Get disconnected — you’ll find the real world again
Time’s precious, there are things to see before the lights go out
Over the wet and wild winter months, combined with having forsaken all forms of social media, I may’ve inadvertently mastered the fine art of reflection.
It’s been a hibernation of sorts. Thoughts and feelings consisting of memories and reverie have been randomly arriving in my brain’s inbox and, instead of pushing them away, I’ve indulged them. Big time.
Usually, of course, life’s speed and complications mean we often push such contemplations aside. Winter can unleash a tendency towards melancholy so, rather than fight it, I’ve consciously welcomed this period of introspection.
I’ve heard the sound each door in my childhood home makes when slammed, or just gently closed. It’s embedded in my memory if I just listen hard enough. Who knew?
We all know that a particular fragrance or mere whiff of a spring flower can transport you instantly to a person or place from your past. I can instantly conjure the smell of my father’s farm tool shed — sawdust and oily metal.
My dead parents have occupied much musings. Did they do such and such because they cared or didn’t care? What was it that saw them get together? Were their lives above ground as meaningful for them as they were for their children? How about their own childhoods? How did it shape them?
Inevitability my own childhood has also had the
once over. Did that bad thing really happen, or have I rewritten it over time? The good things happened, I’m pretty sure, else why would we remember them so strongly? Was it all golden hay fields and sunshine? Or a hybrid of dusty roads and deep cowshit and mud?
All I know is I’ve allowed myself some time and space to ponder the meaning of it all — none, I suspect — and by not listening to the voices of others online, it has opened up a deeper conversation with myself. It’s been quite the ride and, as yet, there’s no app for private ponderings. But give it time.
The big shift away from social media has meant there’s no bombardment of news. It’s now a case of rationing when, and if, I want to spend any time on media websites. No longer is anybody sharing with me their version of what’s interesting. I decide what I will and won’t look at. No surprises.
Detoxing from the internet means I can now read books again. It’s taken time but my attention span has returned. No more clicking on every other tab while reading, I just turn the real page. More than anything else, the internet has succeeded in slaughtering my concentration levels.
Plus, you know, everyone’s time on Earth is limited. Do we really want to spend most of it in a virtual world? I don’t. The real world is out there fading fast, and there are things to see before the lights go out.
Because, speaking of reflection, the “albedo effect” is in full swing. The precipitous fall in Antarctic sea ice since 2014 means news on the climate front is all bad. Since white ice reflects much more of the sun’s heat back away from Earth than darker water, as the ice melts more heat will be absorbed which in turn will melt more ice. Fun times.
This is but one of a series of predicted feedback loops that have the tangible potential to cause abrupt climate breakdown, with the unfortunate side effect being the end of you and me. Not in some distant far-off future, but possibly within the next decade.
Here’s my point. We keep going until we can’t keep going. Some of us believe in a momentous technological shift that will save humanity forever. Some of us don’t. Others have faith in God, or in climate denial, or in the computer simulated world we live in ending nicely. Others don’t.
For me, it’s about getting real. Time is precious — with or without climate change — and while anxiety and despair are becoming common reactions to the dawning realisation that humanity is likely kaput, it doesn’t have to be. Sure, I’ve been living with the planetary doom narrative for over a decade now, so I’m well ahead of the game on accepting humanity’s end due to the myriad consequences of climate change. Somehow, I still manage to get up in the morning.
The politicians won’t help you. They’re pointless at this late juncture, as is the veneer of democracy. This period of relative stability simply cannot last. It’s impossible, and deep down you know it.
I can share this. Getting back to nature helps the mood, and getting off the man-made devices assists too. Listening to your own voice is decent therapy. Also, start preparing now so that you’re not paralysed by shock.
Make time for reflection.
This period of relative stability simply cannot last.