The irony of posting about this topic on a blog is not lost on me. My medium of communication is so riddled with flaws and difficulties as to make commenting on it— by using it— a duplicitous way to claim any kind of merit here; I get that. But it’s what I have right now. And I am called to write.
It’s not a secret that I’ve battled mightily with trying to figure out a healthy perspective of using social media and technology. I’ve gotten on and off Facebook twice now. I use Instagram and Pinterest. I finally got a cell phone last year and admit to relying heavily on texting now. But I still am uneasy. While neither singing praises of SnapChat nor burying my head in Luddite sand, I have always been perplexed and fascinated by the conundrum of the internet and our place in using social media, ever since its inception. I guess this is because social media serves as a mystifying and brand new intersection of two of my favorite subjects: linguistics and humanity… (humanity in the broad sense of “What makes us fully human?” or “How do we achieve the deepest parts of who we were created to be?” )
I’ve always been fascinated by language, cultural differences in idioms, how authority is shaped in words, gender differences in speech, how writing changed thinking and on and on. My senior thesis in a collegiate “ethno-linguistics” class required students to study speech patterns in a particular setting. While my peers observed beauty salons, daycares and construction sites… I funeral-hopped around the county to see how rituals of death differed and what speech patterns taught us there. Catholics have an appreciation for the macabre, see.
Anyway, with the advent of texting and blogging and status updates, I’ve been fascinated in the ways we allow these mediums to shape our thoughts, and vice versa. As communication is a natural part of relationships, it’s also been fascinating (disturbing, surprising, disappointing, pick your adjective…) watching how the online world has shaped our humanity… and what it’s done to human freedom.
We are all prey to it; anyone who is being intellectually honest has to admit that the temptation is there to think “This would make a great status update” or you think of life’s moments in 140 characters for the tweet you want to send out. I don’t think it reflects on whether we are “good” or “bad” or “cool” or “independent” to admit this—the science of neural rewiring is beyond our conscious control. (Please read: The Shallows: What the Internet Is Doing to Our Brains.) I’ve noticed in my own life that I am much more distractible than I ever used to be and that real-life moments sometimes enter my brain through an internet filtered pathway: e.g. “Wow, this would make a great Instagram shot.” I don’t consciously read articles the way I used to, in a linear, intentional fashion, I scan them… processing key words or thoughts as needed. Only rarely, when something is really important or evocative do I slow down and process it properly.
What I want to accomplish with this post is very simple and very ordinary and very mundane. I have nothing new to say that hasn’t already been said on the topic… I just want to keep the topic alive. Even if it means regurgitating my thoughts and previous posts on this subject over and over every so often. Or even if it means that I’m jumping around here or not being perfectly coherent, writing off the cuff. Because the subject is important. Because humanity is at stake. Yes, I truly believe that. The art of conversation is dying. The world, despite being more global and connected than ever, is more isolated than ever. Hearts are bleeding for true, human interaction and it is increasingly rare to find… and when found, it’s usually interrupted with texts or FB updates. We are a slave to our compulsions. Oh, to be present… !
Anyway, the last thing I want to say is a challenge to people like myself who are aware of the problem and consciously try to moderate the problem. Often we tell ourselves that our computer usage is for good purposes: researching curriculum or getting ideas for events or creating booklists for our children or finding community where none exists in real life. I get that. None of these are inherently wrong; the internet is a beautiful, incredibly useful tool. But there is a danger that us good, well-intentioned people have especially to spend so much time planning for the good life, reading blogs about simple lifestyles, and contriving just the right lesson plan… that we miss out on actual living.
I don’t want my children growing up with memories of a mother who was constantly researching and planning how to be a good woman/mother/teacher… I want them to grow up with memories of a mother who was present… warts and imperfect planning and all. I want my heart to be a resting place for them and this is not possible if my heart is flung scattershot across forums, blogs, Twitter and Facebook.
I can not create peace on my own. I am too weak and too flighty and too irritable for that. But God has promised to protect the simple-hearted and I can certainly shed a whole lot of buzzing, screen lit baggage in order to cultivate a simple heart.
There is no magic answer or blog post you need to read on “how to live a purpose-filled life.” It’s just the simple, ordinary work of everyday. It’s carving out silence. It’s being present. It’s surrendering. It’s living with a commitment to prayer and deciding every single day, all over again, regardless of our feelings, to shed off our selves and lean fully on Him. That’s it. That’s what makes us human and what makes us truly free. I would like very much to live in a world with as many authentically free humans as possible. And that’s why I keep raising a flag against something that has the potential to utterly destroy our freedom.
*Sigh* Maybe it feels like yet another Ellie rant, maybe it is. Shouting into the wind of hyperlinks and click-bait. But here it is. An appeal to seek the “peace which the world can not give.” I promise you won’t find it here… or anywhere on a screen. It’s out there, right in the din of bickering children and beeping washing machines and knocks at the door. Time for me to cross myself, shut the laptop and live it…