Tossed to Techno-Sea: My Slow Rescue from the Rapids of Social Media

“Before technology allowed us to be anywhere anytime, conversation with other people was a big part of how we satisfied our brains’ need for stimulation. But now, through our devices, our brains are offered a continuous and endlessly diverting menu that requires less work. So we move away from the slower pace, where you have to wait, listen and let your mind go over things.”

Becky Turkle, Reclaiming Conversation: the Power of Talk in the Digital Age

“I am 100% convinced that the church needs more people who actively wrestle publicly.”

Lore Wilbert, Practicing Resurrection in Grave-clothes

Becky Turkle in her book, Reclaiming Conversation: the Power of Talk in the Digital Age, argues that the American public is fleeing from in-person conversations. Conversations that bring empathy, intimacy and productivity. She says we are fleeing to a “safer” place, to our online “communities.”

Reading her book was the cherry on top of the many writings I have read this year about intentional living and technology’s propensity to thwart it. I am deeply curious about what it could look like to live at this slower pace that allows for enough time to wait, listen and let our minds go over things.

That is what I hope this quiet online space can be. A place to type slowly and not be bullied into posting quickly. Social media had my mind spinning at lightening speed. Here (without infinite scroll) I’ll be slow and as Lore Wilbert suggests, “actively wrestle publicly” before you. My thoughts will not be polished, nor my interpretations concrete, but I will come to you as I am… in progress, mid-thought process. I invite you along because God is doing things in me, pressing concerns on my heart.

And what concerns me most is this: the use of technology, specifically social media, has placed a burden around our necks, that is too much to bear in the swift flow of this modern life. We are swallowed whole and we don’t know what ate us. And we are experiencing this burden alone. Isolated. But I’m curious. What would it look like if we put our phones down— not just for a minute, not for an hour, but forever (at least in the sense of its power)? What if we met up for coffee, instead of sending off a quick text? We are losing more that just a few hours of downtime because of our compulsive relationship with technology. We are losing our relationships, our creativity and even our ability to hear from God. Something’s gotta give.

I have not arrived. My life is not hedged in with peace at every corner, but through my research, through the pulling back of the use of technology, through the work of the Holy Spirit— I have a clearer head and a more receptive heart. I am free, more free anyway, to pursue God, work creatively, and enjoy everyday moments.

Before this pull-back of technology, my head was swirling with posts of other people’s beautiful everyday moments. Because I was interested in writing on social media about the beauty of my hundred year old neighborhood, my Instagram feed was filled with quippy alliterative one-liners encouraging me to quiet my mind, take a walk and look around me. The messages were good, but I started to wonder, to doubt. Are these influencers really enjoying the everyday moments that they are posting about? I followed their electronic trail and saw that they posted daily, commented constantly. Where do they find the time to take beautiful pictures, be present online, sculpt sentences to inspire and live deeply with the fleshy faces that God placed in their homes and on their street? At first I felt lame for not being able to keep up, but over time my feelings changed.

I became skeptical and their posts became noise.

I could smell my own hypocrisy. What started out as passion to inspire people to live quietly, became a compulsion to impress through likes and well framed photos. Social media had formed me into someone I didn’t like and I couldn’t even see it. I was too busy scrolling.

There was a dark truth on the flip-side of my glowing sidewalk images. It wasn’t until I took a step back from social media that I realized, I was actually taking walks, to take pictures, to have something to post online. Yuck. How did I get here?

Furthermore, I was afraid to be caught.

What if my neighbors find my writing online and call me out as the phony that I am? For all my talk online of the slow life, could they see I was in reality always in a hurry to take a picture and retreat to my home to write about them? The fast pace culture of Instagram was the perfect dark corner to encourage my good desire (to inspire people to live quietly) to grow mold— a desire to be sassy, sensible and sophisticated. I lost track of the dream God tucked inside me. I lost track of myself. I lost track of my neighbors I wanted to care for.

So I’ve pulled back online. A ton. At least for now. And I’ve pushed forward in person, on my street. And let me tell you, it wasn’t easy. Not at first.

That part of me that loves to curate and make myself seem more than a simple, awkward human is dying a slow death. By choosing to take the summer off social media altogether, I felt like I was missing out. If I ever joined back in the game, I would be so far behind…

But several weeks of no social media and that fear fell off a cliff. My body caught up to my soul.

My brain, having breathed the fresh air of reality for the longest chunk of time since childhood (!!), recognized that online life was not real. The immediacy I felt to comment, post, take pretty photos— was gone. There were no emergencies after all. I have a choice to step out. And so does everyone else. That is why I write to you now— so everyone has the chance to know they have a choice.