Descriptions of breakfasts, upbeat sentiments about life, humorous anecdotes, upsetting news stories, simple updates on health or mood — these are all things I’ve noted in this morning’s survey of Facebook. And these are all the things we used to share with each other in person. Now, we have them all scrolled out before us like a buffet. We get to pick and choose which friends and which posts to focus on, which makes it really easy not to relate in any deep fashion with anyone. Perhaps I haven’t embraced FB, but still I go to it, almost every night, and scroll, scroll, scroll, hoping to be reeled in by something. I admit I often zoom past certain things. I know the look of reposted aphorisms and misquotations and I avoid them. I keep an eye out for original ideas, photographs, writing, and music, but there’s much to wade through. This can be frustrating. I feel like I’ve binged on junk food but am going to bed hungry.
What I really want, of course, is connection. But media does not give this to me. It gives me a platform, a tool, which is better than nothing. But in fact, I think FB can create distance between me and what I seek, by substituting a facsimile for the real thing I crave. And, it is causing me problems maintaining attention, which is essential for real connection. These deficits or difficulties are not necessarily inherent in the media, but are the result of its colliding with my brain. I am not wired for this kind of stimulation.
So, am I looking in the wrong place? Maybe I should pick up the phone! Remember that thing? I still have the kind with a long curly cord and rotary dial. It’s just another tool, but the sound quality is amazing! The difference between that and the delayed, echoey, scratchy quality of cell-phone calls is remarkable. That kind of quality will keep me on the line.
People don’t expect phone calls. They text, which is something I loathe. It often takes me more time to text that it would to call, so my mobile phone is turned off most of the time, and I don’t give out my number. I’m still a landline lover. But I only have one friend who calls regularly, every day or two —another dinosaur like me. If we’ve already spoken though, and the phone rings unexpectedly, I am inclined to ignore it. I don’t like to be interrupted. I am not good at being spontaneous. But yikes, I’m digging myself a nice rut!
It seems many of us enjoy the comfort of operating within the confines of Facebook, where we can exercise control, post and comment at our leisure, and choose when and how often we share responses. We can get away with assuming little response-ability for our posts. How people react is up to them. We can even badmouth total strangers and get away with it. However, I think enough people recognize the widespread damage that this can cause, and we are calling for change.
So why do I not pick up the phone more often? Why have I not developed closer relationships here in the town where I’ve lived for 9 years? Being widowed and getting PTSD changed everything, including my communication habits. As a newcomer I didn’t have a community I could turn to for comfort and help. I didn’t want to overburden the few folks I did know. Additionally, they didn’t necessarily know what I needed, because I myself didn’t really know; it changed from day to day. It took less energy just to try get along by myself and then pay professionals to do the rest. I’m talking practically and emotionally.
I don’t want to give the impression I’m friendless. In fact, I gradually made a good many pals through choir, a bereavement group, and a meditation group. I now have dozens of folks here whom I love (and like!) but still, very few I consider bosom buddies. It takes time to develop deeper relationships, and people don’t have time, myself included. I have commitments scheduled weeks, and sometimes months, ahead. But it has become clear to me that my busy-ness, although it has enabled me to get a lot done (I’ve really impressed myself by what I can do) doesn’t leave a lot of room for just BEING. And just being with friends.
I remember as a teen and young adult, just hanging out with friends, doing nothing but chatting, or perhaps playing cards or listening to music, and saying little. In retrospect, I can see how formative these experiences were. We were developing our tastes and discernment in music, allowing room for our imagination, and perhaps most importantly, cultivating trusted bonds between us. Would I consider hanging out a good investment of my time now? Probably not. I’d be restless. I’d be trying to think of smart things to say to fill the empty conversational space. I rarely even allow myself the discomfort of going out for coffee with a friend. Yeah, that’s right — it’s not a comfort to me. I think about the waste of money and time. The analytical part of my brain doesn’t see the value in it. But it should: emotionally, psychologically, spiritually, perhaps coffee dates are a much better investment than scrolling and bitching and feeling lonely.
It’s all too easy to stay home and be “comfortable”. In fact, I’ve gotten so comfortable here in this lovely city, in my beautiful home, that I’ve been longing to escape it again, and am contemplating moving away. There’s not enough going on, I feel trapped, and unrooted. I can list a myriad of reasons to flee. But am I seeking breadth as a substitute for depth? Why can’t I have both? Why move? Why not risk deepening my friendships here? Why not dig even deeper into the options that are at my fingertips here?
I speculate that having lost so many loved ones — my parents, dear friends, and my husband — I’ve been frightened from becoming too attached to any one person. Maybe on some subconscious level I worry that ultimately, I’ll be abandoned. And part of it may be that I compare everyone to my late husband, who was not perfect, but as close as they come (in my eyes, of course!). He had a way of making you feel like you were the only one in the room. He had infinite time for real face to face contact.
Another aspect of it is that I’m keenly aware that I can never find the unconditional love that spiritual connection gives me. I believe we all suffer from a kind of existential longing that arises when we’re born into these physical bodies. I do recall having that knowledge, if not in so many words, since I was very young. Since then I have come to discover that what a truly successful intimate partnership or marriage can do is give us the opportunity to channel love —unconditional and universal— toward ourselves. This is the most healing of all.
I wonder if, for all of us, social media connectivity is just a replacement for the unconditional love we all long for. It’s there day or night, and we can reach out and elicit responses that can mimic love. But how real is this?
I know that when I spend time away from the internet, it’s tough at first. I get jittery, and then begin to feel empty and lonely. But this is happens when I deprive myself of the substitute (AKA addiction). I have a plethora of other ways to occupy my time. But it’s even more uncomfortable to do nothing for a while, and just allow the feelings to express fully. Let’s hear it for sitting with discomfort! It can be a really good thing. And then, after some time, when I choose to engage with the real world, to read, or sing, or hike up the mountain, or cook, or stroll with a friend, time begins to stretch out, and I see and hear and feel more deeply into my environment, and every connection, whether with plant or animal or real human being, feels more rewarding than anything online.
I know these aren’t just my own thoughts. These aren’t new questions. But I challenge you all to make different choices on occasion. Shut off the computer. Pick up the phone and invite a friend out (to your own home, even!) for coffee. See how your investment pays off.
SEE with a WHY 