Tag: internet

What A Day

Technologically challenged today.

I merely tried to reboot the internet.

This should not be hard in this day and age.

And it wasn’t hard. It was darn near impossible.

I recently read this New York Times article. https://www.nytimes.com/2024/01/06/technology/smartphone-addiction-flip-phone.html

A reporter decided to switch out her smartphone for a flip phone.

In this day and age, that is courage, my friends.

It is a burgeoning movement. Well, burgeoning may be a stretch.

But more and more people are trying to opt out and do a tech and smartphone detox.

The article below in Reader’s Digest magazine was published a couple of years ago.

Same theme as the NYT article. But an even stronger and an even more positive result.

So the irony of this is, I, of course, copied the link to paste it in this post. Not once, it seems but four times!!

I’m done for today.

The dead then slow internet connection left me to write this post late in the day.

I am sharing the burden of my tech frustration with ya’ll.

Which I realize isn’t really even fair.

I am sure you all have plenty of tech and smartphone related frustration stories of your own,

I Quit My Smartphone—And It Changed My Life
https://www.readersdigest.ca/health/healthy-living/i-quit-my-smartphone
I Quit My Smartphone—And It Changed My Life
I Quit My Smartphone—And It Changed My Life
I Quit My Smartphone—And It Changed My Life

300 Posts and Counting

My 300th post in a row today. Only 65 more to go to reach my goal of writing a daily blog post for a full year.

Starting out on March 14th of last year (2023 for any of you who are just shaking off the trauma of whatever last year was), I wondered what the year would bring when I started out. I wondered if my goal of writing a book would be enhanced by this discipline. I wondered what I would learn about life. I wondered what I would learn about myself.

I’ve learned a few things. Among them, I have valued the feedback and support of fellow travelers. People in my life who may have only known me superficially before have stuck with me. They’ve read my posts, liked them and made valuable comments. I am grateful for you Diane and Gary. And Katie, too.

I have connected with other blog authors who are doing their bit to share their voice and insights with the world. Eclectic and interesting.

I’ve gleaned a few faithful readers and commentators along the way. I’ve signed up for their blogs and have learned from and enjoyed their writing. Thank you, Frank and Tony and Patti and Mangus and Kris. I see you too, ThatScaredLittleGirl. If I’ve missed any other regulars, please forgive me.

In the past, I have both applauded and decried the onslaught of technology and the power it has over most of us today. I’m just waiting for the internet to crash one day to see what kind of blind panic that triggers across the world. I don’t really wish that to happen, but admit I find it a fascinating prospect to contemplate.

I have discovered the memoir I originally set out to write is not as compelling a goal for me as it once was. I believe I was driven by a need to be validated and to share my learnings and survival strategies from the challenges of my childhood. How I overcame those challenges might be of help to others facing the same situations, I believed.

Part of me still believes that. Yet my life has evolved from a “survivalist” mindset and into a place of stability and contentment. I don’t have the same fire in my belly as I once had to share the atrocities I suffered in my childhood with the world. My solutions of choice come out in my blog writing practice anyway.

My deep-seated beliefs in spirituality over religion, self-care, meditation, yoga, healthy eating all inform my daily writing. Love over hatred. Kindness and compassion as a starting point for any new connections with others. When others disappoint or hurt me, I simply withdraw. I now believe it is their loss as much as mine for what we might have co-created together.

Like a wise farmer, I need to choose where I sow my seeds and try to pick fertile and welcoming soil. I spent too many years not doing that and have the results (or lack thereof) to prove it. I quote the wisdom of the late Maya Angelou who said: “When people show you who they are, believe them … the first time.”

That is such an important and hard-won lesson. My late mother destroyed her life by ignoring this truth. When she met my father, he was a firmly established drunkard and womanizer with a hair trigger temper. My mother believed that her love would change him. If it were not so sad and the consequences so tragic, I would laugh at that presumption.

Her misguided belief underscores a fundamental learning we all eventually come to. We can’t change anyone. It is difficult enough to change ourselves. Any of you who have successfully quit drinking, smoking, overspending, procrastination or other self-sabotaging behaviors know that truth intimately.

I have learned the hard lesson that you cannot push a string. People are as they are as you meet them in the present moment. What you hope and dream they will become one day, may or may not happen. Deal with them in the present, not in the someday you imagine.

If the present person you encounter proves to be a bad fit with where you are in your evolution, the only solution may be to walk away. You may wish them love and healing.

You do not have to expose yourself to the threat of being pulled under or back into the undertow of their unsettled and unresolved issues. That’s their job, not yours.

That was a tough learning for me. We are all tightly sewed into fraught expectations around family and friend relationships. Abandoning them may be seen and felt as disinterest or cruelty.

In my life, I have made those choices as an action of self-care and, yes, an act of love. It is often only in solitude and isolation that people learn the lessons they need to learn in their life.

Like people we lose through death, they are not gone from us. They are simply elsewhere.

I have learned lots over these past 300 days. I have much more to learn. I will always have much more to learn. It is an immutable truth that the more we know, the less we know we know.

I’m closing in on the final leg of this one year marathon. At the moment, I have no idea whatsoever what I will do on the 366th day. Carry on with daily posts or change direction? I do know this for sure.

Writing is not just a vocation but an avocation. It is an exercise in exploring the depths of the soul and spirit as much as it is a tangible product that others can ingest and ponder. It has given structure to my days, even when some of those days were very rocky and unpredictable.

I am finding my voice. I know her better now. I feel there is still much more to learn. So we’ll see. As we used to say regularly in the news business, the outcome “remains to be seen.” At any rate, you can safely assume there will be one even if I don’t yet know what that will be.

Near Loss Experience

What is a wakeup call? When do we get them? And why?

Having nearly lost access to my blog recently, these thoughts came to mind. I was forced into a position where I had to reflect on how I would feel if a certain something (or someone) I cared about were to leave my life permanently.

In part, my spiritual beliefs have helped me understand loss better. We don’t really lose anything it turns out. People who are taken from us live on in us. No, it is nowhere near the same as sitting down with them for tea or hearing their voice.

But the voice and memories they left us live on inside us. When my Dad died, someone sent me this in a sympathy card: “Now he is no longer where he was. Now, he is always with you.” I can conjure up my Dad in my mind’s eye whenever I want to.

I think about how much time and energy we put into “protecting” our possessions. Insurance. Wall safes. Safety deposit boxes. Alarm systems on our doors and windows. Certainly all are valuable for our peace of mind (and to legally comply in some cases as it is with auto insurance.)

I am struck not only by how much I have lost in my life but what replaced it. The family of origin I lost was replaced by dear, lifelong friends. I’ve made a safe and stable home to replace the one I never had as a child. I replaced low self-esteem with consistently decent behavior that has built a solid sense of self-respect. The lost love of my childhood was eventually replaced by a solid and mature love relationship.

Are all of these replacements equivalent to what was? No they aren’t but it doesn’t matter. To start, human beings are infinitely adaptable. It is our collective superpower as a species. Those who let go of the past and accept and build on what is in front of them right now are survivors.

To feel joy in the present, we cannot constantly grieve for the past. Doing so is a form of emotional sickness. Of course, we have strange ideas about this sometimes. A widow fears sullying her late husband’s memory by dating again or falling in love.

Yet, we hear that in the healthiest relationships, spouses pray for a new beginning for their partner if they should pass. We are given the time we are given with someone or something. When it is over, it is time to let go and move on.

In your own time, of course. It is ludicrous to think that there is a deadline by which to stop grieving. Most people who have suffered the loss of loved ones never really do “recover” completely. That is part of loving.

Anniversaries, birthdays, holidays can all bring back memories. Instead of slipping into grief and depression, we could turn those feelings around and use those occasions to honor and celebrate what we once had with them. This can also be painful and may bring tears. But, of catharsis.

It is a reframing and acceptance of grief to recognize its’ inevitability in all of our lives. Go to the graveyard. Leave flowers. Or raise a glass of fine single scotch whiskey in their memory. Pour some on their grave (not too much, of course! Fine spirits should be savored by the living, after all.)

It all circles back to the need to live each moment in the present. I have been as guilty as the next person of running around doing a bunch of things instead of carving out time and settling in for a chat with a friend.

I have improved. There are phone calls I will not make unless I have a free hour to talk. I still write letters and send cards occasionally. We forget the impact of the literal written word in our high tech age.

Not only do I love sending cards, I love getting them. Someone has taken the time to pick out a card, write a note, find a stamp and put it in the mailbox. That’s a mighty loving gesture right there.

Access to my blog was finally restored after a day of minor panic and frustration. It was a wake-up call to secure my writing output somewhere that it might be safe and accessible even if the internet crashes one day. (Wouldn’t that be something? Life as we know it would come to a complete standstill.)

And even if it was lost, would it matter? Sadly not. Like my life, these musings are but a grain of sand in the grand scheme of things. They are only important to me because they are mine. If you find something in here that resonates, that pleases me. We are all – as my friend said to me just the other day – “walking each other home.”

That makes me exactly like all of you. We are all most interested and indeed, called upon to nurture and protect what is ours. While we can and while we still are able.

One day, we won’t be here to do that. If we are lucky, there will be a few folk out there who will carry us in their hearts until their lives come to an end just as we carried those who went before us.

In this way, we throw our two cents worth into the infinite and self-replenishing fountain of love and wisdom of the ages. For others to carry forward. In perpetuity.

Turning Tides

In The Atlantic, I recently read an article with the tragic title: Why The Past Ten Years of American Life Have Been Uniquely Stupid, and the even sadder sub-title: It’s not just a phase,” by writer Jonathan Haidt.

I read Haidt’s article with a curious mix of horror and hope. Let me explain.

We all know – or should – that we are living in unprecedented times. I hadn’t been sure when the “tipping point” occurred but by author Haidt’s calculation, it was around 2010.

It was during and after that year that social media evolved from being benign social sharing platforms into something immensely more insidious and hateful.

Added capacities on social media platforms such as “share” buttons and “retweeting” meant that any random ideas or comments – no matter how wrong, inflammatory or hysterical – could spread like wildfire.

Viral posts could elevate someone’s profile for a short time or destroy someone in the same timeframe, depending. This capacity for viral gang banging has been deadly on our society, our mental health and our level of trust in established institutions set up to guide and oversee our collective stability and well-being.

Once upon a time, the leaden processes of discourse and change drove me nuts. To achieve or change anything, there were protocols that deemed, and often doomed, positive change, especially if a quick response was required.

As most of my early work life was in academia and government, I would shudder when an issue needed to be submitted to and resolved “by committee.” Committees met infrequently. They were often populated by self-interested windbags more interested in the sound of their own voice than in speedy and positive resolution of anything.

My mind often moved more quickly tin those days to a “logical conclusion.” I saw committees as largely self-serving, pedantic entities that doomed many great ideas to the dustbin. Death by attrition.

At this time in history, decision-making power over important issues was concentrated in the hands of the elite few. That was the case in universities, government, sometimes churches, and definitely in financial institutions.

Enter the internet and social media. Global game changers. But not in a good way as it has turned out. There is a strict separation between the left and right. There is an erosion of trust at all levels and in all institutions. The problem will not go away or get better, Haidt points out, as AI informs and adds to the mountains of disinformation so readily available and consumed.

I now find my support for the internet’s possibilities much more conservative. I was excited to my very core when the internet emerged. I lauded its democratic promise. Now, I reasoned, anyone, anywhere, with a computer and wifi had access to all of the knowledge in the world. Wow.

Its ramifications for artists and innovative thinking were limitless, I reasoned. Authors rejected by traditional publishers for their whole careers could now find a corner of the internet where their writing could be read. Their manuscript could be published. It might be dreck but it was their very own dreck.

Free speech would arise in unison from all corners and classes, I reasoned. Free speech combined with easy access to information and facts would create a more democratic and just society. How naive was I?

Jonathan Haidt writes: “The story of Babel is the best metaphor I have found for what happened to America in the 2010s, and for the fractured country we now inhabit. Something went terribly wrong, very suddenly. We are disoriented, unable to speak the same language or recognize the same truth. We are cut off from one another and from the past.“

Haidt continues: “… Babel is not a story about tribalism; it’s a story about the fragmentation of everything. It’s about the shattering of all that had seemed solid, the scattering of people who had been a community.“

It is the conclusion of Haidt’s article that heartens me. He identifies pockets of sanity and resistance that are emerging. Hallelujah. Haidt alludes to something that has been on my mind for some time. It is “We the People” who must work ourselves out of this mess.

We collectively recognize the downward and unpleasant shift in angry and violent discourse because we are living it. Here is where we must recommit ourselves – as in so many instances – to self-salvation, if there is salvation to be had from technology’s less positive influences.

“In recent years, Americans have started hundreds of groups and organizations dedicated to building trust and friendship across the political divide, including BridgeUSA, Braver Angels (on whose board I serve), and many others listed at BridgeAlliance.us. We cannot expect Congress and the tech companies to save us. We must change ourselves and our communities.“

Excuse me while I head over these websites to see how I can do my part in bringing this runaway train back into line. You may hear more about this issue from me. It feels critical to sustaining our democratic institutions and processes.

Even more important to my personal hobby horse about elevation of the health and well-being of individuals, it feels critical to recapturing our collective sanity and peace of mind.

Disconnecting to Connect

It is mighty hard to escape the internet. For me anyway. I am a bona fide, non-apologetic, drank-the-Kool-Aid “interweb” junkie.

So when I am forced to forgo internet access, I get spleeny. Like someone has taken away my favorite toy.

I find compensation since I have to. Without electronic entertainment, I have to devise my own. Without the illusion of connection to “everywhere, everything, all at once,” some familiar old friends come into play.

Imagination for example. I sit in my living room devising scenarios about how to alter it, improve it, change it more to my liking, or, most aptly put, make it more like me and my taste.

Much as I experience when sitting down to write this daily blog, disconnection from external stimulants allows me the luxury of enjoying my own internal dictates. My own thoughts.

I love to read, for example. I am thrilled by the right books and happily transported to worlds other than my own, filled with characters facing challenges I never hope to encounter.

Reading deepens my compassion for the human condition without the messy and distracting emotional work involved in real-life people dramas. To that end, reading is also finite. People dramas – as we who are raised in less-than-ideal families know – can last indefinitely. Or they can repeat predictably and tiresomely for years.

In good books, the protagonists are forced to deal with whatever situation it is that they were flung into. What would be the point of the book otherwise? For those who well know the classic, if now formulaic, Hero’s Journey, there is an identifiable story throughline in these books.

The hero is born and separated by the fates from all that is familiar. S/he prepares for and meets challenges. S/he is close to being completely undone by the magnitude of the challenges but s/he perseveres. S/he emerges, in the end, changed and triumphant by the growth experiences s/he has had.

So the current challenge this “hero” (i.e. me, if we rightfully assume we are the heroes of our own journeys), is battling a dead internet. Fortunately, like other heroes, I am forced to draw upon previously untapped internal resources to rise to the occasion and surmount the problem.

I have prepared this blog in MS Word. I will soon head out looking for alternate internet sources: the library, Starbucks, or most reliably, McDonald’s. All the while riding the telephone and Xfinity gods for a quick and speedy resolution to this grievous inconvenience.

Which, if I’m honest, isn’t all that inconvenient. I am rather enjoying the disconnection and downtime away from the incessant demands of the internet, email, and plowing through unwanted sales pitches.

Maybe I won’t dog those nice people at Xfinity too fiercely, after all. Maybe this temporary disconnection is a blessing in disguise. Heading over to my reading chair to see what might suit me to fill in the deliciously disconnected mental space.