Lying asleep last night I met my muse. I almost missed her because she is fairy-quick and hides quite frequently. I grabbed her wrist, tugging on her copper corduroy blazer; she turned and looked at me. She spoke; I heard it with my mind. "I like that you're trying to write a story about me," she said. "I don't know what your story is," I said, "I only know what you look like. What do you want? Where are you going? I don't even know your name." She smiled, put her free hand on my cheek. I let go of her wrist, and just like that, she was gone.
When I was in college I used to intentionally leave my phone in my dorm a few nights a week to go "off grid" and immerse myself with my friends. I refused to buy a smartphone until I graduated, and even then I was reluctant, because "I have a Nook, and an iPod and a computer, why do I need all that in my phone?" I'd say, as I slung my 40lb bag on my shoulder. Katy Bowman, my favorite guru on movement, and movement ecology, speaks to the idea that in "outsourcing" many of the things we do every day, we've lost intentionality, and the movements associated with those intentions. One example would be the invention of backup cameras in cars (except for mine, I'm still rocking that 2005 model). Before, you had to turn your head over your shoulder, look back, and scan the area. Now, you just need to look down at a screen. The movements in our cars are different than they used to be, and perhaps less involved. When I had a separate e-reader, musi...
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