The Nudge to 1986
Lent and late winter musings
Musings. What a funny word to attach to the title of this post, from the Latin family mussitatio. From Webster’s 1828 dictionary: “The word then primarily denotes what we call humming, to hum, as persons do when idle, or alone and steadily occupied.” It also reflects pondering, thinking closely, studying in silence, meditating upon God (Ps 143:5), wonderment, and ‘to be so occupied in study or contemplation, as not to observe passing scenes or things present.’”
I am starved of musings. I hardly know what it means anymore.
I recognize this is my own fault. For as long as I’ve recognized and lamented the problem, I still find myself rolling up the tobacco of distraction and smoking its pseudocalm. Case in point: everything I read online right now is a complete skim. I find myself merely skating over words, barely recognizing they are in my native language, and racing to find what might be the three main points and to get onto the next skim. I hate reading this way. I’ve forgotten how to ponder (muse!), embrace boredom even, and as a result, my spirit is malnourished and exhausted. Case in point number two: even though my smartphone is glitching, I still sacrifice hours a day of my mind to it, dumbfounded on how that happens.
I’m know I’m not alone in this; I’ve skimmed the books and essays and memes and scientific studies and commentaries. Most of the adults in my household have their own screens and use them regularly, though I cannot know if this is a point of pain as it is for me. Once, I was so fed up by the lack of time we spent together away from screens I actually took a pair of scissors and cut the router line.
It looked like a wake up call. It felt like a declaration of war. But it was really only a few mostly quiet days of waiting for the UPS to deliver a new router.
Rarely will I experience what my husband calls a “Everyone out of the pool!” moment. That is a time when cliches abound: the rubber hits the road, the rock bottom is hit, the world feels like it’s coming to an end. Snipping the router wire was a pivotal point for me. What is wrong with me?!
I felt this when the nine of us (almost becoming ten) moved from the newly built Big House with a large mortgage and four bathrooms and five acres to the tiny cabin with a small rent and one bathroom and a property that regularly flooded enough to allow the ducks to contentedly quack past the back door. It was a time of, “Wait…what are we doing? Why are we doing it? What are we as a family supposed to be about, anyway?” It was during this time that I wrote PRESENT and reconsidered just about everything in my life. Ten years later, I carry far more empathy for anyone struggling with addiction to anything whatsoever. Doing that is more challenging in a time where an addictive product is flat out required for navigating in community and in culture.
I do not know why shrinking my material goods makes me feel better, but it always does. I love the heft of the car when it is full of bags for charity. I finally got around to decluttering some of my childhood memorabilia, and pulled out the extra large plastic tote bin. I threw away all of my middle and high school yearbooks years ago, and haven’t missed them at all, except now I know I could monetize them by sharing them on YouTube (Vintage 1980’s yearbooks! See how teens lived **before the internet**!!).
In the bin were wedding keepsakes such as the wedding planner itself. Granted, it’s interesting to remember how much we paid for the various elements (I’d tell you, except it’s thrown out now), but in the almost thirty-three years of our marriage, that kind of information hasn’t really been needed. I found my high school red varsity volleyball jersey, my middle school’s mascot tee shirt, and the Hard Rock Cafe London sweatshirt I practically lived in. My 12yo promptly rescued the sweatshirt; it’s still in incredible shape and so soft. Oh, for the return of quality clothing!
I went through many old photographs, and found half a dozen of our dating years, including an 8x10 of us on the beach from over thirty years ago. I framed that one and put it up in the bathroom where we could see it every day.
I’m almost fifty-five years old now. Time vanishes like a fleeting shadow (James 4:14).
On one dark and rainy day, I announced an adventure. We took the children (all of them, including the adults still at home) to see if we could visit all nine of our county’s libraries on one day. Granted, multiple screens were still in the vehicle, but at least we were all physically together.
Our bags were bursting after five of the nine libraries, and rather than burnout on our merry undertaking, we headed home to plow through dozens and dozens of books. My choices were family oriented (“simple ways to fill your family’s life with art and creativity!”), and one of them was a cookbook that I found inspirational in its melding of story with the plainest of meals.
The next morning, I made a modest breakfast, an egg skillet with cooked beets and greens, and a little avocado. The simplicity was satisfying. I thought about how grocery stores have become like the internet and how we shop and feed ourselves: unlimited numbers of choices, the majority of it dead and deadening.
I wonder how many of my readers are skimmers. Are we all skimmers now?
I wonder if it matters.
Wondering if it matters seems important.
This is the scattering of my mind, even as I write.
It’s Fake Spring now in the Pacific Northwest, that time of warming temperatures and birdsong tempting gardeners everywhere to pack away their thick coats and take futile chances with their precious seeds. I take the dog outside for her morning run, and notice a multitude of blooming snowdrops. I’m grateful for the notice, even it does mean I immediately take out my phone to take a photograph. If the snowdrops are blooming, spring and Resurrection Sunday are not far behind…which means Lent is upon us…which means the question arises that always hounds me this time of year: what if…
What if I fasted for the entirely of Lent?
Yeah, and what if I inherit a million dollars?
Still, I sit with the question and wonder what it would really look like if I stopped complaining about my distractions and actually did something about them? What if I actually went back to my previous-no computer-no internet-no smartphone-no social media-no texting self?
The thought of it makes me feel sick.
Later, I scroll Substack Notes and find this:
I don’t know what made me bite: the “unconformed” in the name, the “human default” in the title, or the beautiful painting at the top of the post, but bite I did. The first thing that got my attention (a good shake, really) was the fact I could print out the article instead of reading it online. SOMEONE UNDERSTANDS.
Of course I didn’t print it out, and of course I skimmed the article. Halfway through though, something finally fired in my brain (everyone out of the pool…) and I stopped, backed allllll the way up, and reread very, very, slowly. Granted, nothing was shiny and brand new. I’ve tried many, many ways to “manage” the uncomfortable monkey on my back. Alas, those tools don’t work for me. I’m like a K9 drug detector and can sniff out any opportunity to “just add another 15 minutes”.
This Lent will be different. The rest of this year will be different.
Portugal the Man is a band with a very popular hit on the radio, and I borrow from one of their lines as a fun way to think about my Lenten choices: “kickin’ like it’s 1986”. Here are some of the ideas I’ve been (ahem) kickin’ to make meaningful change.
📝 In 1986, I was sixteen, and I loved words. After school, I wrote and wrote and wrote. I ended up with many spiral bound notebooks full of poetry and songs that I rarely shared with anyone outside of my grandmother and an encouraging GI who I worked for during the summers (he was a tough New Yorker who once bought me a hefty book of poems and told me he’d beat the s-t out of me if I didn’t keep writing). I didn’t have an actual computer until after college, so everything was written longhand. In all the years since then, I can’t say having a computer made me a better—or a more prolific—writer at all. Cue Wendell Berry’s Why I Am Not Going to Buy a Computer. Now, granted, I do not have a spouse who will edit and type up all of my writing (nor a home life that would allow for hours upon hours of quiet), but given the sheer volume of publications Mr. Berry has, I cannot argue that using a computer is the only means of writing thoughtfully or abundantly.
This Lent, I am going to write more in my notebooks. I have them, of course. It will be a good experiment: will I write more/better if I go back to using my pencil first? What if I wrote my rough drafts for Substack in my notebook, first? (Makes note to order some more wooden pencils)
☎️ I also did not have a phone, nor the internet, and I truly thank God for that mercy. Our family had a landline, and the only way I spent time on that rotary was in conversation with a single person, perhaps once or twice a day. I rarely use my phone now to converse with anyone, but rather to manage messaging to many people within many different groups. One day recently, I had 48 notifications of messages on my phone before supper! This did not make me feel popular; it made me feel behind, which added to my perpetual sense of hurry and rush.
This Lent, I am setting aside my smartphone as much as possible, except for when needed for boarding passes or two-way authentication. I wasn’t ready to bury my mobile phone (or accessibility) completely, so I invested in a Light Phone. Until it shows up, I’ll keep my smartphone put away as much as possible.
⌚In 1986, I looked at my wrist watch when I wanted to know the time. And interestingly enough, I never really did need to know what the weather was going to do ahead of time. My plan is to wear a watch, though perhaps at some point I won’t even need that. Oh, and to go outside and look up for the weather report. May I’ll even learn how to read nature more.
📚 Speaking of reading, I read a lot of books when I was younger. I do still read, and I continue to prefer actual paper in my hands over eReaders and audiobooks. But I definitely want to read more and think I can as my time outside of scrolling expands. This past winter, I enjoyed choosing a small stack of books to read, and will do the same for spring.
🎶 In 1986, I listened to live music, the radio, or to actual physical copies of albums that I owned (and no one could delete!). In the last year, I’ve slowly begun a library of vinyl records and will continue to build that. I can listen to the radio in the car…or only to the wind blowing through the open window. This Lent, I want to make an effort to go listen to live music of some kind at least once.
🖌️ One project I’ll be working on is an art journal dedicated for this time during Lent. I have the substrate pages ready and will bind them into a book. I’m hoping this will be a better landing place for my boredom and/or escapism than hopping from app to app. This thought came about from a YouTube video I watched, in which I paid attention to the cues that made me reach for my smartphone. I needed to ask myself the question, “When those cues arise, and they will, what is my plan?”
📷 I bought myself a small camera, as I do like to take photos with my phone (aren’t those snowdrops pretty?).
❤️ This Lent, I’m committing to make time for my friends outside of texting. A couple of weeks ago, a friend and I sat for a couple of hours doing handwork together on a lazy Sunday afternoon. I need more of that. I have a handful of lovely ladies that I snail mail with, and I want to at least make arrangements to travel and see family this year.
Other ideas I’ve added to my “would be nice list” are to finish putting my office together, play some board and card games, and make sure I continue to go outside every day.
It sure seems like a long list, but they are each actually rather simple and slow. I am absolutely convinced that slowing down is the right thing for me to do during this time in my life, and that in doing so I may have a more thoughtful lifestyle that lends itself to musing more on what (and Who) life is truly all about. I’m grateful for this season of Lent to give me the gentle nudge to consider my ways and to make alternative arrangements to combat my weaknesses and subsequent grumbling about them.
Will you be doing likewise?
I like the idea! Maybe I can do something similar. My tendency to scroll is when I’m bored or tired. I’d like to replace that with reading, and I think I’m more likely to do that with a good fiction book. I’d also like to cut way back on my Goole usage, only using it when more necessary, like for a particular recipe AFTER I check my existing cookbooks to see if they have one. And I want to put the phone down more when around other people. ❤️