"I miss my computer," I complained to Camilo the other day as we were heading to Palermo. At that point, I'd been a week without a computer charger to call my own: subsequently no music or movies, and a much lower dose of skype, email, and English than normal. In such technological isolation I'd been bemoaning the way my 50 texts a month slip out my sent files.
Camilo listened and nodded sagely. Philosophy majors are good at nodding sagely. After a pause:
"Welcome back to the real world, Jill. It's not as entertaining as the virtual one, but here it is." Before I could say something thoughtful in reply, he thumbed out his ipad. Lost in the irony, I didn't quite catch what he said next, but it sure sounded something like 'Matrix'.
That's been the paradox of my unintentional technology fast. Independently, it has been a good thing. After a few weeks my brain has been forced to be more creative; I have ridiculous amounts of free time without a computer or phone, so when I'm not listening to God or thinking (fancy that) in some way or another, I'm reading something obscure from the library, out for a walk, playing guitar, and thanking my February self that I thought to bring colored pencils with me. Sometimes I even have time to do extra chores- bless the heart of the monastic (ish) life. For the most part, it's been an illustration of what my Dad's and my favorite song affirms: 'if you find out you can live without and go along not thinking about it...the bare necessities of life will come to you!'
But then, when I crave human interaction (yes, even introverts need social time, especially when they don't have virtual connections), I find the rest of the world plugged in. My fellow runners at Centenario (ipods), my rooomate (laptop), my seminary family (cell/smart phones), even baby Liz (headphones).
And then there's me, rather alone in the real world. It's a pretty funny place sometimes.
Camilo listened and nodded sagely. Philosophy majors are good at nodding sagely. After a pause:
"Welcome back to the real world, Jill. It's not as entertaining as the virtual one, but here it is." Before I could say something thoughtful in reply, he thumbed out his ipad. Lost in the irony, I didn't quite catch what he said next, but it sure sounded something like 'Matrix'.
That's been the paradox of my unintentional technology fast. Independently, it has been a good thing. After a few weeks my brain has been forced to be more creative; I have ridiculous amounts of free time without a computer or phone, so when I'm not listening to God or thinking (fancy that) in some way or another, I'm reading something obscure from the library, out for a walk, playing guitar, and thanking my February self that I thought to bring colored pencils with me. Sometimes I even have time to do extra chores- bless the heart of the monastic (ish) life. For the most part, it's been an illustration of what my Dad's and my favorite song affirms: 'if you find out you can live without and go along not thinking about it...the bare necessities of life will come to you!'
But then, when I crave human interaction (yes, even introverts need social time, especially when they don't have virtual connections), I find the rest of the world plugged in. My fellow runners at Centenario (ipods), my rooomate (laptop), my seminary family (cell/smart phones), even baby Liz (headphones).
And then there's me, rather alone in the real world. It's a pretty funny place sometimes.
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