When I am “hooked in” trivial life can feel more exciting and validating. And when the world feels a little lonely or small- simply logging on exposes me to droves of people from the past and present ready to “like” me: validation, information and connection. It’s there for the taking, if you want it.
I have one email address for work, one for school, one for a side eBay business and another still for personal use. Three of these accounts get sent to my phone. My daily life is a slew of incoming information and messages. I get texts, tweets, and emails rocking round the clock and calls via phone, Skype and Google. But it almost feels passé to use the phone now, doesn’t it? If I am making plans with a friend sometimes I’ve got to check six places to see how they messaged a time and location. “I figured you would get this email as fast as any text.”
Everyone has a bedtime routine. Like most, I start with brushing teeth. But then I plug in. I set the alarm app on my phone, making sure it is wired to the wall. I set my laptop on my nightstand; loaded up with the next thing in my Netflix queue; a life source as important as my MacBook must be charged overnight. It’s sad when you realize you can’t fall asleep without the lullaby background noise of a television show. It was in this pre-bed plug in process on Wednesday that I had a realization; I’ve become so good at connecting that I must become better at disconnecting. I set a goal on the spot, for 24 hours of tech solitude, desperate for a passport-free mini retreat to the jungles of my undisrupted mind.
By 9 am the next morning I had failed miserably. I had texted my roommate, checked email and monitored a bidding war on eBay. Perhaps 24 hours was too lofty a goal for my first go. I totally blame my environment; it dictates the need for being wired up. As a student of emergent media, I certainly can’t have live Wi-Fi less life. But an addict would never get away with those excuses at a 12-step meeting. What have I become?
For the past four summers I have spent time with a handful of good ol’buds in Caroga, NY. There is a camp there, deep in the Adirondack wilderness, which belongs to a friend’s family. The property is only accessible by boat and is an amazingly rustic and secluded hideaway. Every time I drive there I know the exact landmark where I will loose my cell service for the length of my stay. I have observed a difference in the relationships with these friends on our backcountry vacations. We always blossom in light of total disconnection, we aren’t distracted and we relish in the face-to-face, internet-free, TV-less relations. We disconnect technology and we reconnect with our liveliness; and in the process have one hell of a good time.
I am so tired of hearing, and for that matter saying, “I can’t live with out my phone.” Technology can be a mind-numbing drug. I know what it is like to jones for it too, we need it. Now hey, I am no naysayer. I think the power of technology is awesome. We rightly depend upon it for efficiency. It’s not feasible or practical for me or anyone else to completely abstain. But as the year comes to end, I am dedicated to establishing ability for disconnecting. I firmly believe that when we turn our phones off we have a newfound ability to reconnect with some important things in life. There is such a thing as being too connected and as I continually reaffirm in life, balance is important. When I am able to disconnect I have the ability to tame my mind and find new value in real human contact. I am going to insert “time off from technology” into my weekly schedule—and not just during my usual yoga practice. I don’t want to wake up with my iPhone in hand or my laptop tucked under the sheets --- and yes this happens.
There is a new film by Tiffany Shalin that is asking what it means to be connected in the 21st century? I am looking forward to seeing it and sadly I checked Facebook while playing this trailer: Connected The Film.
I would also check out this new witty picture book: Goodnight iPad by Ann Droyd.
