The Waymo and the Wall: Moving the Center of Gravity
A friend who lives in San Francisco got this image for me as she too passed the ‘life is short’ wall.
It was the strangest thing. It seemed to come out of nowhere. I’m not sure how to describe it other than to say, it felt like what had been hollow had somehow been filled in.
Let me try to explain it another way. A few years ago, I was in San Francisco for work. As I was in the Uber on my way back to the airport after a very quick trip, I looked over to the lane beside us and saw the strangest thing. It looked like a toy car, but it was a real, full-sized vehicle. Today, Waymos are becoming universal, but back then, I had no idea what this strange car was with its swirling antennae and the cameras at each corner. I glimpsed the logo and was able to Google it so as not to have to admit I was a bit of a "country bumpkin" to my Uber driver.
What was crazy to me at the time was how the cameras and antennae were moving about, taking everything in. That is the way a Waymo functions: everything points outward, checking the environment, scanning the perimeter, seeing what is around it to ensure its own safety.
Not long after spotting the Waymo, I happened to look out the other side of the car window and caught a phrase painted in black on a white brick wall: Life is Short. Be Yourself.
The two images—the Waymo with all of its cameras pointing outward and that simple command—began to weave themselves into my pondering.
The thing is, when we live our lives with all of our "cameras" pointing outward, it is as though we are like the little bird in the children’s story going around and asking all the animals, "Are you my mother?" We seek our validation from everyone and everything around us: Who should I be? Am I enough? What do you need from me? Who do you want me to be? We are constantly asking permission, seeking validation, and trying to gain recognition from a world we are scanning for safety.
But life is short. Why spend it always looking "outside" for permission? Why live as a hollow shell designed only to react to the environment?
The other night, I felt that shift. It was the feeling of lowering my center of gravity. If you’ve ever ridden a horse, or gone stand-up paddleboarding, or surfed, you know the feeling. There is a state of being "wobbly," as though the smallest wave or unexpected gust of wind would topple you right over. That happens when your center of gravity is up high—up in your chest, tight and anxious. It is a precarious feeling, where a single "bump" in the road feels like a catastrophe.
But if you can intentionally lower that center of gravity—moving it down from your chest into your core, down into your pelvis—a literal, physical grounding occurs. All of a sudden you realize that a little bump is just that: a bump. It won’t actually knock you down. You can move through it, maintain your balance, and continue moving forward.
This is the feeling of being "filled in." It is the transition from having your cameras pointed outward to actually inhabiting your own life.
The paradox is that it is only from this place—this place of balance and internal density—that you are truly able to be present for others. When you interact with others you aren’t scanning for how you should perform. Because you aren’t seeking approval or working for recognition, you are simply available to listen and be present.
When you are "filled in," you are no longer a Waymo scanning for threats or directions. You are the driver. The "bumps" or "waves" that would have previously knocked you over come and go, and you just keep moving.
Life is short. Be yourself. Be present to yourself.
