I’m floating, but am I flying? I drift just high enough to see the catfish clawing at the 12 grain bread loaf. I feel aloof. I’m magnetized towards number One, fighting this endless drift that I try to shake off like salty beach water. It clings. I can taste it in my mouth. The door- not the door. The Drift listens as it hovers me over the roof, and plants me by the window. They’re smiling. I knew they would be. My vision blurs, I heave, trying to catch my breath before it escapes and they notice I’m here. I’m not here, I’m not here, I never was.
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...
Comments