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Michelle DeRusha

Every Day Faith. Faith Every Day.

taking a technology break

First Notice, Then Choose {thoughts on putting down the phone to be present}

May 17, 2017 By Michelle

Last Saturday my family spent the evening with some good friends.

The kind of friends where it’s perfectly acceptable to sit on the floor so you can be as close to the appetizer platter as possible, instead of on the sofa with your legs crossed and a napkin on your lap.

The kind of friends where you know that the container on the right side of the fridge is where the dog food is kept and the container on the left side of the fridge is the actual trash can.

The kind of friends who invite your parents, too, and you don’t even cringe when your dad’s quips are laced with damn and hell right there in the living room because you know for real it’s all good.

As I was sitting on the floor that evening, gobbling up the salami pretzel rolls and soaking up the comfortable conversation, I realized I rarely snap photos with my phone when we’re hanging out with these friends.

That’s actually quite noteworthy, because I typically take pictures of everything — flowers and birds and food and dogs and landscapes and people. It’s rare that a scene or an experience in my life goes undocumented, and I typically share most of these photos on Instagram and Facebook.

Strangely, though, I can’t remember the last time I snapped a picture of these friends and me and shared it on social media, even though I see them often. And I realized it’s because when I am with these friends, I’m wholly immersed in the real-life experience of being with them, rather than documenting the experience of being with them for someone else.

That night at my friends’ house I dropped olive after olive into my mouth and tasted the saltiness on my tongue. I couldn’t stop laughing when the whirling dervish cotton-ball puppy chased my son in circles, yipping and nipping at his ankles. I reached for yet another olive and listened to the conversation, full and satisfied in all the best ways.

And never once did it occur to me to pick up my phone. Even when I mused over the fact that I wasn’t picking up my phone, I didn’t pick up my phone.

It’s more than a little telling that the act of not documenting an experience was so rare, I noticed it.

“Absence isn’t going to return to us easily,” observes Michael Harris in his book, The End of Absence: Reclaiming What We’ve Lost in a World of Constant Connection. “Every technology will alienate you from some part of your life. That is its job. Your job is to notice. First notice the difference. And then, every time, choose.”

I appreciate Harris’ words, because the fact is, unless we make the radical decision to move to the Montana woods and live off the grid entirely, our lives are going to be infused with technology. There’s no avoiding it; nor, really, should we. Technology is a gift — I remember this when I click Google Maps anytime I need to drive beyond a 10-mile radius of my home. It’s okay to choose technology.

As Harris reminds me, the point is not that we shouldn’t choose technology at all, but that we should consciously make the choice, ever single time, of whether or not we will do so. Too often — and I know this is true for me — we engage with technology subconsciously, out of habit. We reach for our phone. We check our inbox and then, fifteen minutes later, we check it again. We snap a photo and then another.

Last Saturday night I did what Michael Harris suggests, something I don’t normally do: I noticed the difference between not documenting and documenting. I noticed how the simple act of leaving my phone untouched in my purse did, in fact, create the space for a richer, fuller experience.

I don’t have any photos from that lovely evening to accompany this post – nothing to document the experience, nothing that shows what we ate, what we wore, who was there. But when I think back to that evening, I remember that one of my sons ate every last strawberry on the platter. I remember the cotton-ball puppy and the candle flickering on the wall. I remember the stories that made us laugh and the warm, comfortable conversation. Most of all I remember that in that moment, I didn’t want to be anyplace else but right there.

Filed Under: presence, technology Tagged With: taking a technology break

The Spiritual Habit of Taking a Technology Break

June 7, 2016 By Michelle

Grand marais lighthouse 3

The truth is, we were all a bit nervous – me especially. The thought of spending three weeks in a north woods cabin with no WiFi and no television gave us serious pause.

“What will we dooooo?” Rowan whined. “You’ll figure something out,” I assured him. “Either that or you’ll be really, really bored. It’s pretty much your choice.”

I’m as critical of my own addiction to screens as I am of my kids’. Sure, I need social media for my job. It’s how I connect with readers, share my blog posts and support other writers. But I abuse it. I waste A LOT of time online, which impacts not only my productivity, but also my mental health. The time I spend online rarely fills the well. More often than not, scrolling social media leaves me feeling agitated, empty and mysteriously depressed.

After dinner the first night at the cabin, Brad, the kids and I sat around the living and talked, among other things, about global population growth. Population growth! Who would have thought my ten-year-old and fourteen-year-old sons would be interested in talking about population growth!

Honestly, this conversation likely would not have happened at our own house, where, after dinner, Noah typically retreats to his room to listen to music or play computer games, Brad and Rowan enjoy an episode of “River Monsters” or “The Carbonaro Effect,” and I slide into my favorite corner of the couch with my laptop. We chat in bits and pieces between episodes or when Noah descends the stairs to grab a snack, but we rarely converse. Stepping away from our screens for an extended period has given us the space and time to connect in a much deeper and more meaningful way.

Temperance River2

woods2

Rowan on beach2

I’m not saying this technology hiatus won’t have its challenging moments. Yesterday, after 12 straight hours of “quality family time” with my kids, my head just about popped off and plunked into Lake Superior. I ended up sending everyone to their respective beds – myself included — for some much-needed reading time.

Mostly, though, I think it’s going to be good for all of us. Really good. As I sit typing this post at a local cafe, coffee and wild berry scone at my side, my three men are deep in the woods at the edge of a rushing river in pursuit of the elusive “brookie” (brook trout, for those of you who don’t speak fishese). Later we’ll walk Josie beneath a canopy of birch trees, search the shore for the perfect skipping stones and snug under our blankets with a good book.

It’s not easy to take a technology break. Believe me, if I weren’t tucked into a cabin in the north woods of Minnesota with the nearest WiFi a 15-minute drive down the road, I wouldn’t be inclined to step away from my computer for an extended period of time…and certainly not for three weeks. But this forced technology hiatus is helping me to see how critically important it is to step away – not just for a few hours or a weekend at a time, but for an extended period.

Small breaks away from technology are necessary and good, but longer breaks, if you can manage them, are better. After weathering the inevitable two or three days of agitated restlessness that typically accompany a technology detox, you’ll be surprised to find that your days are longer and slower, your breathing deeper and easier, and your mind more free to roam into new, unexplored places.

And the truth is, no one will miss you. I’m not saying that to be cruel; it’s simply a fact. Too much time online leads us to believe that we absolutely have to be there – that if we’re not, the Internet will break or worse, that we’ll be forgotten forever. Neither is true. The noisy, busy world will be just fine without your voice in it for a week or two. And when you come back, it will be as if you were never gone.

This post is the fifth in my Spiritual Habits series. If you missed a post or two, you can catch up here: 

How Our Habits Can Impact Our Spirituality {introduction}

The Spiritual Habit of Digging Dandelions

The Spiritual Habit of Staying in Place

How to Make Bible-Reading a Habit That Sticks

Filed Under: spiritual practices, technology Tagged With: spiritual disciplines, taking a technology break

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For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a Triple Type A, “make it happen” (my dad’s favorite mantra) striver and achiever (I’m a 3 on the Enneagram, which tells you everything you need to know), but these days my striving looks more like sitting in silence on a park bench, my dog at my feet, as I slowly learn to let go of the false selves that have formed my identity for decades and lean toward uncovering who God created me to be.

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