Facebook, twitter, IMs, texts, phone calls, blogs, blackberrys, iphones and the 24-hour news cycle make it very easy to keep up with everything happening. Often times, too much of everything. One can barely make dinner plans on facebook or enter the beginning of a relationship without 500 people finding out. For some odd reason, we're all okay with that.
I recently spent a weekend in a cabin in the mountains of West Virginia, disconnected. I didn't plan on it. If you had asked me prior if I wanted to go without my precious updates and notifications I likely would have laughed and shuddered concurrently.
smartphones, my preference is an iphone, have become security blankets for grown ups. we never have to feel awkward or alone in a group of new people, because we have socialization at our fingertips.
I was with a group of people I didn't know, with the exception of a precious few, and my worst nightmare (aside from skiing off the side of the mountain) happened. The internet wouldn't load. my facebook because a swod. I felt jittery, nervous. A part of me was missing. How could I function not knowing what was going on in the rest of the world?
The feeling lasted for about a day. I was like a smoker trying to quit. The habit I was quitting was all I could think about and at times to urge was too strong to fight. After repeatedly trying to access my internet at various points at the resort, I finally just accepted the fact that I was going to have to socialize with people in the same room as me. So 2004.
That lasted for about 48 pretty wonderful hours and then we made the trek down the valley. Upon returning to work I found out that unfortunately drastic spring floods had hit the region, claiming two victims. sporting events had happened, some guy at some school up north hit a last-second shot, or two, and I had no idea.
I missed so much, I thought... for about a minute. Then I said, no, I didn't miss anything. In fact, ignorance truly is bliss. I spent time rolling around with my baby on the floor instead of scrolling through the lives of people I never see. I commented in a conversation instead of commenting on a wall. I unplugged, disconnected, shut down, and yet I opened up, released and kept living.
Spring is here, and with it the perfect time to try to unplug. Here are some ideas: Go for a walk at the park, perhaps fly a kite. Place a jar of topics at the dinner table and have a discussion. Do a puzzle. Get the mitt out and play a game of catch. Make cookies for a neighbor.
Disconnect, and get connected.
