I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Kathleen Bolduc’s reflection Unplugged.
As a spiritual director and retreat leader, I love to guide retreatants in unplugging from technology and plugging into rich rhythms of the spiritual disciplines and the harmonies of nature. Photography as contemplative practice, Lectio Divina, Visio Divina, and contemplative prayer are part of my well-worn path.
A teacher can only teach well that which she knows well, so these practices are the leaven of my daily life; enabling a daily rising, feeding my soul with delicious bread.
Recently, during a vacation in the mountains of Tennessee, I had a rude awakening. The Spirit revealed the depth of my dependence on the instantaneous information I carry everywhere I go.
It was stated very plainly in the cabin’s literature. No internet. No cell phone service. No problem, I thought. The trade-off was 10 acres on a rock-strewn stream at the foot of majestic Roan Mountain. Dogwood, rhododendron, and azalea in full bloom; yellow swallowtail butterflies dancing on the wind; a chair next to the creek; my journal and several good books in the book bag; my husband off fly-fishing. What more could a contemplative want?
The first day? Absolute perfection. My husband drove off with his fly rod and waders, leaving me alone in a chair nestled next to a singing stream with a view of Roan Mountain rearing up over the valley.
Words for a poem flowed as I sat alone but not lonely in this little piece of paradise.
My technology addiction began to rear its ugly head on day two. As I transferred my poem from journal to computer, I hit the search bar to look up synonyms. Drat! No internet. I wrote out all the words I could think of—definitely a longer process with far fewer words to work with.
I was surprised when the act of waiting for words gradually calmed my frustration.
Later in the day I heard a joyful burst of birdsong—a song I’d never heard before. I grabbed my phone to open the Merlin app. Identify that bird, quickly, before it flies away! My heart sank. No internet, no cell service. Annoyance slipped from my lips in a four letter word. I want to know what bird sings such a glorious song! Instead, I spent several minutes searching the trees. I never did spot the bird, but her song, little by little, eased away my irritation.
I can’t count the number of times I picked up my phone to send a text to a friend or one of my kids—part of my daily ritual of staying connected. I breathed out my frustration by saying a prayer for each person who came to mind. I wondered what connection they might feel on the other end of that prayer. It certainly brought peace to my spirit.
I had downloaded a couple of movies on my computer before leaving home, to watch on rainy days or long evenings. “Mending the Line” turned out to be an excellent meditation on fly-fishing as a healing practice for combat veterans suffering from PTSD. The main character looked so familiar.
“Isn’t he the guy that narrates that travel show you like?” I asked my husband.
“I think so.”
“What’s his name?”
“Beats me. I’m trying to watch the movie!”
Again, I picked up my phone to find the information I felt like I needed to know.
Annoyance boiled up once again. What was I thinking, renting a cabin with no internet or cell service?!
Thankfully, I was still able to hear the Spirit’s whisper. Just watch the movie. Soak in the story. Listen for the wisdom woven into it.
What is this need to know that has embedded itself like a virus into my body and mind? Does knowing what kind of bird I’m hearing make its song more beautiful? Does finding a word instantaneously improve my writing? Could it be the act of stopping and waiting for a word helps other thoughts to rise?
Does a short text saying, “Hey there! I’m thinking of you!” mean more than a prayer uttered for the recipient as I walk in the woods or work in the kitchen? This is a faith-builder, hoping and praying these mini-prayers hit their mark and actually make a difference in a loved one’s day.
And why in the world is the name of an actor so important to know? A scroll through my newsfeed shows just how addicted our culture has become to celebrity worship. Is that who I’ve become? God help me!
As the first week progressed I relaxed into my body, letting all five senses carry me away from the need to know to the deeper need to simply “be.” To be totally present, in a verdant valley, next to a singing stream, watching the water flow over rocks as old as time itself. To soak in the myriad shades of spring green, and to delight in the songs of birds I may never know the names of. To watch the clouds build up and disperse above and around the mighty Roan.
This knowing—knowing that soaks deep down to my bones—is a knowing that transforms rather than educates.
The Spirit used these frustration interruptions on a cell phone and internet free vacation as valuable reminders that there is nothing I can “know” intellectually that can ever begin to compete with total immersion in the beauty of God’s creation.
Kathleen Deyer Bolduc is a spiritual director, author, and co-founder of Cloudland, a contemplative retreat center. Her books, including The Spiritual Art of Raising Children with Disabilities, contain faith lessons learned parenting a son with autism, and finding healing and restoration through the spiritual disciplines. KathleenBolduc.com
