My phone was stolen two nights ago.
I wasn't angry.
It's just a phone.
It felt quite natural that someone might want my things.
Instead of speeding off an buying a new one immediately, I questioned my desires for new technology. I'm on the way to luddite-ness when it comes to technology, give me the thing that will do the most basic version of what needs to be done (phones should call people and send text messages and hold phone numbers–that's all, right?) but I still rely on them. I don't pick up texts the second they come in, and I certainly don't spend an evening virtually talking to others when in the presence of friends. But here I am, phoneless, anxious, and thinking of alternative solutions.
I'm getting a friends old phone for free.
No new phones will have to be made,
No packaging to dispose of,
No money to change hands.
I need it for my business and to contact people.
But I will not let it run me.
I will not continually check it to see if I've gotten a text when I'm alone.
(I will accept and settle in my aloneness)
(I will set aside time for it like I do for emails)
Disconnect to reconnect.
I'm a believer in our connection to nature being intrinsic to our humanity.
But nature is also ourselves.
Be with friends,
We're part of a cycle.
We're part of many cycles.
The last time my technology got stolen I was in Europe:
I almost wished I didn't have all that stuff.
And then it was gone.
And it was ok because it wasn't me throwing it away.
It was stolen.
And I wasn't really that upset.
What followed was the most life-changing experience I've ever had.
(but that's a different story)
And this time, again, I don't really care.
And I'm excited to think about the learning that is about to happen...