Tag: smartphone

I have a suggestion for God

I’m not trying to tell God how to do his job, but I do have a few pointers.  

Let me back up. Yesterday, I spent a full 20 hours without even touching my phone. This magnificent feat of self control came about because I lost my phone.  

It’s a long story, and it involves a tragically stupid string of bad choices on my part, but where it ended was me ripping open a bag of wet dirt and bits of broken glass, and not finding my phone in there, and then hoisting that up and ripping open a second bag of wet dirt and bits of broken glass that was under the first one, and there, buried in the dirt, was my phone. It still turned on, and I was glad to have it back. Mostly.  

I do need my phone. I really do. But I need it for far less than I actually use it, and it was a nice 20 hours without it. I didn’t read a single headline about the president. I didn’t get in any fights with strangers over things I don’t know much about. I didn’t scroll miserably past hundreds of ads for things I couldn’t afford. I didn’t watch any videos of morbidly obese people getting yelled at or of hoarders weeping over their dirty junk. And it was easy to say my prayers, because I didn’t have my phone making the case that it, and not God, deserved my attention first. 

Without my phone, I sat outside in the morning sun and slowly drank my coffee. I listened to the birds and tried to figure out who they were without the aid of an app. I went down to the stream and collected some pretty bits of porcelain that had washed up and lodged in the banks. I fed the ducks and collected their eggs; I washed my hands; I prepped dinner in peace. And then I went back outside and made one last-ditch effort to find my phone. And then I found it.  

This is a long way of telling you that I know very well, and have known all along, that I use my phone too much. I know what it’s doing to me (making me dumb and mean and boring and sad) and to my life (making it hard to get anything done). But it’s also doing enough good things, and desirable things, and habit-forming things, that it’s super, super hard to put it down.  

So yesterday, God yoinked it right out of my pocket and buried it in trash where it belongs, and then he left me to draw my own conclusions.  

This is a good start! But I think He could take this approach further, because I have a lot of other bad habits I could use some help getting ahead of. I think he may not realize how dumb I am and how devoted to ruining my life. He gives me too much credit, and believes I have free will, and that it would be more valuable for me to decide to build virtue, rather than being forced into it like a rabid raccoon into a cage.

I’m not telling God how to do His job. But I do have a few pointers.  . . . Read the rest of my latest for The Catholic Weekly. 

Image: Adam and Eve by Jacob Jordaens via Wikipedia Commons

Doing one thing at the same time

You might remember a song from the ’90s called “Lucky Night,” by Björk’s unserious pre-solo band, the Sugarcubes. It starts, “I’ve tried a lot, and most things excite me; but what tops it all is doing two things at a time.” Björk and Einar then take turns listing possible pairings that she describes as “charming.”

Einar just sing-songs pairs of nouns:

Life and death, Glass and water
Rock and roll, wash and dirty
Christ and Jesus, time and hours… 

But Björk describes activities. You think maybe she is going to say something sexy and transgressive, but actually it’s very normal activities that apparently thrill her: 

To drive a car and listen to music.
To read a book and ride a train…

Sugarcubes’ songs are not designed to be analyzed, so I won’t do that. But for some reason, this one stuck in my head, and I can’t help thinking about how it wouldn’t just be a trifling little song today; it would be nonsensical. I never do only one thing at a time. It is always something—plus a phone. 

To drive a car and be on your phone
To listen to music and be on your phone
To ride a train and be on your phone
To fall in love and be on your phone
To not sleep and and be on your phone
To watch TV and be on your phone
To cuddle and be on your phone

Or in Einar’s mode:

Watch and phone
God and phone
Hammer and phone
Babies and phone

It is not something I try to do so as to make one plus one equal three, as the song promises; it is just how it is. I have my phone with me in the bathroom, in the car, while I’m cooking, while I’m eating, while I’m cleaning, when I’m working, while I am allegedly sleeping. When I am at church, I do turn my phone’s ringer off, but I sure don’t leave it at home. I would never.

Obviously, my phone isn’t all bad. I use it to listen to music, to identify birds and flowers, to be in touch with my kids in an emergency, to chat with my friends and my husband, to find recipes and instructions and helpful advice, and to take photos and videos of wonderful things that other people enjoy seeing. But overall, “Life and Phone” has not been an improvement, to put it mildly.

My phone’s omnipresence sucks the life out of whatever else I am doing. It always drains something from the other thing, sometimes a little, sometimes a lot. It is like a needy infant that requires constant heightened attention, even when it is asleep; but unlike an infant, it never stops being hungry, and unlike an infant, it offers so very little compared to what it snatches away. 

That is what my phone does to me, a middle-aged mom from New England who is at least trying to be good and not waste my life. We don’t have to imagine what it does to foolish young men who are hungry for meaning, hungry for praise, hungry for clout, and who have their phones with them all the time, pouring poison into their faces morning, noon and night, sucking away their power to see humanity. We know what young men plus phones adds up to, more and more often. There is no non-dramatic way to put it: It tells them to kill, and to etch little phrases from memes on the bullet casings. Expect to see more of this.