A Life Chosen

Just a couple of weeks ago, our internet was down, which also meant our television was down too. Our internet/ TV provider was working on the infrastructure, so the entire neighborhood was offline for the better part of a day. 

For most of us, me included, this was a bit frustrating. Most of my work is online, so not being able to get there sidetracked my day. But only sort of.

While we knew in advance that this day would be an offline kind of day, so much of what we do revolves around the use of our Wi-Fi and television. But I also decided that this would be a day of slow living for me. And I knew exactly what that would entail.

Reading, writing, gardening, and taking a very long walk. All of those things happened. 

The day was decidedly old-school in that there was no morning news on the television, there was no evening news, and the distraction of the internet wasn't available. So it was up to me to be productive the way people used to be productive.

It was interesting to write with only my writing software, knowing my internet wasn't there to distract me. It was nice to read a physical book, rather than my Kindle (because I'd forgotten to upload a book I had borrowed through Libby and couldn't read it). The garden is always wonderful, and I transplanted a succulent and tended to the weeds in my herb garden. As for the walk? It was perfect.

But I did tend to keep checking if the wi-fi was back up. I used our 5G, making sure I didn't miss important emails or orders from my business. There is a habitual online way of living that we have acquired that makes it feel like we're functioning abnormally if we don't have it.

Which, from what I'm seeing, is backwards to true living. Do we really feel it's so necessary to be tied to the internet? What would we do if the internet were broken forever? Surely we are more than humans ball-and-chained to our phones.

The next day, my husband and I walked by our elderly neighbor, who was out front picking up errant leaves on her driveway. "So, did you like that day of no internet? I was so lost at what to do without having my television," she said. "I do have a book that I've been ignoring for a year... I suppose it was time to finish it." She laughed, and we laughed, but deep down, her words resonated with me. And maybe depressed me.

Mind you, this is a nearly 80-year-old woman who knew what life used to be without the internet and television. Even she has forgotten what it's like to live without either of them. 

I don't want to live like that, where I'm completely lost if I don't have my television or internet working. The arts have diminished over the last few decades because people aren't writing, reading, painting, sewing, sculpting, playing an instrument, composing music, and myriad of other artistic and creative endeavors. 

We're "influencers" and observers of the arts, rather than partakers, and now we have AI to take care of all of those arts we once knew how to do. (AI, I am not a fan of you in any way.) But, when we take creative liberties and shift away from television or the internet, we are foregoing a life that advertises, entices, and dictates how we're to live; one that forces me to conform.

In reality, we choose our lives. We can live without dependence on the internet, but still use it when we need it. We can live without the television, only watching when we've done the rest of our artistic activities. We can strike a balance by bringing in activities that don't require either of those devices for most of our lives, leaving the internet and television as last resorts.

A life chosen or one chosen for you?

You get to decide.