If I don't look, it does not exist
I wonder
Once upon a time, I was painting every single day. Painting with tears, with paint, with brushes, with a myriad of tools spread all around me like a peacock’s tail. Was I happy? I don’t know! Was I feeling safe? I don’t know! Was I comfortable? No. Was I searching for that elusive breakthrough? Yes.
I claim that I have always been a political animal, mesmerised by the charismatic leaders of the past and not so distant past as well. Loved reading biographies starting with the queens and kings of England, continuing to the ones of Romania, Russia, Asia, the Scandinavian ones as well as … quite a lot of lineages point in that direction.
So, I used to paint a lot and read a lot. The Gandhi political dynasty inspired me as well as the Bhutto one and it remains a mystery how such societies were way ahead of the Western World choosing women as their leaders decades and decades ago and of course killing them for good measure as nothing good lasts or is allowed to develop.
At that time I was dipping in and out of the information stream whenever I wanted. I had my books as my main source of information. Newspapers not much as current politics has always been less interesting than the past. Was there anything I felt that needed clarification and I was in the right mood, I knew exactly what book to choose, which library to go to and buy books or library to borrow books from. I was able to be my own guardian and mental health guru, control the information stream and even stop, think and contemplate.
I knew when to switch off and concentrate on other things and when not to. I was competent enough to protect my information related boundaries.
Come the smart phones and little by little I lost my own inner freedom and peace of mind. We are bombarded with useless information, things we cannot control, things we don’t know about but are pushed to take sides on and join one group or another, most of the time on opposite sides. We are all in an informational overdrive these days and our minds are tired of it all - most of the time we are not even thinking anymore, we recite the words spoken by others, move in a trance not quite being able to differentiate between fiction and reality!
But we are hooked, glued to the little box in our hand, tired and easily manipulated.
Once upon a time I used to paint, and read and write … now I consume information and without realising when all this happened I joined the masses who follow the box.
Things need to change. Are you aware what the box called phone brought to your life? Good, bad, ugly? I wonder what would your assessment be after an hour or so of a journalling session exploring the reality of the smart phone and its impact on your life.
I know I need change! I know the spell of the “box” needs to be broken!
The next step, an honest assessment of “the phone in my life” - what it gives me, what it takes away from me.
Once upon a time I used to …..
Are you ready to explore this subject?
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