A lesson in detachment

…not, perhaps, the Buddhist kind of detachment, which I would also like to attain at some time, but detachment nonetheless. I’m speaking of detachment from the internet. For most of the last week – maybe a little longer – I’ve had no modem at home. A thunderstorm passing some miles to the south reached out its little electrical finger and knocked out my connections, and fried my modem, without giving any notice at all.

Since then I’ve been dependent for my recommended daily amount of internet connection on a quick stop at the Thessalon Library every morning on the way to work. I can read my email, respond to some of it and get my daily quizzes done on line before I have to disconnect.

Am I jonesing for the ‘net? Maybe just a bit, a little bit. Still, I’m finding more time to read (a biography of Rudyard Kipling, Malcolm Gladwell’s second edition of “blink”, The Secret History of the Mongol Queens). I have more time to think of writing humour, and humour takes a lot of thought. I have more time with the pooch and with David, and to snuggle with Spook, my cat, who comes in for love and leaves again. (He reminds me of Garrison Keillor’s “In and Out Song” where the cat says he’s back, “but not for long, so honey come and kiss me – I think I hear that lonesome whistle blow!”)

I think of it as practice. I’m not talking about the Mayan calendar thing. Apparently the Mayans only ran out of rock when they made their calendar that ended on December 21, 2012. A new one has been found detailing life after 2012. Hope you didn’t tear up your Christmas card lists, because you’re still on the hook. No, I’m thinking of sunspots and solar storms. In 1859 there was a major solar storm that wrought what havoc it could on the pre-internet world. It knocked out telegraph communications, for one – although the wireless operators found that if they took the batteries out of their sets they could still send and receive on the electricity in the atmosphere. Yikes!

We haven’t seen anything that bad since, but some scientists predict another in 2013. That’s going to play merry hob with our world, since we’re so dependent on electronics. Business, finance, transportation, communication – estimates are that it could take a decade to get back to something like normal.

When I read that, I was very glad that I have books and a spinning wheel and all that kind of low-tech stuff. I have a wood stove, too, and a well with a hand pump we can install. I will at least have tea and a book, right?

But I admit to some panic about the whole thing. I’ve become used to my wired-in connected world and life. I like writing on my computer, and talking to people on it. (I can hear my ex-husband laughing from here!) This last week has taught me that I can live, happily even, without the computer and the wired-in world.

It may not happen – I may not need to use the lesson I got this week. I’m still glad I had it.

This entry was posted in Out in the World and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to A lesson in detachment

  1. lucinda kempe says:

    Worst thing might happen is we’d have to start up with the pen. Somewhere I read that the old school writers did better drafts because of pen and Remington Rand’s. Makes a kind of sense yes?

    Gladwell sounds so interesting. Read a quarter of Outliers in the bookstore. The section about later bloomers. I related.


  2. Sometimes, it is a good thing to become unplugged, as long as you’re prepared – and it sounds like you are. For the younger generation, who have been bombarded with technology since they were in diapers, things could be pretty tough on them if they suddenly found themselves without their i-phones, etc.

    A couple of years ago, we were at the cottage when a thunderstorm knocked out all the electricity for two days. We were thankful for the wood stove on which we were able to cook our meals, since we don’t have a BBQ there. It reminded me of my childhood when our cottage kitchen only had a wood stove, bigger than the one we used two years ago, with an actual oven section and four ‘burners’ on top. I remember Mom complaining about the heat while cooking because that thing threw a lot of it into an already-hot kitchen, especially when it was 100 degrees Farenheit in the shade – with no air-conditioning, of course!

    Let’s hope something serious like that doesn’t happen after us old folks are gone, or there could be another Dark Age!

  3. Rainman says:

    Some I ponder at times as well EC. What for me would be the worst would be the loss of daily online conversations with my extended family, many of whom (including you!) I came to know online and have never met face to face (yet!).
    Keep it coming luv!

  4. ecreith says:

    Lest I come across as a gun-totin’ scary survivalist, let me say right here that I’m not wishing this fate on the world, but shit, as they say, happens. Better learn to compost it.
    Lucinda, gal, good to hear from ya! Drop me a line!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s