Welcome back to those of you treading lightly. Last week we logged a few metaphorical miles on the treadmill. Perhaps you found poetry in the whir of the belt or imagined laundry staging a protest from the handlebars. Maybe you contemplated the absurdity of running nowhere fast or designed a vacation-only avatar who jogs through digital Switzerland while you watch cable news. However you moved (or didn’t), I hope you broke a small sweat in the name of creative play.
This week, we’re staying put again — but this time, we’re reaching for control. Your creative nudge is the remote control.
Look around. How many remotes live in your house? One for the television. One for the sound bar. One for the ceiling fan. One for the garage door. One that claims to do it all. And at least two whose original purpose has been lost to time.
The remote was designed with the human in mind. It is a symbol of convenience, a friction remover. Why stand up to change the channel when you can simply move your thumb? Why cross the room when you can command from the couch? The remote allows us to alter our environment without altering our position. It promises efficiency. It delivers access.
But have you ever skimmed 200 channels and still found nothing to watch? My smart television remote has one touch buttons for four different streaming services. The remote offers options but not necessarily discernment. It hands us a power tool missing a button for reflection.
And yet, it’s not a villain. A manual world wouldn’t necessarily be better. The remote is a logical tool in a world humming with stimulating visual entertainment. It helps us manage that consumer complexity. It is, in its own plastic way, an elegant extension of our reach.
Who isn’t tempted by the offer of “one device to rule them all?” It’s not just a fantasy from Middle-earth. Universal remotes. Smart home hubs. Ideally, ones that can be controlled even when we are not home. A single interface that bends our home world to our will.
No need to prove to anyone that you are already the master of your universe. Stay where you are, and button-smash until the batteries die with one or more of these creative shorts:
1. Remote Tell All: Hold the remote without looking at it. Run your fingers over the worn buttons. Which ones are smooth from overuse? Which ones are strictly decorative? Write a short monologue from the remote’s perspective. Is it exhausted from being grabbed mid-nap? Bitter about being lost in the couch cushions? Proud of its role in family movie night diplomacy? Let it confess.
2. Button Cartography: Examine a remote as if you’ve never seen one before. Notice the layout, the clusters, the hierarchy of size and color. Sketch it like an archaeologist documenting an artifact from a long-lost civilization. Which buttons seem most important? Which are decorative? Reimagine the design entirely — what would a remote look like if it prioritized curiosity over speed? Or kindness over volume?
3. Battery Meditation: Hold a remote that no longer works because the batteries are dead. Feel its weight. Notice your own internal reaction. Mild annoyance? Acceptance? Indifference? Write a short reflection about “dead batteries” in your own life. Where are you running on empty? What still has shape and potential but needs recharging?
4. The Taste of Choice: For one evening, limit your choices intentionally. Instead of flipping endlessly through options for dinner, select the fourth ingredient you see in your pantry and build a small snack around it. Or if out for a meal, pick a random number between 1 and 10 and choose that item from the menu. Notice how restriction affects your enjoyment. How does your number of options affect how you feel about your decisions?
5. Remotely Controlled: Stand in the center of a room with the remote in your hand. Without pressing anything, slowly move your arm in wide arcs, imagining you are controlling invisible forces beyond the walls. What gestures feel powerful? Which feels ridiculous? Turn this into a short silent performance piece, a choreography of invisible influence. Notice how your body interprets authority when there is nothing responding.
The remote control is ready evidence that we things to be easy. We want options. We want the illusion of control. And perhaps we do control some things. But creativity? That’s not a button you press once and forget. Creativity requires a little intention. Sometimes it even asks you to stand up and cross the room.
This column was written with the help of ChatGPT 5.2, used as a creative collaborator in my ongoing exploration of how humans can stay human in an era of unprecedented technological change.
