Disconnected

This cartoon was published 4/9/2009 by David Horsey of the Seattle Post-Intelligencer.


And it brings up a point that I know disturbs our very own Medieval Man, Lucius.

Today we live in a society that is ever more connected to one another. There is hardly anywhere left in the country, and ever fewer places in the world, where one cannot receive cell calls, texts, emails, etc at the touch of a button. We are connected to those around us twenty-four hours a day - and at younger ages all the time. Elementary school children rush home to text the friends they just spent eight hours in school with. Teenagers keep their clique up to date with the horribly out-of-touch faux pas of their parents, who was wearing what at the movies, and who just suffered a humiliatingly public break up. Adults email traffic updates, dinner requests, and 'urgent' work matters from their blackberries.

But are we really communicating? Or in this time of interconnectedness are we all operating on a purely superficial level? Is being available to others at all hours of the day and night actually limiting us to the superficial as we make a last ditch effort at preserving some measure of personal space and privacy? Are we insulating our true selves? Is all this constant, high-speed connection actually leaving us disconnected?

Now, don't get me wrong - I have a cell phone. In fact, as of this week I have an internationally capable cell phone. I'm going abroad and my father insists I need to be able to call the embassy if, God forbid, something go terribly wrong. Additionally, there are certain people I communicate with almost exclusively through text messages, though at their insistance, not mine. And my job requires I check my email at least three times a day. But I don't like talking on the phone and email can't quite convey the emotion I would like to invest in my words.

I am reminded of a verse from one of my mom's favorite camp songs:

"Come with me where the fire burns bright,
We can see even better in a candle's light.
We can learn more in a campfire's glow
Than we've ever learned in a year or so."

I have to agree. The women I used to camp with, spent many summers in 'primitive' conditions with are some of my very best friends in the world. They are women that know the deepest fears and triumphs of my heart. They are women I can call in the middle of the night and know that they will be there to listen, offer counsel, or drive all night to be with me - and they know the reverse is also true. I don't have this kind of relationship with many people beyond this group.

The technology that makes it so easy to stay in touch - texting, facebook, twitter - also serves to keep us at arms length. Perhaps it is the fear of putting too much of ourselves out there on public display. Perhaps it lulls us into thinking we do have the type of deep meaningful relationships we all crave. Perhaps I'm way off base.

Fear not - I am not decrying technology as evil, or as having ruined human interaction. I work in video conferenceing and course capture. And I use the internet in order to stay in touch with my closest friends. If not for the internet I wouldn't have met the co-authors of this blog, which would have been a shame because they are pretty cool people. But I also hand write letters, send tangible birthday cards, and make an effort to see my closest friends in person at least once a year.

But I long to disconnect - to unplug, pull a blanket near to the fire and catch up with those dearest to my heart and those I would also welcome in.