There are some things that change your life so much that once you've gotten used to them, it's hard to remember what your life was like before them. The iPod. Tivo. The blackberry - or as it has been known in my house since the very beginning - the "crackberry." Yes, it's true. My name is Suzanne and I'm an addict. I'm addicted to my crackberry. I carry it with me everywhere and I have it in my hand more hours of the day (and night) than I'd like to admit.
Sometimes, in the depth of my addiction, I engage in shameful behavior. I check it when I'm on a phone call and I really should be listening to the person on the other end of the line. I sneak a peek in the movie theater, during my kid's school play; anywhere I can get my fix. I reach for it, almost unconsciously, as if it were calling out to me.
Once a year, I go horseback riding with my family in Montana. The charming ranch we visit has no cell service. Yes, that's right, a whole week of no phones, no bb emails, no texting. The place also has no TV's but that's of much greater concern to my kids than to me. The first couple of days are always an adjustment. I find myself reaching for the bb like a gunslinger with no weapon in his holster. Coming up empty-handed. I have even been known to hike up to the top of the mountain, a feat that would normally be beyond my physical fitness capabilities, just to find a tiny patch of service at the top.
But Montana is a conscious plan to go off the grid. This week I had a terrible, unexpected, life altering thing happen, when I fell off the grid.
I was leaving for Las Vegas - a quick trip, but out of town nonetheless. Out of town and away from the safety and support of my many electronic devices that keep me connected to the world. My bb simply gave out. Died. Would not load messages. Could not make calls. Some kind of lethal SIM card error. It needed to go in for a heart transplant. But there was no time - I had to head out.
I grabbed my iTouch because I know there's some way to receive email on it - I've seen other people do it even though I only have an iTouch because my kids play games on it.
Going through security at the airport, the guard thinks I am an electronic salesman. I now am carrying: the dead SIM card bb (which has become my address book), my son's cell phone (which has the ring tone of Indiana Jones), my iTouch (which I'm still hoping I can figure out how to receive email on), my iPod (to listen to on the plane), a flip video and a Canon Sureshot for the trip.
In Vegas, I try to manage communications - looking up a number in one device, dialing it in another, constantly trying to get the iTouch to grab Wi-Fi so I can check emails. Everything I normally do with the ease is now very difficult or even impossible. I have lost touch.
It's now time for the show, the spectacular breathtaking "Le Reve" at The Wynn. I make a bold decision. I'm going to leave the bag of electronics in the room and just go to the show.
Sitting in the theater, I felt oddly calm, strangely at peace. Nothing was going to pull my thoughts or feelings away from just enjoying this show with my son and his friend. Whatever emails were piling up or text that were going briefly unanswered, would all be there later tonight, waiting for me, after the show.
My breath seemed to slow. I sank deeper into my plush theater seat. How odd that instead of feeling more anxiety about not knowing what I was missing, just the opposite was true, I was happy to just have a break. I hardly recognized my own emotions.
I was reminded of the wisdom of Deepak Chopra, with whom I have been friends for many years. He taught me to meditate and I have since passed the practice along to my kids. We often listen to Deepak's meditation "The Garden of my Soul" at bedtime..
As I relaxed in the freedom of falling, falling off the grid - falling not in a frightening way but in a freeing way - I could hear Deepak's voice in my head:
"Be as present as you can.
And when you become aware that you have wandered from the present moment,
Ask to be brought back. The mind easily slips out of the now.
We fantasize about the future, we reminisce about the past.
When will feel distressed, we anticipate the pain to come or
we remember the pain that went before.
Each detour takes us out of the present moment,
Yet the here and now is the only meeting place where you will find your soul.
Today I will not dwell on the past or the future,
I will realize I have no need for either the past or the future when I step fully into the present.
The present is the home of my being.
The past and the future are only the dreams of whom I was and of what I might become."
When we returned home from the trip and I quickly rushed to the store and got back on the grid. With my shiny new blackberry in hand, I thought I would feel relieved. Yes, a part of me was happy to have all that information back at my fingertips. But another part of me wistfully wished for those free hours when nothing else could interrupt my focus and I was really living the gift of the present.