Beginning: The Hour of My Disconnect

SXSW was a connect-fest. I was tweeting, Facebooking, and blogging to my heart’s content. In a land of free and available-everywhere wi-fi, a tech lover like me thought she fell down the rabbit hole into Wonderland. These online connections led to wonderful off-line connections, too. I met two really amazing women from DC who got a whole group of us together on Group Me, a cool new app that makes it easy to group text message, making the coordination of group plans much easier. These ladies brought in a few others while I got my pals from New York to team up with us, too. It was a wonderful lesson in online connections facilitating off-line interaction.

Balancing our online and off-line existence
Recently I have had some concerns about being a hyper-connected person. My multi-tasking nerd nature still rears its head on occasion and I start to get concerned about its clear ability to consume my time. I have to consciously remind myself that my offline connections need to be of greater proportion than my online ones.

SXSW had me thinking about connections and the growing cross-pollination between offline and online interactions. The wall between the two is slowly breaking down, and now we’re able to more easily facilitate the interactions in both directions. This realization made me feel a bit more comfortable with how many channels I now access to stay connected. Still, I wanted to test myself a bit. Could I survive mostly offline for a few days and not feel lost, not obsess about what I was missing online?

Can we ever really be off-line?
Once I got to Orlando, where I stopped in to see my family after SXSW, I made the conscious decision to take myself offline for a great majority of the time. I wanted to see if I could do it. I wanted to really be there with my family, no distractions. Rather than feeling any anxiety about my disconnection, it felt amazing. After being hyper connected at SXSW, it felt great to shut off my shiny screens and just be in the world. I felt lighter, and I recognized beauty in a clearer way than I have on previous tech fasts.

Once my family dropped me off at the airport and I explained to my eldest niece, Lorelei, that she wouldn’t be able to get on the plane with me this time, I worried that I’d go right back to my device checking ways. But you know what? It never even occurred to me to take out my mobile while I was waiting in line to check my bag.

Unexpected, and delightful, connections
Instead, I was focused on those around me. I worked to keep Phin clam in his travel bag, and I chatted with some people in line. Both the person in front of me and the person behind me had dachshunds, too. While going through security, I met a woman from Iowa and she told me all about the Iowa Writer’s Workshop, a program I’ve been wanting to check out for quite a while. “Here’s my card,” she said. “If you ever get to Iowa, please feel free to stay with me and my family.” I met a man, Francisco, at the gate. He was traveling to Bogota and was worried he was at the wrong gate. With my very rusty Spanish and his equally rusty English, I was able to help him out. In exchange he told me all about his life in Colombia and how he had just retired after many years of working very hard in the agriculture industry. If I had my earphones on or been obsessively checking my mobile, I would have missed all of these interactions. I would have missed the very human element of traveling – time with others.

Weird is where you are
Even once I landed back in New York, I was able to still feel light, and I didn’t have that obsession with checking my mobile device. Austin somehow shifted my take on technology. I don’t see it as a burden but as a great luxury, something I can take or leave depending on my mood and circumstances. It’s no longer giving me a Monkey Mind. Maybe my quest to keep the lightness of Austin with me even after I return home will be an easier road than I imagined. Can I keep it weird wherever I am?