I have this pattern of disappearing and reappearing. You get emails from me, blog posts, a few events/products, and then I’m gone again.
Is it my generation (growing up with kerosene lamps and candles, running cold water (no hot) instead of computers, cell phones and instant information access anytime anywhere)?
Or is it a function of personality (self-sufficient, creative, independent, happy to be with myself as I think my thoughts or create my creations)?
Or just good ole happenstance?
In July my cell phone fell off the windshield of my car. (…you might ask: what the hell was it doing on the windshield of my car?) And in our current age of personal transparency (never mind the consequences), you might expect I would tell you.
I’m not. Because that’s a different story and not the point.
The point -> no cell phone!
No text messages. (OMG-who was asking me what? Needed me to do what, be where, know how?)
Frustrated family and friends (who desperately want to reach me as I push a supermarket cart down the aisle))
No calendar. (What kind of professional life do you have without a calendar?)
No email on the fly. (Had the Earth gone flat? Was someone important about to fall off the edge?)
No news feed. (Was our democracy still intact? Had the economic and political divides finally toppled our imperfect, precious American Experiment?)
This moment felt punch drunk with: No. No. No. No. No…
Until yes flashed behind no billboard.
Yes, the silence was thrilling.
Yes, a different sense of ease settled in my bones. (I could push a supermarket cart down the aisle. Just that, nothing more.)
I could drive with music on (and luxuriate in sound). Yes.
I could walk into my house and welcome its heartbeat. (Thank you, I’m home, yes.)
Yes. I could breathe.
Yes. I could think about what I wanted to do next. Just me.
My thoughts stretched out like undulating yes-ribbons of blue sky.
My back softened, just a bit. Just enough to feel sane.
And then, as if the entire Universe was collaborating on this existential yes, my decade-old computer became feverish and went dark. A screen of the most potent black signally an abundance of possibilities.
And, I was (digitally) gone again.
Your Truth. Your Power. Your Word. Claim it!
P.S. I’m back.
P.S.S. Have you ever completely unplugged, either willingly or unwillingly? If yes, what illuminating flash lit up the horizon of your experience?
Tell me about it in the comments below!
Next Up: PART II,
where I reflect on the open space of my digital desert before having an illuminating flash that entirely missed the kidney meridians.
