This Isn't A Call To Walden

My phone died.  The whole weekend without being stalked, followed, liked or texted. I didn’t wake up to my phone; didn’t check it before bed and went a whole night without beeps telling me someone cared.  My Saturday night was restfully quiet; I went Sunday morning without screen time.  This experience isn’t that unique.  I’ve had a Smartphone for a month.

This isn’t a call to Walden.  There is visual and visceral delight in seeing your life flash in Instagram.  How tremendous to be followed by people you’ve never met; and who cares why they’re following you?  Putting your family photos and activities out there is a sane safe thing to do.  Truly---I’m borderline addicted.  And Facebook is a great mix; pics of kids; prayer requests and political posts.  The knee-jerk is to respond to every half-baked post.  Wrestling with that; grace and light are good; inflammatory repartee---perhaps not.

I’m seeing my phone’s death dimly through this grid (call it a life app) I’m working through.  When all the information and data stream in unfiltered its overwhelming.  Adrenaline flows and stress mounts.  There is no peace.  Doing the things I enjoy (the things that make me come alive) restores my passion.  Life posted and pictures ‘liked’ in Instagram is positive.  Monitoring my walks on Strava ties me to technology while I’m walking up hills I’ve not seen; praying prayers I’ve prayed before.  Tying technology to my life is good.  Getting tied down by it isn’t.