Telephone In The Other Room

I'm old.

There was going to be more to that thought, but it encapsulates and prefaces what's to follow, so I'll leave it at that.

I'm fifty-four and remember life before smartphones, cell phones, voicemail, and even answering machines. I know the sounds of a busy signal and the endless ringing when someone wasn't home to answer their phone.

I was old enough to drive before seeing my first cell phone in the wild. Old enough to drink before they were becoming even a little common. I was thirty when my wife and I bought one that we barely used. Five years later we each had one and disconnected our landline. For my fortieth birthday in 2008, I received an iPhone.

And all hell broke loose.

My attention fractured and my life increasingly revolves around the slab of glass and plastic usually in my pocket and almost always within reach.

My bet is that your phone is in your hand, pocket, or arm's reach as you read this. If not, leave a comment saying so.

This persistent proximity had me feeling old as I recalled a crucial fact from way back:

Telephones used to be in another room.

Our phone hung in the kitchen. My friend had a phone upstairs too, waiting on a telephone seat in the hallway. There were no phones in the living room, dining room, or den. And on vacations, we used payphone that were a walk or drive away.

Just before sitting in the living room to write this, I parked my phone in the kitchen. As I've been writing, I've thought of no fewer than three things to look up on my phone. Habits are strong, but I'm too lazy to go grab my phone.

Most nights, I leave the phone in the kitchen when I go to bed.

A few evenings ago, while my wife, daughters, and I "watched" a television show, I saw that each of us was staring at our phones. I put my phone in the kitchen and found enough attention to enjoy the show.

Telephones used to be in another room.

I know this makes me sound old, mostly because I am. I'm not suggesting what you should do, but I'm glad to try going back to having a phone that is out of reach. I can still hear if it rings or dings, but with it in another room I feel focused, peaceful, and maybe just a bit younger. Even though I'm old.

One Run Does Not An Enlightenment Make

You go for one slow run and get thinking you're God's own gift. You should write a blog post telling everyone to do as you've done. Get out there! You're enlightened from that one slow run.

Then you remember this is your first run in weeks. You feel your big belly and sore legs. Maybe you're not one to give advice.

You recall too what you've read about mediation. (Read about instead of actually doing meditation.) Fools run through the temple halls shouting about their enlightenment. Monks who have mediated more than half their lives hear the fool, accept him, and return to their breath.

This morning you watched two guys run past your house. They didn't look enlightened. They were just running. One foot and then another.

You had just finished the writing you do every morning. A practice about which you hold few expectations. Just one word and then another. You accept what it gives and try to be worthy of its gifts.

Your run today was just moving through this life. No enlightenment. No need to shout or blog. (Though here you are.) You were just running through the halls of this temple Earth, quietly, following your breath, trying to let go expectations and be present to the gifts your every step delivers.

Enlightenment, if you really need it, is probably both a lifetime of miles ahead and right here already.

Happiness

What makes you happy?

It's not an idle question. I've been thinking on it for days and come up with:

• family
• writing
• work
• coffee
• listening to music

On the flip side, what makes you unhappy?

Seems as important to think of things that make me unhappy and yet I keep doing them. Such as:

• social media
• overeating
• most TV
• staying up late
• waking up late

Where do you put your energy?

I know where to put mine, it's so simple, and yet I struggle.

How do you live a happy life? I really want to know.

Current and Against

Why should I be like a dog that runs after every bone she likes to throw?

—Jane Dobisz, One Hundred Days of Solitude

Wrote two of my three morning pages on paper that wouldn't take ink. My pen skipped and my frustration grew. Starting page three, it was the same, but I wadded the page and tested sheets until I found a good one.

Subbing in good paper for bad every difference though it was the simplest of actions.

It's the difference between beating my head against a wall versus finding a door, window, gate, or some way around, over, or under. Better to choose a new way than to beat myself senseless trying to break through.

Good choices, even the smallest, make big differences, so I:

• Leave the phone downstairs when going up to bed.

• Leave election results to morning and even then look just briefly. I voted and encouraged others to vote. There's nothing left to do and no good in obsessing.

• Deleted the Twitter account and have back hours, yes hours, I spent there daily.

• At work, close the email tab and check the inbox just twice a day.

None of these is complicated or seemingly important, but the effects may become profound.

In finding a good page I "lost" two bad pages. Last night I "lost" the chance to spend hours wondering how the election would turn out. I have "lost" hearing the noise of the Twitter crowd. I've "lost" the distractions of constant email.

Which is of course to say that I've lost nothing at all.

These choices ought to be obvious, but I get caught up in accepting the page before me, believing I must be always accessible and on top of the news, feeling that social media matters and email is the most important thing I do. I get caught up in following the crowd.

My best choices are usually made against the current of trends and the rushing crowd.

And so I remind myself again: Don't blindly accept. Thoughtfully consider my own choices. And when in doubt, turn against the current, turn toward joy.