Keeping life in three dimensions

As a teacher, I relied heavily on my computer. I used my computer as a tool to collaborate with other teachers that were in the same room with me, or supplemental to late night phone calls. I had it connected to the smartboard, and used it to organize class periods and share information with my students. I communicated with families and other staff throughout the school in great volume through this amazing tool. 

But I also spent the majority of my time interfacing with my colleagues and students face-to-face.  I hugged their bodies, ranging from pint-sized to ginormous, as they entered my door each morning. I absorbed their joys, sorrows, and frustrations as they grappled with the challenging task of learning. I smelled the sweet middle-school funk each day as they crowded into my room after gym. Everything was loud and vibrant and tangible. 

Since starting my new career, I have found myself staring at my screen for hours at a time. I understand this is not radical for many people. I understand this is "normal." But my recent conversion to this role of Computer Worker has given me insight into what it means to be facing a computer for hours at a time. 

I am staring at a glowing screen and communicating through my fingers pressing plastic keys. Conversations are silent. Emails never quite capture sentiment, emoticons and all. I can't feel the people to whom I'm "talking," nor smell them (for better or worse). Everything it, literally, flat.  It is amazing how much time one can spend in two dimensions. 

And on top of the work elements, there is so much socialization that happens through my computer and phone. Text messages, Instagram, Facebook, Twitter (I just signed onto that and it's completely overwhelming). What a beautiful curse to be able to share everything in our lives with others. What a strange compulsion to want to. I read once that we get a dopamine hit from our pleasure center every time we get a like, an email response, or a comment on our wall. I definitely notice a little rush from these electronic affirmations. 

The crux of this is that, however good it may feel, it is nothing compared to the hit we get in the three dimensional world. And when we limit ourselves to our screens, we limit our ability to absorb the energies of others, to smell the salty breeze that flows in through our windows, to taste the sweet and tart juices of the apple as we take a bite (I am embarrassed to admit the number of times I've eaten while futzing around on the computer). I don't again want to miss one minute of the awe-inspiring sunset as we cruise across the gentle waters out to Peaks Island because I had to send one final email. 

There's nothing evil about the electronic world, and many of us have to learn to work with it. In this strange new world, I know that I need to be intentional about time away, about leaving my phone in my purse or (gasp) at home. I need to stand up from my computer and chat with the person next to me at the coffee shop every so often. I need to be intentional about when I engage, and when I put it away. 

Because this world is too rich to spend all my time in two dimensions.