I sometimes find myself pulled between two worlds – the connected world I live in now and the world I imagine my grandmother lived in, minus the heavy physical labour required simply to exist. My grandmother was a pioneer in the Red River Valley in Northern Alberta and daily life was arduous. Plus, she was a working mother, the only teacher in the regional one room school.
My grandmother was born in 1900 and died shortly before her 96th birthday in the fall of 1996. I got my first cell phone that Christmas. I don’t think we even had an answering phone at that time, hard as it is to believe now. I opened my first email account in the summer of 1999 when we moved to Arizona, as an easier way to keep in touch with the friends I left behind.
Just over a decade later and I’m more connected than I ever thought possible. I have four children ages 21 – 26 years old and I’m the one with the growing twitter world. Most of the time I enjoy and embrace the immediacy of connecting with a universe far wider than my own backyard. The learning and awakening happens at light speed and I shift and change with each new awareness.
There are times, however, where I feel the need to withdraw from the age of technology. Where I need to unplug in order to plug into myself. I need time to allow the shifts to settle into place, to let new perceptions filter down into my being. It’s almost as if I lose the ability to communicate when I’m in that space – I’m in the gap between and don’t have the words to language the experience.
If I ignore my need to become a hermit from time to time then my soul will scream louder and louder until I finally listen. My intuition speaks in a dissonant voice, restless energy runs through my body telling me it’s time to slow down and go inward.
Emails are read yet go unanswered. Facebook updates, already infrequent, become non-existent. My twitter stream flows by without my presence. I miss connecting but it’s as if I am without the necessary adapter to plug-in.
I am no longer content to float on the surface of life, but I sometimes wish I remained asleep. It is hard, this life of exploring my own depths, but it is the life I chose and the life I keep on choosing. My mantra of the last five years is as much a part of me as the incessant rain is in Vancouver, the reason I’m surrounded by so much beautiful growth.
I will show what is possible.