pre-plugged-in life
I paid $35.80 for a full tank of gas today! I don't think I have paid under $40 in years.
Speaking of an earlier time, today I went to visit a classmate I hadn't seen in many years. I had heard from other friends about how she was doing: she had somehow developed an aversion to electricity several years ago and now lived pretty much "electricity-free." We weren't particularly close, but we were always friendly, and I was saddened to find out how difficult the past few years had been for her.
So it was with a bit of apprehension and nervousness that I went to visit her today. I didn't know what to expect--would I find her very depressed? would she tell me about her electricity allergy? what would we talk about? I prayed this morning for God's compassion and kindness. I was ready to comfort, encourage, and extend God's love.
The visit was not at all like what I imagined, which is to say, it was just like old times. She made lunch for me, and we chatted for almost three hours. She asked me a lot about myself and my work, and we had some really great conversation about politics, books, her cat, life in general. She didn't mention her electricity aversion at all, and I never felt like it was appropriate for me to ask. All in all, if I didn't know about it, I wouldn't have thought her life was substantially different. But I did notice a few things: she cooked with a gas stove, there was no microwave, she kept the refrigerator outdoors, and her home had lots of huge windows and an abundance of candles.
What struck me the most, however, was how she spent her time and how she received information--reading books, the newspaper, actually handwriting letters to friends. It really gave me a glimpse of another life, the one pre-computer and internet, where print culture was so much more prevalent. And it hit me how much of my own life revolves around being plugged in: I get all of my news on the internet, I keep in touch through email and my cell phone, I write and read on my computer...these are the trappings of modern life. It was refreshing to see how simple and technology-free her existence is, and reminded me of the beauty that can be found in what is becoming, unfortunately, increasingly obsolete--the simple pleasures of correspondence, the materiality of turning pages (vs. merely scrolling down), the anticipation of waiting for the next morning's newspaper (vs. 24-hour access to a hyperactive news cycle). Her life is attuned to such a different rhythm than mine, and instead of feeling sorry for her, as I initially thought I would, I actually found myself marvelling at her seemingly anachronistic, yet rich life.
Speaking of an earlier time, today I went to visit a classmate I hadn't seen in many years. I had heard from other friends about how she was doing: she had somehow developed an aversion to electricity several years ago and now lived pretty much "electricity-free." We weren't particularly close, but we were always friendly, and I was saddened to find out how difficult the past few years had been for her.
So it was with a bit of apprehension and nervousness that I went to visit her today. I didn't know what to expect--would I find her very depressed? would she tell me about her electricity allergy? what would we talk about? I prayed this morning for God's compassion and kindness. I was ready to comfort, encourage, and extend God's love.
The visit was not at all like what I imagined, which is to say, it was just like old times. She made lunch for me, and we chatted for almost three hours. She asked me a lot about myself and my work, and we had some really great conversation about politics, books, her cat, life in general. She didn't mention her electricity aversion at all, and I never felt like it was appropriate for me to ask. All in all, if I didn't know about it, I wouldn't have thought her life was substantially different. But I did notice a few things: she cooked with a gas stove, there was no microwave, she kept the refrigerator outdoors, and her home had lots of huge windows and an abundance of candles.
What struck me the most, however, was how she spent her time and how she received information--reading books, the newspaper, actually handwriting letters to friends. It really gave me a glimpse of another life, the one pre-computer and internet, where print culture was so much more prevalent. And it hit me how much of my own life revolves around being plugged in: I get all of my news on the internet, I keep in touch through email and my cell phone, I write and read on my computer...these are the trappings of modern life. It was refreshing to see how simple and technology-free her existence is, and reminded me of the beauty that can be found in what is becoming, unfortunately, increasingly obsolete--the simple pleasures of correspondence, the materiality of turning pages (vs. merely scrolling down), the anticipation of waiting for the next morning's newspaper (vs. 24-hour access to a hyperactive news cycle). Her life is attuned to such a different rhythm than mine, and instead of feeling sorry for her, as I initially thought I would, I actually found myself marvelling at her seemingly anachronistic, yet rich life.
posted by mariyaya | 9:14 PM
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