Analytics

Not too long ago, Squarespace finally released an iPad-compatible version of their website-building app. Needless to say, I was excited. I try do as much as I can on my iPad, and not being able to do all of my web work on my favorite device irritated me to no end.

The @squarespace app is finally on iPad, and I could not be happier! Literally the last thing keeping me from using my iPad Pro for all personal projects. Thanks, Squarespace team!

— Devon Michael Dundee (@devondundee) April 29, 2019

When I opened the app for the first time, I felt like a kid unwrapping a present. I beamed as I navigated through different sections of the app, browsing editable versions of my webpages, adjusting settings, and previewing the site on different screen sizes. It was thrilling! The thing I had been requesting for so long was finally here, and it was everything I wanted it to be.

Actually, it was a little more than I wanted it to be. In addition to Squarespace’s editing tools, the app also includes a brief overview of the website’s analytics data. One of the first things you see when you open the app is a trio of charts that show how your site has been performing lately. This feature of the app was unexpected, and to be honest, it threw me off a bit.

I’ve always maintained a healthy distance from analytics of any sort when it comes to my creative projects, especially this website. This is my place of expression, a way for me to share my life with others. And it’s always been my fear that if I started down the analytics rabbit hole, I wouldn’t ever reemerge. Instead of focusing on creating the best content possible, I’d become distracted by getting the most page views possible. I don’t ever want to sully this space with that sort of pressure.

So when I saw the charts, my initial response was to look away. But it was too late; I had already seen too much. My curiosity was piqued, so I went back to the analytics page and dug in a little bit. And what I found intrigued me.

I’m not sure what I was expecting, but the numbers seemed pretty good to me. It’s an honor that anyone would take the time to read what I have to say, much less several people every week. I would much rather gauge this blog’s success on the value it adds to lives of those of you reading, but if sheer numbers are any indication, things look to be going well. Thank you so much for being part of that.

The interesting part, though, was the section that highlighted my most popular content. The home page had the most views, as expected, with the blog and about pages coming in right after it. But the most visited blog post by far was this one from 2017 entitled Questions We Ask After a Tragedy. Not only is it my most popular article of all time; it’s the most popular one on my site month after month, performing better even than new pieces that I post each week.

Finding this out was baffling to me. I had no idea that people were still reading an article I wrote nearly two years ago and shared a couple of times on social media. To be honest, I’ve always been extremely proud of that piece and the entire series that it’s a part of. I consider it some of the best—and most difficult—stuff I’ve ever written. But I never imagined that it would still be having an impact today.

Why would people still be reading that particular piece now? Did it just happen to get caught up in some search engine somewhere? Maybe. Did a bot latch onto it for reasons unknown to any of us? It’s definitely possible. But I like to think that the article is somehow being found by people seeking comfort in the midst of tragedy, and I hope they’re finding it there. If it’s still accomplishing that even for a few, then I consider it one of my greatest successes.

Looking at the analytics, I briefly had the thought, “This article seems to be working! I should write more like it.” But such ideas are futile. Articles like that one can only be written organically and under the right conditions. It has to come from the heart. If I tried to force out a deep theological musing on the state of the world every week, it would come across as insincere, and I’d probably end up repeating myself. That’s not what this is about.

I’m here to share my life, experiences, and thoughts with you in the hopes that you might find value in them. If a particular article strikes a chord with people, that means I’m doing a good job. If some of them don’t, that’s OK, too. Maybe the less popular articles are just for me. Self-expression can be a reward in and of itself.

I always feared that checking the numbers would change my approach to writing, but it actually did just the opposite: It reinforced my commitment to doing this the right way. I love making this site, and I’m so thankful for each and everyone one of you reading it.

Analytics can be helpful, but only up to a point. I might check them from time to time just to make sure I’m not screaming into the void or completely missing out on what’s important to those around me, but I won’t let the numbers rule my process. As long as someone out there is reading these articles and getting something out of them, I’m happy. Thank you for taking a chance on being that someone this week. I hope it was worth it.

A Lot

Life is just so full of ambiguity.

At any given moment, including this one, at least one of the seven billion or so people on this planet is experiencing sheer joy. Elation. They’ll probably look back on this moment as the best in their life. A turning point where everything changed for the better. A positive health report. A promotion at work. A hard-fought breakthrough in a relationship. There is always something amazing happening in the world around us.

However, at the same time—in that exact same moment—someone else out there is facing the end of the world as they know it. Utter tragedy. This is the moment that they’ll spend forever trying to forget. And if they ever have the strength to look back on it, they will only be able to do so somberly. Disappointment. Betrayal. Loss. All of these things are taking place in our world, too.

And these two extremities of life, the high and the low, they coexist at all times. They pop in and out of our individual lives in varying degrees, but they are always present somewhere. In some unexplainable way, our world—our very existence—makes room for both the greatest of human triumph and the heaviest of human suffering.

We each know this to be true. Who among us hasn’t experienced both times of joy and times of grief in the course of our lives? But even as we do, we still struggle to reconcile the good with the bad.

Acknowledging and accepting this ambiguity that is so foundational to human experience is no easy task. And to be honest, I’ve been grappling with it recently.

I am so thankful for my life. God has blessed me in ways that I could never possibly deserve. I am content, I am fulfilled, and I am happy. I have so much to be thankful for, and I see so much good in my life and in the lives of those around me.

But when I look around, I see others, including people I love, who are suffering terribly. Some are grieving loved ones. Some are struggling to find their purpose or even just to survive. And I wonder: How could all of these things possibly be happening at the same time?

How can I be happy when some of my fellow human beings are despondent? Who am I to enjoy the good that others can’t experience right now? Why does there always have to be both?

Sometimes, it almost feels like too much.

In Ecclesiastes, Quohelet expresses his exasperation with life in this way: “Vanity of vanities, all is vanity” (1.2, NKJV). I’m not quite to that point, at least not yet. But I have come up with my own way of expressing my discomfort with the ambiguity I see around me. Here’s how I put it:

Life is good, but it’s also a lot.

I like to think that life overall is a good thing. We can each find fulfillment and joy in this life, and we each have opportunities to leave a mark and make the world a better place for others. But in the midst of all that good, there’s a good deal of bad mixed in. And when it all comes together, it’s a lot to handle.

It’s not even that life is overwhelming, though it sometimes can be. But even when it’s not more than we can bear, life is still confusing because of its ambiguous nature. Because it’s messy. Because it’s never just one way or the other. There will always be good and bad in life, and thus, life will always, always be a lot.

As I consider the suffering around me, I think about the times in my life when I’ve experienced pain. I will never fully know the pain of others because I am not them, just as they are not me. And the amount of privilege I’ve been given shields from certain types of suffering that others endure on a daily basis. But regardless, I have known pain in my own way, and when I consider it, I realize something important.

The bad things I’ve experienced in my life do nothing to diminish the joy I feel when life is good. In the same way, the good things don’t stop me from hurting deeply when the bad times come. These two can coexist because they do not infringe on one another. Each leaves the other be, and we need both if we are to experience a full life.

A full life doesn’t shy away from either the good or the bad. We enjoy the highest of highs, but we also endure the lowest of lows. And in accepting both, we learn from them. We grow. We become better because of them, not in spite of them. And through it all, we are able to make the world better for someone else as a result of what we’ve been through.

Because the truth is that no matter where we find ourselves in life, there will always be elements of both good and bad. If we choose to develop the maturity to recognize and become comfortable with both, we’ll be much more well-equipped to handle the things that life throws at us.

I made a commitment long ago that no matter what I was feeling, good or bad, I would always allow myself to feel it fully without suppressing or denying it. When things are good, I am happy. And when they are not, I don’t force myself to pretend to be so.

That is not to say that I don’t regulate my emotions and behaviors to keep myself healthy and appropriate; I do. But I also don’t deny myself the ability to feel what I’m feeling at any given time because in that moment, I need to feel it.

I’m not sure that I’ll ever fully make peace with the ambiguity of life, but I’m trying. It helps to know that no matter how much bad I see in the world or even experience in my own life, there is always good out there, too. Learning to appreciate the good while accepting the bad in my life and being sensitive to the bad in others’ lives is something I’m always working to do. Maybe you’ll find it helpful, too.

Life is good, but it’s also a lot. May we each recognize that, accept it, and live our lives to the fullest. Thanks for reading, friends.

No Spoilers

Last weekend, Avengers: Endgame made history by becoming the first movie to earn $1 billion on its opening weekend. Among others, it also broke the records for highest-earning domestic weekend and for the most ever ticket sales for showings the night before its premiere. (Haven’t you heard that movies actually come out on Thursdays now?) Because it was the culmination of a huge film series that’s garnered the adoration of so many people, the premiere was a really big deal.

And no movie release of that scale could come without some level of controversy. The biggest problem Endgame and its fans had to face? Spoilers.

Even before the film debuted, the cast and directors themselves were reaching out to fans, begging them not to ruin the experience for others by talking about the big plot reveals in public. The hashtag DontRuinTheEndgame trended on and off all week. As critics were allowed to post their reviews, each had to clarify whether or not their review was spoiler-free. And fans went to great lengths, including total social media blackouts, to avoid any and all details about what they were about to see.

You see, nothing can ruin a movie more quickly than being told beforehand how it ends. When we go to see a movie (or read a book or watch a TV show), we usually want to go in without any foreknowledge of what we’re about to experience. A big part of enjoying the story is going through the journey in the way its creators intended. If you already know the big twist, then its impact will be severely diminished. What fun is that?

When it comes to the fictional stories that we enjoy as entertainment, spoilers are treated like a poison. We avoid them at all cost because we don’t them to ruin the experience for us. Maybe we would do well to apply that same logic and level of commitment to our own lives.

Here’s what I mean: I am a planner through and through. No matter what I’m doing, I have to go into it with a course of action in mind. Whether it’s something as simple as cleaning dishes or as important as considering the direction of my life, I have an innate desire to know what’s coming next. And I imagine I’m not the only one.

Left unchecked, this compulsion to plan leads down some unhappy roads: impatience to get to the next step, frustration when life doesn’t go according to plan, resentment about what could have been, and so on. If our lives are grand stories unfolding—and they are—then we’re the ones angrily mashing the fast forward button and trying to see what comes at the end.

The desire for what comes can ruin the journey. Because life isn’t just about whatever we’re looking forward to. It’s about what’s happening right now. If we’re not enjoying the journey now, then there’s really nothing down the road that can satisfy us. We’ll find ourselves constantly looking ahead to the next big thing instead of savoring the path that leads us there.

And isn’t that how spoilers ruin movies? By moving the focus away from the journey and onto the end? If we already know what happens, then what’s the point in going through it all? But really, the conclusion doesn’t mean much at all unless it’s earned. We recognize the importance of the journey when it comes to movies, but if we’re not careful, we can completely miss it in our own lives.

In the trailer for Avengers: Endgame, Tony Stark points out that, “Part of the journey is the end.” And that’s very true. But on the flip side, the end is only part of the journey. And the rest of the journey has value, too. Endgame wouldn’t be such a payoff if we hadn’t started with Iron Man more than ten years ago. The end is worth it because of the journey, not in spite of it.

So it is in our own lives. We don’t need spoilers to enjoy the journey of life. We don’t need to be constantly searching for what comes next. Because if we’re always looking toward the end, we won’t be able to enjoy the middle, which to be honest, is where most of us find ourselves right now. And that isn’t a terrible place to be.

The big payoff will come in its time. But for now, why don’t we just kick back, enjoy the journey, and not try to spoil the ending for ourselves? We know it’ll be worth it, but only if we embrace the journey first.

Normal

Katherine and I have been married for six months now, and probably the most surprising thing about marriage thus far is just how normal it feels. I don’t mean that as a bad thing; actually, it’s quite the opposite. I thought that such a huge life change would come with a good deal of discomfort and even some growing pains, but actually, it’s felt completely natural.

The move. The new rhythm. The chores. The whole “sharing a bed with another person” thing. All of it has felt perfectly normal every step of the way, and I love that.

Truth is, I can’t imagine my life being any different than it is right now. I love my routine. I love where I live. I love what I do. I love everything about it. This feels like the way my life should be.

Of course, I could have said the same about my life a year ago. Back then, I was content. I loved my life, and I couldn’t imagine it being any different. It felt normal to me.

But looking back on it now, I can’t imagine going back to living the way I did then. It’s hard to believe that I ever did. A year ago, I was living with my dad. I had two monthly bills I was responsible for: Netflix and my phone. The most valuable thing I owned was my movie collection. And I was waking up early every morning to pick up my then fiancé from her dad’s house for work. That life feels so abnormal to me now, but it felt right back then.

Katherine and I hope to someday have children, and when we do, we’ll look back on this time of life and think about how weird it seems. Parenting will feel normal, and this care-free, newlywed life will be completely foreign to us. We’ll wonder, “What did we do with all that free time?” and then we’ll remember we spent most of it binge-watching TV.

I think our brains are (for the most part) really good at adjusting to our current circumstances and convincing us that they are normal. I’m grateful that our brains do this for us, because it allows us to face reality and to function within it. Better to live out the life you have than to spend all your time dreaming of another, right? This is a wonderful tool for human resilience.

But it comes at a cost. Because if we’re not careful, it can take away the awe that our lives should inspire within us.

In reality, no phase of life is normal. Each one is special, unique, and wonderful in its own way. And if we don’t take the time to recognize that and appreciate where we are, we’ll soon find that it’s too late. Life will have moved on, and us with it.

Our lives are meant to be more than just a series of phases that pass us by like a blur. They’re meant to be rich, full, and fully lived. That’s not to say that every moment is easy; it’s certainly not. But no matter what phase of life you find yourself in, there are opportunities for joy, for growth, and for fulfillment. Choosing to pursue those opportunities is what makes each phase enjoyable.

As mundane as it may feel, your life is not normal. It’s one-of-a-kind, it’s ripe with prospects, and it’s yours to do with what you will. In a word, it’s awesome, meaning that it has the ability to inspire awe in you if you’ll only let it. The choice is really up to you.

I’ll say it again: I love my life. I feel like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be right now. And that is a very reassuring feeling. But that doesn’t mean that my life will always be this way, so I’m trying to be intentional and enjoy this phase for all it’s worth. I’m sure the next phase will be just as wonderful—if not more so—but for now, I’m just living my “normal” life and loving it. I hope you are, too.

Masculinity

I think I’m just getting to the age where I can truly process my adolescent experiences. I don’t dwell on those days often, but when I do, I find that I can approach them with a clarity and emotional detachment that I simply wasn’t capable of before. I’m not sure why. Maybe my frontal lobes are finally done forming; or maybe those feelings just aren’t so raw anymore. Regardless, it’s made for much more healthy, productive reflection than I’ve had on this subject before.

In high school, I was a bit different from other people my age. Well, mostly just the boys. I fit in with the girls just fine. But other guys never really accepted me as part of the group, because I didn’t fit their description of what a guy should be.

My voice was a little higher and more nasally than theirs, with just a hint of a lisp to it. Whereas other boys tended to keep their feelings to themselves, I had no problem expressing my emotions openly to anyone who would listen. I wore skinny jeans long before they were popular. And I loved to feature bright colors in my outfits, whether it be a purple wristband, a neon tie-dye t-shirt, or bright yellow athletic shorts. (Yes, really.)

Growing up, I was expressive. I was eccentric. And I was a little too much for my male peers to handle.

It may not be true everywhere, but where I’m from, people have a very narrow definition of masculinity. Men are supposed to be strong, independent, rugged, and tough. And boys are taught that if they want to be “good,” then they have to exhibit these traits as well. They’re indoctrinated with rules from a young age that are meant to reinforce culture’s gender norms.

• Boys play rough.
• Boys don’t cry.
• Boys take charge.
• Boys compete—and win at all costs.

These expectations are placed on boys and men as a standard for them to live up to. But I never bought into all of that stuff, and I paid a heavy price for it.

I wasn’t raised with those kinds of expectations. I was never told I had to act a certain way or play a certain way or be a certain way because of my biological sex. My parents simply allowed me to be myself, and that included buying me the doll I begged them for one Christmas when I was little. That included allowing me to dress the way I wanted to. That included showing up to my sports games and then showing up to my choir concerts and musical performances when I realized sports weren’t for me.

I’m thankful that my parents never tried to force me to fit into some outside standard of masculinity. But I wasn’t immune to those expectations. They simply came from somewhere else: my peers.

I didn’t fit my male classmates’ preconceived notions of what a boy should be. I didn’t play sports. I didn’t date a lot. I didn’t act tough or repress my feelings. And based on those observations, my peers came to the conclusion that there had to be something about me that made me so different.

The explanation they landed on was that I must be gay. And they had no qualms about letting me know about their theory. “Bullying” is probably too strong a term for what I experienced, but I was consistently referred to as gay (and many derogatory terms along those lines) by my classmates.

Of course, they meant this not only as a way of explaining my non-conforming behavior, but also as a means of punishing me for it. Where I’m from, being labeled “gay” is considered an insult. And I had that label hurled at me every single day of high school.

To be clear, I wasn’t gay. And I wasn’t too bothered by the accusations because I knew that they were wrong. But the way the other boys treated me did make me wonder why I wasn’t like them, and just as they did, I sought an explanation.

Which is what led me to identify for a long time as a metrosexual. The term is still somewhat elusive, but it basically refers to a straight man who cares about his looks. In my mind at the time, it was a way to explain how I was seemingly effeminate without being gay. I felt like I owed the world an explanation for who I was, and that was the only way I could find to do it.

Once I got out of my hometown and went to college, I was exposed to a much broader understanding of the world and, with it, a broader understanding of masculinity. No longer was I tied to the legalistic definition of manhood that was forced upon me growing up. Instead, I was able to see what real, healthy masculinity looks like: things like being a good person, being there for those you love, protecting those in need, and using your gifts to make the world a better place. That’s what being a man is about.

It took a long time, but eventually, I came to the realization that I am a man. I’m the man that I am meant to be. And trying to live up to someone else’s standard of masculinity for so long was only preventing me from truly being me.

Looking back, it seems ridiculous that I ever relied on a label like “metrosexual” to understand myself. Although I would never devalue the peace and meaning someone else may gain from identifying as such, I’ve come to realize that it is not for me. I know now what I couldn’t know back then—that there is absolutely nothing wrong with me. I am a straight man with my own personal mannerisms, interests, and forms of expression. I am exactly who God made me to be, and no one can ever make me apologize for that.

Society tried to force me into its narrow understanding of what masculinity should be, and I pushed back against it. When I did, I was made to feel like I was the problem, and I had to come up with new language to reconcile my own experience with the lies I was being fed about what it means to be a man. Although I came out the other side secure in who I am and willing to forgive the forces that wronged me, it is my goal to ensure that my own children don’t have to face the same pressures and struggles that I did.

When it comes to other people, we get so caught up in the shoulds, in trying to define how others should live their lives. But when we spend so much time forcing our expectations on people, we never get a chance to know them for who they really are. Sometimes, we don’t even give them to chance to find out who they are themselves. And when we do that, we’re doing them, ourselves, and the world a disservice.

As far as I’m concerned, the only thing people should do is be themselves and work to become the best version of themselves that they can be. We are each created different for a reason, and we each have something unique to offer. Why would we stifle that by trying to make everyone else look just like us?

I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be like everyone else. I want to be me. And I want you to be you. And I want my nieces and my nephews and my future children to be themselves, too. I don’t ever want my preconceived notions of who they should be to get in the way of who they truly are.

So I’m committing to root out the shoulds in my own worldview. We all have them, whether they be cultural gender norms or something else. And we all try to force them on other people, but we don’t have to. So let’s stop. Let’s allow people to be who they are and simply appreciate them for it. I’m thankful I’ve always had at least a few people willing to do that for me, and I want to do that for others. How about you?