More person than robot
It’s really nice to just sit somewhere and do nothing. This is an incredibly hard practice to begin, but with time it can be a gift—a space to watch, think, dream, create. I do this on early morning tour drives when the girls are sleeping, and also sometimes at the park behind my house. Soccer players practice their soccer things and I just watch on the hill above, remembering I don’t have all that much to do. Right about then is when ideas for songs and books and shindigs start swimming around my head. These margins of time are where creativity begins.
Recently, I’ve been receiving acupuncture. A nice lady named Ali asks me where the pain is and then sticks tiny needles in my hands, feet, and head. After that, my only job is to stay still in a recliner for an hour. Not bad. I usually fall asleep for the first part and then wake up content to muse and not look at my watch for the second part. Not knowing the time is of the utmost importance when intentionally sitting somewhere and doing nothing! Time can be utterly oppressive when noticed too much.
During a recent acupuncture treatment, I was struck with how sitting still and life with a dumb phone feel very similar. Nothing much to check on, nothing to be pacified by, just a life to reckon with. I’ve gone back and forth, using an iPhone for some months and a flip phone for others, but true aliveness always feels more possible with simpler technology. So I left the acupuncture session and returned to my dumb phone.
Becoming more person than robot has always been important to me, but especially now that I get to be an example for Basil too. I want her to see there is more to life than watching little screens and fearing the quiet. I want her to feel that true aliveness and creativity are the default. That she can feel happy sitting with herself, imagining the world she’d like to live in. Without alarms and vibrations in her pocket, taking her away from the gift of boredom.
And it really is a gift. I’ve come to believe the less I can tolerate boredom, the more boring I become. Boredom allows margins of time for wonder to bloom, but technological inputs satisfy too quickly, dampening my God given right to… dillydally. And dillydallying is more important now than ever. Mega corporations are fighting for my time so I must do silly little tasks like planting a garden, fixing our apartment, or even using a dumb phone to retain quiet moments. My witness to Basil will be this: a dad who is not addicted to his phone, able to experience true aliveness. A dad who can be bored and still sit somewhere, doing nothing.
