It’s strange, isn’t it? To be here but not really be here?
We used to think we couldn’t be in two places at once, but through our devices, now it seems we can be. So often, we are physically in one place while mentally in another.
For those of us who grew up without the internet or smartphones, we see the change. And it’s a little disturbing at times. We don’t really notice each other anymore. Not in the way we used to. Granted, technology has made hundreds of tasks easier and opened the door for previously unimagined opportunities. It’s amazing! But our tech obsession is also taking away some things we may not have expected we’d ever lose.
Like our dependence on our elders to teach us about the ways of life. To pass along wisdom and share their stories and lessons.
Like our ability to deeply focus on one task at a time, to get lost in it for hours on end with no distractions.
If we were driving across the country, we used to stop at gas stations to ask for directions. And we used to talk to each other in doctor’s offices and checkout lines to pass the time while we waited.
Some things have been lost. But we’ve gained a lot too.
Now we never have to feel too far away from a loved one, even if they’re on the other side of the planet–thanks to our ability to connect through video calls.
If we’re sick and unable to leave the house, now we can meet with a doctor online and have a prescription filled while lying comfortably on our sofa.
We can complete a work task without missing the family vacation.
We can know if our house is secure, even if we’re 2,000 miles away. How awesome is that!
We’re wired as humans to seek the path of least resistance. Sometimes, that looks like spending too much time on our phones instead of walking through the park. It can mean connecting with someone we’re on good terms with through social media to avoid dealing with the person in the next room. A lot of the time, it leads to posting and comparing and commenting on carefully curated profiles so our online self looks put together, while our actual self stagnates. Sometimes.
What if we only ever used tech in support of our own growth and well-being? Is that even possible? Has anyone succeeded in perfecting that? Not me!
But we can intend toward that ideal if we know what it is we really seek; who it is we really want to be. Once we’re clear about those two things and have the conviction to realize that vision at all costs, our screens are less likely to deter us.
For all the good they do and all the ways tech serves us, if we’re blind to the two-faced nature of our devices, it can exact a heavy toll on us in the long run.
What can be done to live in harmony with tech while not letting it rob us of the life we’re designed to live?
The answer, I believe, lies in the tree in the backyard and in the house next door.
Sitting under a tree, climbing a tree, planting a tree, walking among the trees along a forest path–all of these interactions can connect us with our wise and ancient Mother Earth. Grounding us to her beauty. To her steady stillness and her wild wonder. Maybe by doing so, we’ll see how neglected she has become. Maybe we’ll start to want a relationship with her and care less about our self-serving screens. In exchange, there’s a good chance she’ll help us to heal. To awaken to the secrets she has to tell. We need her influence now, perhaps more than ever.
In the houses right next door live real people with real lives, just like you. They have challenges, interests, concerns, successes and setbacks. They also live in the same self-serving world you do. They too may tend to feel invisible and unseen. They might wonder if anyone really knows what they’re going through.
What if we were to remember what it’s like to be a good neighbor? What if we were to reclaim the benefits of reaching out to those on our street such that there’s a little more trust between us? A little more watching out for each other? A little more random knocks on the door just to see how they’re really doing? What difference could that make to our quality of life? Wouldn’t it make all the difference during a power outage or natural disaster? Wouldn’t that provide a kind of built-in, free-for-the-taking sense of security? The kind that brings peace of mind. The kind that obliterates that sense of isolation and meaninglessness. Being a good neighbor pays dividends.
Get to know that tree out back. Wave next time and maybe say hi as you pass the elderly man living next door. This is how we act in silent defiance of all we want to secure for ourselves as humans. Because there are some things tech will never be able to replace.
