My magnetic north? Your magnetic north?
It’s not here! Where is it?! If something untoward happens, what can I do? A car accident; an attacking grizzly bear (well, probably not that); or if, once again, I accidentally drop my car keys down a deep elevator shaft? Disaster scenarios just float through my worried brain like confetti. Staging negative cliffhanger, after negative cliffhanger, after…
NOW STOP! Just stop. Do you recall driving across the country (twice), hiking trails with a rattlesnake blocking the path, and hitchhiking to Cape Cod? (OMG, I’d totally forgotten about the hitchhiking. An excellent reason to be 21 only once in a lifetime. Even I blanch at my remembered naïveté. Moving on…)
All of this, all of this, accomplished with the presence of NO cell phone.
I did all that?
Yes, you really, really did - with the presence of no cellphones.
I do, faintly, recall the memory of those cell phone-less days. There was no unconscious tic in my right hand, as there is now, continually reaching down to feel the outlines of my pocketed cell phone. (And breathing a sigh of relief. “It’s there! It’s there!”) In those cell phone-less days, I actually remembered friends’ phone numbers. Just rolled off my tongue, or my fingers, when dialing. Gone now, all the numbers are owned by my cell phone contact list. A small hunk of metal now seems to function as my lifeline…to, well, everything.
Magnetic north seems to have become my iPhone. (And after all those years of therapy!) I’ve discerned, but am embarrassed to admit, that my iPhone has inspired in me a never-ending personal thirst for anything at all, on its screen. (Oh, god, shades of my early TV watching habits, outgrown, or so I thought.) My iPhone is the first thing I turn to in the morning, and the last, at night. I feel naked without it. (There must be 12-step programs for this burgeoning addiction.) Truly leaves me wondering if my right hand automatically curls into an iPhone-cradling position when I’m sleeping.
And then, and then, I actually forgot my iPhone! My wedded digital companion. (Super, major, intake of panicked breath.) Left it at home, charging, when I went to the grocery store. The short driving distance was filled with my fearful thoughts: what if x, y, or even worse, z occur? I-don’t-have-my-cell-phone! I managed to keep my cool (well, at least therapy had some impact.) Thank heavens, my inner voice was still in residence. Words of wisdom popped up - pay attention to the people in the store. And…I actually listened! Suddenly, my feet were touching the ground and my iPhone panic abated.
And at that juncture, my iPhone, my beloved iPhone, began to slowly move away from compass north (well, somewhat, anyway.) I’d forgotten about people. I allowed my iPhone to obscure the alive hearts and minds surrounding me. Obscure aliveness, period! Good-hearted folks who, mostly, want to be present to other people, and we, present to them. (Better than an iPhone any day!) I’m heading for downright trite here, so bear with me. The Golden Rule. Pretty trite, eh? Yeah, but did any of us attain the age of 10 years old without hearing about the Golden Rule (sometimes, ad nauseam?)) In Southern idiom, play nice with others and they’ll play nice with you. A reflection of our common humanity, and good playground behavior, as well.
Yep, my singular focus on the iPhone had become a wall, blinding me to seeing you, and you, and you, the real live people who also populate my world. Of course, each of us has our own human frailties, no denying that. On the whole, though, a bit of the Golden Rule is alive in most of us. I believe there’s goodness in most folks (no matter who we vote for) and I want to be on the lookout for that goodness. I can’t if my iPhone is magnetic north and the primary focus of my attention. Humphrey Bogart‘s iconic line, from the classic movie Casablanca, pretty much expresses my starting place for being more present, “Here's looking at you, kid” (And you, and you, and…)
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All of this and then some! Hitchhiking, YES! I was 18 and hitched from a commune in Northern Maine back to my Dad’s home in NH--alone. I was bullet proof! It was a time when I had to believe that most people were inherently honorable, and they were, and I was mostly safe.
I was just talking to my husband about how when people used to try and give me directions to their home, or some other place, my eyes would glaze over and I’d just shut down, because they would go on and on. Oh for gods sake just give me an address and I’ll find it no problem! That was before cell phones. Maps!! I always had maps in my car. Rand McNally was my True North. If I had an address I could find anyplace on my maps. I still have those old maps, now relegated to the top of the book shelf instead of a side pocket in my car. I also use some of the older ones in making Junque Journals.
I looked to see if maps were still sold online--very pricey!!
Thank you, Art!