When I finished my work day yesterday, I opened Facebook and saw something that stirred me, but not in a very good way. I quickly shut my laptop, sent a text to a friend about “getting off Facebook forever” and went for a hike with my beloved dog, Hank. I did NOT take my phone.
As I walked into the humid evening, my heart rate slowed, my mind quieted and my impulsive desire to get off Facebook forever morphed into taking a “Facebook fast” – a term that I came up with after reading a commentary by Tony Reinke entitled “When to Walk Away.” The article introduced me to the idea of a “digital detox,” one which was quite appealing at the time yet one upon which I have not acted. Until now that is.
Not long ago I wrote my four children about the dangers of social media in that there seems to be no more “perfect” platform by which to compare yourself to others. And although I try to cultivate contentment and model that for them, I just as easily fall prey to jealousy of… long-lasting couples, in-tact families, exotic vacations and impressive accomplishments. Whether I allow this to happen, or it does so organically, this comparison robs me of joy.
I think what else “gets me” is the lack of genuine connectedness in this medium. In fact, I wrote down a quote some time ago (but not its source): “We imagine that we’re somehow getting closer to our social network of friends, but I think in some systematic way maybe we’re getting a little farther away from them both physically and psychically.” I believe this is true.
And speaking of truth, I seriously question how much of it we are really exposed to on social media and mainstream media for that matter. Vietnamese monk and Nobel Peace Prize nominee, Thich Nhat Hanh offers this wisdom: “In Buddhism, knowledge is regarded as an obstacle to understanding, like a block of ice that obstructs water from flowing. It is said that if we take one thing to be the truth and cling to it, even if the truth comes in person and knocks at our door, we won’t open it. For things to reveal themselves to us, we need to be ready to abandon our views about them.”
It seems that social media is once again a “perfect” platform for us to cling to our views about the world and ourselves too. So often it seems we are just talking – shouting in some cases – and not really listening to one another. I think we learn far more from doing the latter.
One of the most wonderful things anyone has ever said to me was in a letter from my niece, “You have been kind enough to listen with your whole being when I needed you to; even more than that you have been open about your own struggles in a way that invites that reciprocal vulnerability, in a way that most aunts wouldn’t be with their nieces.”
What I see more often than not on social media, however, is not struggle or vulnerability but protection from revealing these very things that foster true intimacy.
If you’re not ready for a complete “digital detox” – or in my case, a Facebook fast – consider the advice of author Juan Enriquez in his TED Talk on yes, electronic tattoos. Your online life in innumerable ways “can provide as much information about who and what you are as any tattoo ever would [and will outlive you.]”
Think about that! He uses Greek mythology as a springboard for his final pieces of advice: “Be careful what you post; do not look too far into the past of those you love; consider the purpose of the “golden apples” about which you want to post, tweet and send late-night messages; and finally, do not fall in love with your own reflection.”
I, for one, am ready for a season away from a world of digital affirmation in which “I am liked, therefore I am” – on which I have wasted countless hours. Truthfully, I have not followed my own advice. The reason behind my limited screen time rules for the children when they were younger is that I wanted them to grow in self-discipline so that time spent would be “intentional and finite.” Gulp.
Nevertheless in preparing for this season away and for this column, I “happened” upon these powerful words of Oswald Chambers: “We are only what we are in the dark; all the rest is reputation. What God looks at is what we are in the dark— the imaginations of our minds; the thoughts of our heart; the habits of our bodies…”
Who are you “in the dark?” Who am I? The world would be a better place if we only took the time to find out. To be seen and known by God, to see and know each other, to be in His light and inline with His purposes…I believe it’s why we’re here.
I just don’t believe very much, if any, of it will happen… online.
Caroline Watkins
