Technology is great. It's what makes it possible for me to check (ranked in order of importance) the weather, my email, the latest news about Britney's shaved head, world affairs and US politics. Anyone who knows me knows that I'm an avid technologist. I'm nuts about it, to be honest. I recently slipped on some ice and very painfully blew out my knee fracturing my patella. I was frustrated and crabby because of my inherent lack of mobility but excited about the prospect of having an MRI.
Huh? Excited about being strapped to a gurney and drawn into a ridiculously huge magnet so images can be taken of my leg's insides by magnetic resonance? Something is clearly way off kilter here. Don't get me wrong, MRI's are really cool machines, but the fact that this excited me was troubling. As I lay perfectly still in the machine for forty minutes trying very, very hard not to budge my leg even a tiny fraction of an inch for fear of blurring the detailed image which would force another forty minute session it hit me: as impressive as MRI technology is, the experience was nevertheless lackluster. See, lately I've been feeling what can be best described as technology fatigue. Imagine eating chocolate cake with extra frosting for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Good, delicious at first, but tiresome after a while. My appetite for gadgets, the latest software and the best computer hardware is showing some early signs of waning. I wanted the technological nutritional equivalent of asparagus and broccoli, but regardless of what high tech toys I researched, daydreamed about and used day after day, I just couldn't seem to satisfy the craving. That's not to say I want to heave my computers, iPod and mobile phone out the window any time soon. No, it means I'm starting to realize that I want to connect to something that doesn't require a power outlet, rechargeable batteries or a built in WiFi antenna; something that existed way before I ever did.
Something that existed way before any of us did.
So, with these thoughts in mind I opened my mind to all possibilities. Saturday night Paula and I were deep in conversation while we lounged in the living room with one of my favorite programs playing in the background on TV -- "Sunrise Earth". As good as the conversation was, I was drawn to the crisp, high definition images on the screen. This week's one hour episode was video shot of the sunrise over Yosemite. Part of the show's appeal is the minimalist visual editing and superb sound reproduction. Most of us are accustomed to being assaulted within seconds of pressing the power button of our TV remotes by blaring ads, booming voices of announcers, and strobe-like graphics selling us everything from the latest toothpaste brand to sound bite politics to the truly unreal: reality TV. Sunrise Earth in contrast is far more simple -- the producers position a few video cameras in remote natural locations and press record (via satellite uplink a thousand miles away) while it's still dark, an hour before sunrise. They have sensitive pro-grade sound recording equipment set up to record the sounds of nature -- the distant roar of a waterfall, the morning songs of birds, the rustle of wind through leaves, the clicking and faint buzzing of insects. At the end of the hour, viewers get a sense of what it's like to wake up in Yosemite, watching the sun rise with no human beings around for miles and miles. Watching on a big screen in high definition, it was almost like being there.
Almost.
What occurred to me is that while I was drawn to the idea of being still and experiencing the awesome grandeur of nature minus the ubiquitous cell phone ring tone chirps, beeps, buzzes and other sounds that connect us electronically and wirelessly with the rest of our fellow human beings, I was nevertheless far from any semblance of true nature. I realized that I long, even yearn to be connected, if even for a few days, to nature and disconnected from all technology. For a guy who dedicated his little blog to the joys, pleasures and blissful wonder of technology, this was tantamount to blasphemy. It was also a genuine leap of faith just to think the thought.
After sleeping on this idea for a couple of days, I'm now seriously considering taking a true vacation when the weather is warmer. This vacation won't be my usual affair consisting of hotel rooms, night life, rental cars, swimming pools, or even the powdery sand of a public beach or sparkling deck of a state of the art cruise ship. No, instead, I want to disappear into nature. I want to see the sky the way it was a thousand years ago; scratch that -- a million years ago. I want to eat, drink, sleep and live for at least a few days away from everyone, and every thing that fills up my days.
Okay, okay. I can probably guess what you're thinking -- "Yea, right. No technology for a whole week? That'll last about two hours." Truth be told I will be leveraging the convenience of at least a few pieces of rudimentary technology, like a decent tent and sleeping bag, and maybe my hand held GPS unit in case I'm truly lost. I'm not a glutton for punishment, after all. But the spirit of my pilgrimage (which is, come to think of it, a far more fitting adjective than vacation) will be to connect with nature, to the Earth, which I hope will through some sort of natural metaphysical osmosis help me to connect to myself, if that makes any sense at all.
I don't know at this point when or where I'll end up, but I do know that it will happen, I can feel it. And when I return, I'm confident I'll be eager to fire up my cornucopia of technological wizardry and write all about it here on my blog.
8 comments:
interesting! curious ape draws near...vacationing man... strange creature of desire, wanting the natural outside of him, driving so far to find it, if he can, there are others in competition for that space we are losing by being so many...
take a quiet ride on the river of your heart. Sit and listen to the bird brain sing! And feel the ape shit stirring. And sense the roar of your thoughts where there are only closed ears. See the inside of your eyes projecting natural sunrises. Sit. Be. Become. Breathing is the only technique allowed!
Thank you! These words are inspirational.
You and I have a mutual friend that fully embraces what you are talking about. John ("Hair John" as he was known before UPS had his shorn) does exactly this on a regular basis. Every weekend he takes out the kayak, three times a year he leaves the country. But, like you said, not on a cruise or guided tour.
He took pictures at a recent trip to Baleze (spelling?). Not with a digital camera, mind you. Not even with an autowind. A fully manual Lyca (spelling????). He didn't go to a resort. We went into a small town, barely a village. He helped a man fix his roof (a roof you could repair without even getting on a ladder the home was so small). He played soccer with a group of kids. He shared a Pepsi with a man almost 100 years old and in near pefect health despite a total lack of any sort of healthcare system at all.
The pictures were astounding. He truly experienced his trip.
You know me. As you've grown into the technology guru, I've grown into the technology curmudgeon. I dislike it. I find that technology is often developed in order to accurately replace the experience of actually being there. Hi-def TV, as you noted, is the perfect example.
Technology is supposed to make us more connected, help us experience things with more reality, more vibrance.
But instead, as you've discovered, doesn't it just give us an excuse to avoid actual experiences through the fiction that they've been accurately reproduced for us? Yes, we commnunicate CONSTANTLY via email. But is it real communication?
I don't think it is. I've recently been reading a book about John Adams. One of the things I notice time and again is the number of letters he wrote, and the way in which they were written. I decided to start writing some letters myself. Not typing, not e-mailing. I grabbed a pen and paper and started writing.
The experience was enlightening. It took time. Time is technology's enemy. Wouldn't it be accurate to say that one of the main drivers of technology is the need to save time? Let's dispense with the thought that it actually does so (I say not), and ask ourselves if that's even a good goal.
In some things, yes. But even in our personal lives? Shouldn't things in our personal lives take longer? Isn't the effort involved part of the process? Do we really need to eliminate effort in everything we do?
Take your wife's music as a counter-example. There, technology doesn't really serve to save her time, to make things easier. Instead, it serves to drastically improve the quality of her art. It opens up options to allow her to express herself. It's like giving a painter 37 new colors of paint and a bucket full of different brushes. They don't make his job easier, just more fruitful.
So that's a positive use of technology.
But I think there are times, as you've noted here, where technology really doesn't improve our lives at all. I think there are times that we SHOULD do something in the slowest possible method, the least efficient method. Because it makes it mean more when we do. Doesn't everyone like to get a hand-written letter in the mail from time to time? Or has it been so long since you did that you can't remember it? Especially the older generations. How much would it mean for them to read a few pages of your actual handwriting? Not just because you've delivered the words and sentences to them, but because you've invested some time into the process. You've made them to feel as though they are worthy of a small sacrifice of your time.
Another note: This isn't the first time you've done this. Remember your honeymoon. I don't think this is so much an epiphany as it is an empty fuel tank. For the years since that amazing trip to the outback, you've replaced your experience of the world around with images of the world around you. You've endeavored to use technology to expand the scope of images available to you, to sharpen the reality of the images, to purify the sound of the images. But these replacements never fully replaced the actual experience.
It's like eating, as you've noted, but in another way. Technology helps us to eat more easily. It helps us to experience foods we would not be able to find locally. It makes those foods taste more real, more fresh. It makes the foods last longer, and even makes them more nutritious.
But every so often, you get a thought in the back of your mind. You want something truly fresh. Something that's never been in a bag, or seen the inside of a processing plant. You want REAL food. It's why Lisa and I began gardnening. There is nothing like walking out into your backyard and picking the food you will eat for dinner that night.
Technology can make a cucumber that is bigger, more round, of the perfect length and color. But it can't replace the realness of eating something you grew yourself. Just like it cannot replace the experience of watching the sun rise over a national park, or actually standing by a waterfall and listening to it while an eagle flies so close overhead that you think you could almost have touched it.
Technology can mimic. And most days, that mimic is enough. As technology improves, the time we can spend between each "real" experience perhaps can grow. But our tanks will always be creeping towards empty. Eventually we'll always need to fill them up with actuall experiences. Eventually our bodies will tire of manufactured foods and we'll need the real thing. Eventually e-mails will no longer suffice and we'll slow our lives down to pen a letter and visit in person.
Technology is a wonderful thing. But the occassional intentional lack of technology can be even more powerful.
Some very true words, Jim. One of the points you made was that technology doesn't necessarily reduce the amount of time spent on a project; instead, it increases the amount of work that can be done in the same amount of time. Of course, this is purely philosophical, as well as being in direct contradiction to what technology leaders have promised us since the early 1980's. Remember, at that time we were supposed to be floating around in hover-cars with robots at home to do our dishes and vacuum the floor. So too our dreams of less work and more leisure have dissolved before our weary eyes.
I've observed your distaste for new fangled technology for a long time now, and to be honest -- it used to baffle me. You were like a kid at Christmas who didn't want to play with any of the new toys, but instead preferred to play with your old wooden tractor, leaving the remote control race car lying in a pile of recently removed wrapping paper. But now, I too am finding myself gravitating back to that metaphorical wooden tractor...or more accurately, gravitating towards the wood of a living tree before it ever became a tractor.
I will never fully abandon technology, obviously. None of us in modern society will. But maybe, just maybe I will find myself taking a step or two back and regarding the tools at my disposal and remind myself that they are just that -- tools, nothing more. There's no need to use a high powered professional nail gun and sonar stud finders to hang an 8x10 picture on my wall. Those tools can be used, but why? Same goes for other kinds of high technology. I don't need the highest powered computer or latest HD gadget to be satisfied or find true meaning in the human condition. Our ancestors have, for tens of thousands of years lived without gadgets and HD TV. Obviously, there's more to life than that.
However...
...let's not go overboard and reject ALL forms of technology development. There was that guy 100,000 years ago that first rubbed two sticks together to make a fire at will.
Allow me to note my own self-contradictory nature: I am posting about my disdain for technology on a blog. Ironic.
That said, I think that I could sum up my take on technology in this simple phrase: I demand results from technology. I won't buy into it until I seen a tangible improvement in my life. What I can't stand is technology for the sake of technology.
Thanks for this great article. And enjoy your retreat. Now I'm off to finish dictating a letter and I have some hand-calculations to perform for a tax client.
Old school rules....
I'm so excited for you to reconnect with nature, my dear husband. We all need time for ourselves. I have seen you get so wrapped up in your computer lately, so I sense the two of you definitely need some time apart.
Hey... that's Half Dome, I've been there!! I have to say that when I started reading about your desire to really leave technology for a "vacation" I was more than a little doubtful that it would be what you really want...but, then I was reading, and you stated that one of your favorite programs was Sunrise Earth... huh?... re-read; yep, that's what you said. Oh-kay... yes, maybe you DO need a vacation. (We have HD, I've seen the show...) hmmm, I'm guessing you probably didn't do much camping as a boy. Enjoy your time away! ;)
wait a minute...Britney shaved her head?
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