Friends, this post is longer than anticipated, but I hope you’ll stick in there with me. Maybe you wanna grab a cuppa something first. The other day, I wrote about my struggle with technology — how often it causes me to feel discontent, distracted and searching for approval somewhere out there. I’m gathering from conversations that I’m not the only one. Today, I continue on this theme by exploring a little more what technology keeps me from experiencing right here.
Her hand is a miracle.
Lately, when she tucks hers into mine, I slow to savor the warmth of her palm, those last dimples, her trust.
As we walked in the October sun yesterday, I closed my eyes so I could feel and remember this grasp.
______
I sit in the gym and watch her spin, jump, balance, bounce. She shines with what her body can do. Around me, rectangles glow, shining from the faces of mother and father spectators. I watch children’s eyes seek out the eyes of their people who are focused on something somewhere else. I ache.
In nearly the same moment, I wonder what I’m missing on my own glowing rectangle, what I could be swiping. I start to grab for it in my purse, then stop.
__________
I worry they won’t know how to look people in the eye, give full attention to a conversation, string words together in meaningful ways, listen.
I worry they’ll feel connected enough through social media and technology’s soothing and won’t seek out the warmth and meaning of real hard real life.
Recently, as Sici and I drove together, we talked about the struggle to keep technology in right perspective when there’s always somewhere else you can “go.” (She doesn’t have a phone and has limited screen time, but she’s thinking about these things. We talk about these things.)
“Do you wish Facebook had never been invented?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m thankful for the relationships I’ve made that way, for the opportunity it’s given me to share my words and reconnect with old friends. But a big part of me wishes it never was because it’s just another thing to fill the empty space inside.”
“But you don’t really FILL it,” she said.
Oh, the wisdom.
I wonder if this distraction within fingertips’ reach is part of the age old desire to fill the pain rather than feel the pain, to dump something more into emptiness, hoping it will stick. It seems that today’s forms of distraction simply make it harder for us to truly feel the empty in the first place.
________
About a month ago, I saw links to comedian Louis C.K.’s appearance on Conan O’Brien’s show posted all over Facebook. In the interview, Louis C.K. explained why he won’t give his kids cell phones. It’s too rough to print or play in its entirety here, but the truth of his perspective sticks with me.
He argued that cell phones in particular are toxic for kids because they inhibit the building of true empathy and prevent them from feeling what they feel.
He explained, “You need to build an ability to just be yourself and not be doing something. That’s what the phones are taking away, is the ability to just sit there. That’s being a person. Because underneath everything in your life there is that thing, that empty—forever empty.”
After Sici’s birth, nearly 12 years ago, I experienced a period of postpartum depression. All of my usual coping mechanisms failed me. I couldn’t white knuckle it, live it fast and hard to get it over with, couldn’t stay busy enough to feel needed, wanted or approved enough. I couldn’t escape it.
I felt my forever empty.
One afternoon, while my baby napped, I sat on the couch in the living room of our apartment. I thanked God for my little girl who brought joy and life and prayed that God would take the underlying sad, numb gray sorrow away so I could enjoy her more. In that moment, I felt what seemed contradictory: the invitation to feel the pain, be in it, sit with it for a while.
It will not destroy you, I heard.
Of course this is a much longer story. I ended up taking antidepressants and later received counseling, but during that baby nap, I began to experience what it was to feel without a fix, to experience God’s simple and profound presence with me right in the middle of my pain and loneliness. I felt what I wanted desperately to avoid, but I was not really alone.
My awareness of my limits, my overwhelm, my loneliness, my struggle for identity — yes, it hurt. But I was not destroyed.
__________
In that Conan appearance, Louis C.K. described driving and a moment when the deep sadness began to come upon him. He said his first instinct was to grab for his phone and “text ‘hi’ to 50 people.” And then a Springsteen song came on the radio, and the singer moaned long and sorrowfully, and C.K. gave himself permission to just be sad. He pulled over to the side of the road and sobbed.
This release of grief, he said, was followed by euphoric joy.
He explained it this way: “because we don’t want that first bit of sad, we push it away with a little phone [or other distractions]. You never feel completely sad or completely happy, you just feel kinda satisfied with your product, and then you die.”
As I’ve looked honestly at my right here, I see that my hand-held technology has the potential to dull the vivid right out of my everyday — the highs and the lows — if I do not keep it within right limits. I’m still trying to figure out what these are for me, but I recognize the ways my smart phone pulls me away from being here and staying here.
Although this is the place.
Where the song wails, where the sun warms, where the gymnast twirls, where her hand melts into mine.
__________
Linking with Emily and Jennifer.
This is Day 24 of Right Here. Throughout October, I’m joining with a community of bloggers (linking up with The Nester) — all of whom are writing each day of the month about a topic of their choosing. To find all posts in 31 Days of Right Here, click here, or see the listing below.
To continue receiving these daily words, subscribe to this blog on the sidebar at left, click here to Like Draw Near on Facebook or follow me on Twitter @AshleyMLarkin. I am immensely grateful to share the journey with you.
POSTS IN THE SERIES
An introduction: Welcome to 31 Days of Right Here
Day 1: For You, Too
Day 2: Fear’s Invitation
Day 3: My Portion
Day 4: Five Minute Friday – Write
Day 5: Rise and Shine
Day 6: My Joys Mount As Do the Birds
Day 7: A Mother’s Fierce Love
Day 8: When Life’s A Mad Rush – How To Slow Time
Day 9: The Fight For Right Here Told Through Two Tales of Epic Whining (Part I)
Day 10: The Fight For Right Here Told Through Two Tales of Epic Whining (Part II)
Day 11: Five Minute Friday: Ordinary
Day 12: When Right Here’s A Mess
Day 13: O God, We Thank You
Day 14: The Date That Almost Wasn’t
Day 15: One Thing That Makes Us Human
Day 16: That We Might See And Remember
Day 17: In Which I Hit A Wall
Day 18: Five Minute Friday: Laundry
Day 19: When You Can’t Hold All The Moments
Day 20: Let Me Walk In Beauty
Day 21: Tend This Seed
Day 22: Just One More Click Away
Day 23: A Reset
Day 24: What We Hold
Connecting through the power of stories written, spoken and lived
First, may I just say that this is so eloquently written. You are saying what so many feel but haven’t the words to express. We live in a time when this conversation is crucial to whether or not we will stay present in our lives or remain “forever empty.” Thank you for this thought-provoking and heart-tugging post.
Stay present or remain forever empty? What a great way you’ve summarized it here, Angel. Thank you.
Your writing on technology is finding a direct hit with me today Ashley.
It’s interesting, my big girls and I have been spending a lot of time discussing technology. The double edged sword of the it all. In homeschooling we read a current event piece about a video gaming rehab center in Seattle! That’s right rehab….as in addicts. We do a wonderful devotion together by Sarah Young called Jesus Calling (she now has an adult version, her kids book is wonderful, I usually get so much out of it myself) anyway, today’s was titled “wired in” it was all about Rest and technology, and that it sabotages true God-inspired rest. The zone out ability with those glowing little rectangles as you called it, is very much like an addictive drug I do believe. Those so called “soft” drugs…like sugar, wine, shopping and spending,reality TV! Not horrible in itself, but you can’t help but look around, or look at yourself, and see how we use it to yes, just as you said, fill that empty. It reminds me why we need The Holy Spirit so much in our lives. How much is too much?….internet, food, wine, tjmaxx splurges! Does in interfere with real relationships, affecting your health, keeping an authentic walk with Christ. His Spirit always nudges away or nudges us toward what Our Father desires for us for the best blessings in our life.
Thanks for the food for thought, as always.
Cheers
Such wisdom in your comments here, Leah. So interesting — the day you left this comment, I heard of both the video gaming rehab center (on NPR, was it?) and read that entry from Jesus Calling. In fact, right after you left this reply, my sister wrote me a message, asking if I’d read it yet. God was speaking to me hard.
Yes, technology does sabotage true God-inspired rest. Even watching TV, which I think will be relaxing doesn’t create a true feeling of REST. It’s enjoyable sometimes, and then there’s that zoning out feeling, which really isn’t the same as rest. I love the questions you’re asking about “how much is too much?” Isn’t that the struggle of us North Americans…to allow ourselves to feel the lack so we will press into the Life of the one who is our true fulfillment. Thank you for your thoughts today. Truly appreciative for your voice.
I’ve been rolling this around in my head for weeks- not just social media excess, but EXCESS in general. I’ve recently moved into the hood to strategically reach into a neighborhood by becoming a true neighbor. The tension that is driving me crazy right now is the distance between the utter poverty I see and the “wealth” that we appear to have. It’s really messing with me and I’m not sure what to do with it. So yes, I hear you and I understand what you’re saying and feeling and I wholeheartedly agree.
And some days, I wish I didn’t own a smart phone. =)
“The tension that is driving me crazy right now is the distance between the utter poverty I see and the ‘wealth’ that we appear to have. It’s really messing with me and I’m not sure what to do with it.” Ugh, there are no easy answers, are there?
Let me just say, I so appreciate yours and your family’s heart for the poor, the way you’re choosing to identify with lack and poverty in such a tangible, sacrificial way. I think I’ve seen you before in Flower Patch Farmgirl’s comments — she has such profound things to say about this.
Lori, I respect your willingness to live in the questions, to be honest about the disparity and to express the truth of your experience. And I am praying for you — that you would continue to experience God’s directing and presence.
You have the most beautiful gift in the universe right there in your hand, I am so happy that you see that and even close your eyes to make it stick in that indelible, un-erasable portion of memory reserved for those specific moments. I pray you will have that sweetnes with you for all times.
Creator has blessed you doubly for not simply seeing and appreciating what He has laid in front of you, but for reaching out with open arms to spread and share the gift with those around you-no matter the mechanism. It is afterall, in the heart where we are weighed, not the mind.
Amen.
Ashley, what you learned during your nap is one of the most reoccurring themes in my current journey. I get so very tired of this intense, never-ending pain but avoiding it (by distraction or whatever) doesn’t get rid of it and it simply comes around in another form anyway. The only way for me to travel this journey successfully is the allow myself time and space to FEEL the pain, as hard as that is. And remember that the Creator of the universe is the God of Comfort. He may not remove the pain but He sits there with me, offering me hope. What a beautiful way you have “verbalized” this truth. And what a good student of your Rabbi you are to learn that early.
Becky, to all you have written, I simply receive with gratitude and a sorrowful respect for all you’ve suffered and hope that this, too, would be my kind of faith. May you know this moment and the next and the next the One who abides with you, offering hope, as you say, in the midst of your unbearable pain. Comfort and grace to you, friend. Thank you so much for your words.
Such an important topic…thanks for your vulnerability in addressing it!
I love this Ashley…so well said! Thank you!
Ashley, I sit here in the morning darkness, searching for the way I can possibly express your brilliance. I simply can’t. There is such profound wisdom on this page.. Yet it may be the way that you have Woven it, so beautifully, that leaves me awed and blessedly quiet.