Reconnection:

Posted by admin on Feb 6, 2008 in Issues & Ideas | 0 comments

Every year I’ve been at TWU, I’ve had the pleasure of being in a first-year class. Irrespective of whether the class is a party-class or a sleepy-class, this comes with the dubious enjoyment of sitting behind people bearing laptops. Continually astounded at the nonsense they get up to doing during class, I have lost all of my once-vibrant faith in multi-tasking.

So I have a proposition to make: a campus-wide renewal of the connection to reality. Yes, reality: the green, wet, squishy and cold material world, the free marketplace of ideas, and the people all around. What’s the easiest way of starting this?

Unplugging as much as possible.

When I was young (so much younger than today), I never knew to what lengths my mother went in order to not have a television in the house. Refusing numerous gifts of televisions and enduring such comments of dubious mental fomentation as, “You’re depriving your son of the real world,” she held steadfast, much to my present happiness.

But then computers invaded the home and with it dimmed my connection to reality. I ended up as a bit of a “gamer” for a few years, wasting hours at a time effectively accomplishing nothing. Yes, it was one step up from television: at least there was a small bit of human engagement in my entertainment. I learned how to strategize, learned 73H 13375p34|<, and largely worked out my urges for world domination. No, I wasn't happy; my learning and productivity waned and relationships started to suffer. Even if "the true object of life is play," as G.K. Chesterton had it, playing of the sort that disconnected me from truth, ideas and reality was certainly not the right sort of play, not a true challenge, not part of the true Divine Comedy of life, and ended up being colossally unfulfilling.

Richard Gaillardetz talked about this as an experience of “hyperreality,” where simulation of reality appears more attractive than actual reality, for the facsimile is “brilliant… highlight[ing] the desirable aspects of an experience while excluding all unwanted aspects.” It is “rich, insofar as the given experience is better than the ‘real,’” and it is “pliable, subject to our manipulation and control.” Little wonder that simulation is addicting, and less wonder still that it makes reality seem bland.

This story isn’t so sad: eventually I developed an allergy to spending “recreation time” interacting with neither real people nor real ideas; the allergy lasts to this day. This isn’t a more-principled-than-thou tale: the transition-experience paralleled that of coming off of morphine. My escapes into un-reality closed off, and I was left less happy with myself than ever before. I was much more aware of my shortcomings and failures, plus my previous source of solace had been severed. It hurt.

But one day, seemingly an age thereafter, I woke up, looked out the window and realized it was a glorious day. And each day has been a glorious one ever since; though trials and pains greater than ever before assail me on occasion, the highs are so much higher. When it’s a glorious day, nothing can ever hurt in the same way.

So let’s face it: the goal of the challenge is to join the party! Here is an eminently doable challenge for you: have one week free of television, video-games and non-purposive online-time. To accompany it is a bit of a survival-guide:

First, walk to the library and take out eight books, at least half-interesting novels, even if you have to mimic my problematic library-technique and wander around, getting books by near-random selection.

Second, make a plan to do one or two interesting and exciting things every free night of the week that you’d otherwise spend under electronic amusement. For example: hold a laughing party, write the first chapter of The Great Canadian Novel, go salsa or swing-dancing (opportunities several nights a week for either), get an artsy friend to teach you how to sketch or paint, have a musical jam-session, go to the symphony, have a hot bath and a book, set aside a decent time of prayer and meditation, go swimming, visit the gym, explore the Back 40, get into a good debate or just get a good ten-hour sleep for once. Be creative – the list is endless.

Finally, find a friend who will do this with you. If worse comes to worst, they’ll be the person you can call upon in any dismal hours when good humour and concentration have fled with whom you can talk, rant, create stories or just tell inane jokes.

So give it a shot! Unplug the TV, abandon the video games and exert yourself: body, mind and spirit. Feel the joie de vivre and join the real party of life.