us and how we want to be perceived. When the implications of this began to sink in for me, I started to systematically craft my profile into something I could feel good about. I wanted it to reflect how I see and intend to engage with the world - my love of art and passion for words; my dedication to healing; and my belief in an "essential self" that is finding new and compelling ways to express itself in virtuality.

I wish I could report to you that I found a way to share all this with Carl.  The best I could do was ask him if he had ever heard of Second Life, whereupon he promptly relegated me to his "not worth bothering" pigeonhole and excused himself to go to the men's room.  What I really wish I'd been able to do was get everyone in that room to create his or her own version of a Second Life profile and share it with the rest of us. What might we have discovered about one another - what stories might have been told - what productive relationships forged?

So let's imagine for a moment that you and I are able to hold our iPhones up and see augmented versions of our business cards. Instead of four lines with a 24-character limit, we have 12 boxes to fill.  Each box can have a photo and up to 200 words. What will we share about ourselves?  What do we want one another to know? What matters most - what makes us tick - why you should want to know me and why should I want to know you?  I'll go first with a quote from Brenda Peterson that feels like a mantra for living:

"Like water be gentle and strong.  Gentle enough to follow the paths of the earth and strong enough to rise up and reshape the world."

Who wants to go next?  

3D Quilt Adds New Contributors

When talking to a friend recently about the 3D AIDS Quilt, her comment was, “It must be awfully sad to go there.” It took me a moment to respond as sadness is the last thing on my mind when I go to the Quilt. I didn’t want to invalidate her feelings (her brother-in-law passed from AIDS about 10 years ago), and there’s no doubt that AIDS is deeply upsetting, but I also wanted her to experience the excitement that’s being generated. People who visit comment on the way each person’s room comes alive. As one gentleman put it, “I feel like he could walk back into the room at any second.”

The other thing that has struck me about the Quilt is that it is a great way to begin to forge a network of friends and colleagues committed to sharing stories and information. HIV concerns and impacts us all, and it will take all of us to eradicate it from our lives.

Below are three of our latest contributions to the Quilt. I hope each of you will spread the word and consider making a contribution of your own. It’s free! To sign up go to: http://www.3daidsquilt.com/3d-quilt-application-form/

 

This room was created in memory of Jerry – whose hobby was rowing–by his friend Bradford McIntryre of Positively Positive fame. Visit his room to get a sense of being on the water with those who love to row. SLRUL: http://maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Storybook%20Island/88/168/26

 

This Quilt room was created for K. Alton, whose daughter Valley Luv describes him as, “One of a kind. So charming and full of life. He had a beautiful voice and loved to entertain. He was so smart and talented. He taught himself to paint.” Stop by and see this remarkable memorial with its photos of Elvis and wooden floor with stars. SLURL:http://maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Storybook%20Island/56/72/26

 

This is a contribution in honor of Sandra made by her sister Carrie. The setting is a garden where Sandra used to like to imagine that magical creatures lived. When you visit, see if you can find some! Here is the link: http://maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Storybook%20Island/56/200/26

Questions?  Want to take a tour?  Contact me: Jenaia@startledcat.com

 

Guilty Fun - The 3D AIDS Quilt

I don't know about the rest of you, but ever since becoming intrigued by virtual worlds and shifting a great deal of my work into them, I've experienced a niggling sense of guilt.  At first it had to do with the reaction I would get from friends, relatives, and colleagues. They really believed I had lost my way and was traveling down a slippery slope to financial and personal ruin.  One well meaning friend even accused me of joining a cult.  "Those people aren't real and neither are the relationships you have in that computer world of yours," she said indignantly.  "You have to get a real life again."

Since my real life at that point consisted of wound care, filling out insurance forms, and taking my mom to doctor's appointments, I wasn't too keen on taking her advice. Moreover, I was doing things in cyber space that tickled my imagination and gave me genuine joy as a writer and storyteller.  All my instincts said, "keep going!" so I guess it's no surprise that I ignored the naysayers in my life. 

Some of my guilt was relieved when I was hired to coordinate the work being done on Karuna, the HIV/AIDS island in Second Life for the National Library of Medicine.  It's amazing what a name like the NLM can do for your reputation.  If the big wigs in the NLM thought enough of what I was doing to pay me something every month, then I couldn't be entirely off my rocker, right?  My mother's reaction when I showed her a film we'd produced about the work being done on Karuna said it all. "I'm so happy your little hobby is keeping you busy and earning you some pocket money," she said.  "I saved the help wanted section of the classifieds for you.  Maybe you could find a real job there."

As the island flourished and our work broadened to include a new approach to storytelling called Story Quests, I noticed that the voice of guilt was quieter. Sometimes it was even possible to ignore it entirely.  It was, and still is loudest, when people I respect say, "Your work is great.  It is moving and powerful and inspiring, but how do you propose to prove its worth?  How will you assess its impact, define how it has changed or influenced behavior and measure outcomes?"

Ummm.......I confess to being a little confused.  People are moved and inspired but that's not enough? For the work to be "legitimate" it has to have an assessment and measurement model as well?  Don't get me wrong. I understand the importance of assessment.  Knowing what and how folks learn by participating in a story quest is a vital part of building and fine tuning the model. But why is the work less valid and less worthy of financial support without it? Why do potential partners say things like, "well it's great and a lot of fun, but...." and raise their eyebrows as if the implications are obvious?

I've finally concluded that a great deal of my guilt comes from what I call "Artistic Angst."  Every artist, whether a painter, sculptor, or writer feels it.  In trusting our hearts and souls as we begin to create, we enter new territory that stretches and opens us to new ideas - new ways of being.  If we are brave enough to want to share what we find with others, we are risking judgment and censure. Stretching and growing, as we all know, are neither comfortable or safe.  There is no guarantee that what we discover about ourselves will be pleasant or even useful.  When we ask others to grow and change with us, they are likely to resist, make excuses, and demand that we assure them with statistics and charts and white papers that the journey we are asking them to take is valid, worthwhile, and above all quantifiable.

Understanding all of the above after spending more than three years in virtual worlds helped a lot, but one tiny kernel of guilt remained.  I finally narrowed it down to a very simple emotion that has been bubbling and burbling like a sweet, carbonated soft drink since I tumbled into Second Life. The plain and simple truth is that I have FUN when I am working in virtual space. I feel guilty because somewhere during my "formative years" I learned that life and work are not supposed to be fun and that I was foolish and even arrogant to want them to be.  Who was I to think I was special enough to have fun while making a living?

Now that I have begun to confess my FUN secret, I find that the guilt is breaking up like a bad cold. There's a lot of old sticky stuff to get out of my system - all the old doubts and fears, the worries about what others will think and whether or not what I have created will "prove" to be worthwhile by "real" world standards. But by and large I am having the time of my life doing what I do best - finding new and creative ways to tell stories that spark the imaginations of others and encourage them to find and tell stories of their own.  In doing so - in breaking the silence and stigmas about topics such as HIV, PTSD, and aging by telling stories - I believe we can grow ourselves into more expansive, caring human beings. And that's FUN!

Won't you join me and my colleagues working in the field of HIV/AIDS education and research from around the world in our latest escapade - an enormous 3D AIDS Quilt?  The Quilt celebrates and commemorates the lives of those we've lost to AIDS, but more importantly it is at the heart of a global community dedicated to finding a cure.  It will live both in Second Life (for adults) and on Jokaydia Grid (for kids).

To learn more about the Quilt and contribute your own piece, please go to: www.3DAIDSQuilt.com

To visit the Quilt in Second Life, please use the SLURL below:

http://maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Storybook%20Island/168/128/26

Oh, and one last bit of FUN.  Here is a video that will put a big smile on your face:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2lXh2n0aPyw

The "T" Factor

I spent most of today trying to convince the talented builder working on Karuna's 3D AIDS Quilt to change the shape of the tree he was sculpting.  Simply put, he had combined two large round prims to represent the main, leafy portion of the tree.  He had many good reasons for putting the two pieces together in that particular configuration - it allowed him to create two chambers inside for displays, it did not interfere with the prim counts on other parts of the build, and it added symmetry and balance to the overall structure.  While I agreed that two balls did all of these things, the fact that they looked remarkably like testicles made me dead set against using them.

Having tried as many ways and as diplomatically as possible to dissuade him from pursuing that particular option, I was finally forced to use the "t" word.  Far from being embarrassed or insulted, he just shrugged and said in his very proper British accent, "Oh well if that's all," and immediately deleted the extra prim.  I had to laugh.  All in a day's work.

The "t" incident aside, work on the 3D AIDS Quilt is progressing smoothly at Storybook.  The Quilt is our latest project and was born of a desire to find new ways to bring individuals and organizations together to use virtuality to work on HIV/AIDS education and prevention.  What if folks could create 3D memorials to their loved ones and learn about prevention and treatment in an immersive and entertaining space?  What if they had a reason to come back again and again to see what others have done, contribute additional names, and share their stories?

If you still can't quite imagine what we're doing, I invite you to come on by and watch the Quilt evolve: http://slurl.com/secondlife/Storybook%20Island/88/168/2
We had a terrific bunch of 20 or so from a class on creating virutal worlds earlier.  They stayed just long enough to ask some good questions and dance at bit.

Better yet, if you would like to be one of the first to build a piece of the quilt, IM me (Jenaia Morane) and we will arrange to get you set up.

In addition to the Quilt itself, which is composed of seven dozen pieces, there is an interactive, immersive learning center which will be housed in the branches of the aforementioned tree.  Visitors will be able to view and explore a 3D model of the Human Immunodeficiency Virus (HIV), watch how it infects a cell, and learn about HIV history from the musings of an educator and a poet.  In short, it all should be entertaining as well as educational.

The Quilt will officially debut as part of the 2010 World AIDS Day celebrations on December first.  Check back here for further updates or just drop by Karuna (http://maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Karuna/136/123/22) or Storybook to see how things are progressing. 

If you are in a volunteering frame of mind, contact Jenaia Morane inworld, or email me at jenaia.morane@gmail.com to receive an assignment.  World AIDS Day is always a production and we can use all the help we can get.  

 

 

 

Puzzling Place

I know it's time, the way I knew it was time to take our 18-year-old spaniel to the vet when she stopped eating.  By virtual standards, the island has led a long and storied life - literally.  Storybook was where I developed and led my first Story Quest - a seven-step journey that takes participants up the side of an old volcano to write about their adventures as avatars.  It has also hosted and housed a whole series of increasingly ambitious Quests as I explored how immersive, interactive stories can be used to change attitudes and behavior.  More importantly, however, Storybook has been my virtual home - the place I've come to build and dream, dance in trees, and sit with friends around campfires to discuss everything from Linden Lab's latest faux pas to the state of education in America.

"I just can't seem to make myself do it," I tell a close friend.  "Everywhere I look I see something I've poured my time, energy and imagination into.  It feels like I'm killing a living thing."

Even as I say these things, the intellectual part of my mind is marveling at the intensity of my feelings - by how much I have invested in this pixelated space.  "How is it possible," I wonder, "to feel so connected to and protective of a digitally rendered piece of land?  There is no actual grass on Storybook to tickle my toes, no sparkling water to quench my thirst or sun to warm my back.  "In addition,"  the dispassionate, logical left hemisphere of my brain continues, "the island can always be rebuilt later.  It's not like a physical place with buildings and trees and bridges that would take years to clear and even longer to restore.  Theoretically Storybook could be flattened and rebuilt in a day."

Theoretcially.  As my avatar walks up the side of the volcano, I am reminded of the many environmental and nature writers I've interviewed over the years.  Without exception they talk about the importance and power of place - how a piece of land, whether its a tiny farm in the foothills of the Appalachians or the rocky, wind-swept coast of the Pacific Northwest - can work its way into your blood and bones, imprinting you with the smell of its soil, it's particular mix of bird songs, and angles of light.  E.O. Wilson, the controversial, Pulitzer Prize winning author of "Biophilia" would say that we are genetically programmed to need our connections to the planet and the web of life that calls it home.  Moreoever, it is by a combination of scientific study and imaginative engagement with this life that our humanity is nurtured and grows.

But what does all this have to do with an island in Second Life?  In some ways it seems counterintuitive to feel a connection to a digital place.  Isn't a world created by computers - rendered in pixels and at best approximating the richness and diversity of the physical world - the antithesis of what we really require? 

On the other hand, there was my avatar - a consciously contrived, living expression of the same "self" that infuses this carbon-based body with passions and dreams - sitting on a stump at the edge of a volcano inspired by a speck of land in the Pacific Ocean called Kahoolawe.  Both were real, their "reality" and value determined not by the materials from which they were formed, but by what they provoked, inspired, and grew in me and what I in turn have been able to share with others.  Is the one (virtual reality) dependent on the other (physical reality)?  Of course.  Is one better than the other? In my humble opinion, no.

I would amend E. O. Wilson's Biophilia theory to say that in addition to being genetically programmed to require a connection to Earth, we are genetically engineered to require a connection to spirit - that in fact the two infuse and inform one another.  In fact, the more places, spaces and ways we find to "be" - to explore and express our stories - the more satisfying and rewarding our lives become and the closer we get to figuring out what we're doing here in the first place. The trick of course is not to abandon one for the other - to take what we've learned in all realities and apply it to all our lives.

The wonderful poet Rumi wrote:

"A story is like water
that you heat for your bath.

It takes messages between the fire
and your skin.  It lets them meet,
and it cleans you!

Water, stories, the body,
all the things we do, are mediums
that hide and show what's hidden.

Study them,
and enjoy this being washed
by a secret we sometimes know,
and then not."

Storybook, I realized, has allowed me to find and share the "secret" of who I am through stories.  In its new incarnation as the home of the 3D AIDS Quilt, it will help others do the same.

If you would like to say good-bye to Storybook in its current incarnation feel free to stop by:

SLURL:  http://slurl.com/secondlife/Storybook%20Island/87/161/22

 

 

 

Pondering Presence

My cat and I are like an old married couple.  She knows I like to sleep until at least 6:00 am.  I know that around 4:30 or 5:00 she begins to get hungry and will start to pester me.  During the ensuing 90 minutes, we go through a daily dance:

• She jumps on the bed and flops against me, purring loudly.

• I groan and roll over, still half asleep.

• She casually, and with all the weight she can muster in her four little paws, walks across my stomach to the other side of the bed.

• I jump, mutter, and dive beneath the blankets.

• If I still refuse to budge she begins to gently but firmly bite my toes.

On all but one occasion, the toe thing has gotten me up and fumbling for the cat food without further delay.  The one time I was so deeply asleep that nibbling toes didn't work, I awoke to find her wet nose inches from my face and her paw in my mouth. Ick!

All this was to say that my cat is truly a presence in my life, so when I began to build an immersive story in virtual space that included a house for my main character, I added a tabby cat as well.  Happily she can't bite toes, but she does flick her ears and tail, visibly breathes, and meows when touched.  She also does something my physical friend can only hint at with her enigmatic green eyes.  My virtual feline shares words of wisdom in text chat.  These short phrases come from Zen Buddhist teachings and are activated when a visitor touches her nose.  Without fail, both the presence of a virtual cat and the insightful words she spits out delight visitors.  My virtual kitty appears real, but is not in the physical sense.  She is, however, very much present.

In a completely differnt scenario, a friend and I recently sat down across a table at a local coffee shop to talk.  He insisted on sitting with his back to the wall and crossed his arms defensively.  His blue eyes were troubled.  Eventually, as we talked, his body language began to change.  He leaned across the table, doodled his ideas on a napkin, and eventually smiled into my eyes.

A few days later, I was sitting in a similar cafe in virtual space holding a cup of digital espresso listening to another friend share the results of her latest medical tests.  This friend is someone I've known for more than three years, though we have never met in the "flesh."  On that day I was communicating with her in text as opposed to voice since she was at work and didn't have a headset.  I couldn't see her eyes and could only guess at her body language, but the words and feelings flew between us.  Later, she emailed to thank me, saying, "it was great to talk to someone who listens so well."

Thinking back on the conversation, I knew that I had "listened" with some part of my self that was tuned into and focused on the person and personality behind the words she was typing.  Again, though not physically in the same room with her, I was completely present.

A few weeks later, I experienced what it's like to be unable to be present.  A group of us had gathered in physical space to watch and participate in a forum taking place in Second Life.  The program was delivered in voice, but the audience was encouraged to comment and ask questions in text chat.  In the phsyical room, we projected the entire scene on a large screen and piped in the audio via two excellent speakers.  While we watched the animated and fast paced commentary going on between the avatars in Second Life, those watching in physical space were singularly unimpressed.  Though they could have commented, they sat passively watching, and their faces were masks of polite indifference.

Afterwards, we had a great discussion about their inability to relate to or connect with the participants in the Second Life forum.  It's important to note that these were not socially or intellectually inept folks.  They wanted to be engaged, but simply were not.  As Tony O'Driscoll, co-author with Karl Kapp of the marvelous book, "Learning in 3D" put it, "I really wanted to get excited and feel like I was part of the discussion, but I couldn't.  I wasn't there."

What Tony was saying was that displaying the images from Second Life on a screen and hearing the audio were not enough to allow him to feel engaged enough to want to be an active participant.  He felt like an outside observer, or as Sabine Volmer a journalist who was also present that day put it, "it was a bit like listening to a radio show.  I was just a passive observer."  What both Tony and Sabine needed was to be "inworld" as avatars, to be able to see through avatar eyes, sit on the virtual chairs, and feel the excitement that was being generated as new ideas were tossed back and forth across the virtual room.  They needed to immersive themselves to feel present.

Think about what we're saying for a moment.  The reason we feel present as an avatar is because we are able - through a combination of tactile engagement with the viewer via our keyboards and visual perception - to step into the virtual space.  It's almost as if we pour our selves, our essences, into the pixels, picking up on and responding to the virtual environment in subtle ways that make it and the other people in it very real to us.  As a result, our brains, and through them our physical bodies, respond.  Is it any wonder then that research is showing that watching your avatar exercise stimulates the parts of the brain that get activated when you are exercising in the physical world?  

But I actually believe it goes further than just a physiological response. I would argue that once that suspension of disbelief happens, and we are immersed and engaged in virtual reality - perceiving and responding to it and those who share it with us as real - we are empathically, emotionally, and spiritually present as well.  Moreover, in order to make that leap, we are using skill sets and perceptions that we have only begun to notice and understand.  Clearly presence has less to do with actual physical location and everything to do with immersion and interactivity.  Likewise, reality is less about tangible, physical objects and more about what our hearts and minds can "feel" is real. 

All this is not to discount the importance of the physical world, but to offer the delicious possibility that we are capable and perhaps even uniquely suited to experience our selves in many realities.  And maybe, just maybe, in meeting, exploring, and pushing the envelope of who and what we think we are in virtual worlds we may come away with a broader and more holistic perception of what it means to be human.