i finally stopped pursuing things and began devouring them.
i let myself be and returned to myself (JSC)
Before dinner we sat on the veranda and enjoyed our freshly cut yard. The breeze was warm and the chimes sang of the approaching rain. Simple, delicious: cheese, carrots, hummus with pine nuts and roasted bell peppers. Hard cider with ginger. A lit candle, until the wind snuffed it out. These simple moments are what my husband and I live for. An hour before supper and we were sitting outside eating cheese and hummus while the world rushed by in a muted roar from the highway. We laughed; we talked about movies, about music, about friends' posts on Instagram. We were connected to each other and to the world.
Connection has become a catch word. We are always "connected". Phone, computer, tablet, TV: all remain plugged in to constant information, updates, and news. "Did you hear about Steve?" your mother asks. "It was all over Facebook." "Carol got the job!" your sister cheers; she saw a picture of your cousins new office on Instagram.
It's neat, really. We can see into the lives of our loved ones any time they decide to share news or photos. The good, the bad, the ugly are instantly accessible whether we look for it or not. We "know" about the lives of others, but do we really KNOW others?
The more we connect via satellites and hash tags, the more we disconnect from human emotion, human touch. We can text :) but can we really remember the way our friends eyes crinkle when she smiles? The way he rolls his eyes when we tease?
I love Instagram and Pinterest. I enjoy creating online communities. I blog; it's obvious. Technology has allowed us to reach out to people we may never meet in person, who we may have never met at all and cultivate a community of friends and kindred souls. We have blog block parties and email each other encouragement when something doesn't go according to plan. I love that. It's my job and my enjoyment.
for a moment, step away from the blog, from the social media for an evening. Invite someone to dinner, to hors d'oeuvres. Have a friend to tea, a parent to lunch, a sibling for finger foods, beer on the back porch. And listen. Watch. Remember. Remember the taste of tomatoes picked from your uncle's farm. Remember the wrinkles on your fathers hands when he'd hug you goodbye. Remember the laugh of your mother, the smirk of your friend, the way your spouses hair flutters in his eyes when he's lost in thought. See it. Record it and stockpile these moments.
Yes, we can always access the pictures afterwards but the feelings, the emotions, the touch, the scent...those things will never have a technological substitute. They are sacred.
Enjoy your Monday,