I've been noticing lately a heightened sense of the disconnection that is all around me (and in me). Everywhere I go, I see people, but they don't seem to see me or anyone else. Everyone seems to be plugged in and tuned out.
What strikes me about this is not my own sense of loneliness in a town where there are few people who recognize me - instead, it's the irony of everyone's intense desire and innate drive to CONNECT and to BE CONNECTED that is ultimately rendering them completely disconnected... to everything and everyone.
I mean, at the park, it is rare for me to see a parent who is interacting with their child or another parent, but is instead engrossed in a cell phone conversation. The other day, while stopped at a red light, I saw several people crossing the street. One person was listening intently to her iPod, another concentrating on a text message, and yet another reading a book with earphones on. No one spoke to anyone else, and didn't even seem to see them.
What I'm noticing about this cultural phenomenon, that I know I'm certainly not the first to observe, is that, through the same disconnect I see all around me, I am setting a strong pattern in my own life. I'm just as guilty as the people I see every day. I carry my cell phone everywhere I go and can read emails, text messages, and surf the internet whenever I want. And, I do. ALOT.
Think about this. Have you ever been at a coffee shop, waiting for a friend, perhaps, when you felt uncomfortable by being alone, so you dove into your cell phone to appear connected? I'm guilty of this - and what it is really saying to people around me is "back off, I'm not interested." I put up my invisible bubble.
The other day, I was standing in line at a grocery store and found myself watching the woman who was ahead of me and checking out. She was on her cell phone, having a conversation with someone, while the cashier was doing her job and bagging her items. I noticed how uncomfortable the cashier seemed because when she told the woman her total, she didn't even acknowledge her and just continued talking while she swiped her credit card. The cashier just looked down and tried to stay busy with her bagging, and the woman just kept talking. The scene made me uncomfortable, and I felt compelled to make eye contact with the cashier as if to say to her, "I see you and appreciate what you're doing." I was offended by this woman's rude behavior and was quick to judge.
Then, I realized, I'm guilty of similar offenses all day long. I ignore my husband because I'm busy texting a friend. I absentmindedly respond to my daughter when she's asking me a question because I'm busy working on the computer. I don't strike up a conversation with the mom standing next to me at the end of the school day as we wait for our children. I'm disconnected, yet long for just the opposite.
Recently, I read an article written by a man who was trying an experiment to stop multitasking. If he was in the shower, no radio. If he was having breakfast, no newspaper or tv. If he was writing, no checking emails. If he was playing with his son, no phone call interruptions, music in the background, or conversations with any other family members. He actually had to retrain himself by speaking aloud what it was he was doing so that his mind didn't wander onto another task or topic. It may sound a little over the top, but he was having to take drastic measures to unlearn so many habits he'd created. What he discovered was that it isn't true that the more we get done at once (multitask), the more productive we are. Instead, we get less done and do it less well. And, we overwhelm ourselves (stress!) and rob the people in our lives of our full attention and presence.
Multitasking is a socially acceptable way to keep yourself distracted and disconnected. And, for me, it has become an excuse to stay disconnected to avoid the emotional risk relationships can carry. So, it seems I've created an impossible situation - I'm lonely, but, when I really examine my behavior, I can see that I've worked quite hard to keep myself that way. How does that make sense?!?
Have you bought this popular lie, too? I have, and I need to return it for a full refund.
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