I am gearing up for our first Tech-free Day without computers, phones, cars, and clocks this Sunday, and I am both excited and fearful that I am woefully unprepared. What will we DO with a whole day and evening of free time and no way of looking things up on the internet or connecting with friends? I am just hoping to wing it and follow our intuition or our bliss, or whatever strikes our fancy. Food, always my main concern, shouldn't be a problem since for this day, cooking is ok and so is take-out. We just can't use the phone to call and order it.
My biggest worry has actually been our one fixed plan – a birthday party that runs from 10:30am to 1:00pm on Sunday. I now have a better understanding of the difficulty of observing a Sabbath in a world and a community that is on a different schedule and plan. I have been worrying for a week now about how we will get to the party on time without a clock to guide us. I even made a point of checking out how the sun comes in the window at 10:30am, in hopes of timing our departure that way. Paying closer attention to the natural world (the sun) is a good thing, so I don't think it's cheating. And spending time with friends is definitely in the spirit of this experiment, so we are going to make an effort to get to the party. We just might be a little late. Or early. And I have to remember to look up the address on the Evite before Saturday at sunset. Paper invitations are a rarity these days.
I am starting to realize what a slave I am to the clock, especially with a little one who thrives on structure and consistency. My son, Peter, needs to have breakfast by 8:30. He has lunch at 12:00 and goes down for a nap at 1:00. He needs to nap for at least an hour, so if he calls out before 2:00, I encourage him to stay in his crib for at least a little longer. He has dinner at 6:00, so if he asks for a snack after 5:00, I try and keep it light, or give him an early dinner if he is really hungry. He has his bath at 6:30 so that he can be in bed by 7:00 each evening. With all of these checkpoints, I am constantly looking at my watch to see if it is “time” for him to eat or sleep. In a sense, it feels a bit like lazy parenting – I rely on the clock to tell me what he needs instead of looking to him for signs of hunger and sleepiness.
So what if I just let him guide me for a day regarding his needs for food and sleep? Would that be so bad? Sure, he might subsist on rice cakes for a few meals if he fills up on “snack” too close to dinner. He might get to stay up a bit later that usual. That's really the worst that could happen. And on the positive side, my maternal instincts will get a workout as I pay close attention to him to see what he needs in a given moment instead of just going by the clock. Luckily he is starting to talk a bit more, so I can always ask him if he is hungry or needs to sleep. I think I'm getting closer to my goal of familial intimacy, I just hope I don't alienate my friends by showing up for their party at 8:30 in the morning...
By the way, I have adjusted the security settings on my Comments to make it a little easier for you all to post. What do you think? Do you think it is beneficial or even possible to disengage from our attachment to timekeepers in a society that functions "by the clock"?
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Shmirat Shabbat: A Day of Rest
I needed some encouragement in anticipation of my first technology-free day, and so I turned to people who do without technology on a weekly basis, and have been doing it for thousands of years already. Jews have traditionally reserved the time from sundown on Fridays to sundown on Saturdays as a period of rest. No work, no driving, no chores, and especially no internet. Just eating and hanging out with friends and family. A real break from the work week. It's called Shmirat Shabbat. Abraham Joshua Heschel, theologian and author of “The Sabbath: Its Meaning for Modern Man” calls the Sabbath a “palace in time”: “The meaning of the Sabbath is to celebrate time rather than space. Six days a week we live under the tyranny of things of space; on the Sabbath we try to become attuned to holiness in time. It is a day on which we ... turn from the results of creation to the mystery of creation.”
Leaving behind the *stuff* that our lives become cluttered with (the results of creation) and using the time to examine what we believe (the mystery of creation) sounds noble and philosophical. But what does this mean in concrete terms? Heschel again: “To set apart one day a week for freedom, a day on which we would not use the instruments which have been so easily turned into weapons of destruction, a day for being with ourselves, a day of detachment from the vulgar, of independence of external obligations, a day on which we stop worshipping the idols of technical civilization ... is there any institution that holds out a greater hope for man's progress than the Sabbath?”
So “weapons of destruction” sounds a bit extreme, but “worshipping the idols of technical civilization” is right on target if you have ever observed a new iPhone owner at close range. And can you believe he wrote that in 1951, before the iPhone was even a twinkle in Steve Jobs' eye? At any rate, I wanted to find out how “Shomer Shabbat” is actually observed, if at all, in the modern world, and what kind of effect it has on the lives of the observers. Is it an antiquated ritual whose myriad restrictions modern Jews find oppressive? Or is it an indispensable way for people to re-connect with their families, friends, and even their own souls on a weekly basis?
For Ronit Frank, a stay-at-home mother of a happy 5-month-old baby girl, it is both. Frank grew up in Israel, where she had “the best childhood ever,” partially because the whole community where she lived kept Shabbat. “I have a deep memory of it being something fantastic as a kid, but as I grew older it was more like 'been there, done that'.” Frank recalls Shabbat during her childhood as “magical. It was our time to stop everything and relax and enjoy family and sit around and talk.” But along with adulthood came a different perspective. “As I grew older,” says Frank, “I didn't accept the explanation of why we don't do certain things. ... I wanted to go to the beach and I needed a car. It was kind of depressing not being able to go anywhere and do all this stuff.” She lives in a suburb of the San Francisco Bay Area now, where life without a car is, for many, unthinkable.
America's love affair with the automobile is well documented, and many Americans depend on their cars to get everywhere. Is there a benefit beyond environmental reasons for staying out of your car for a day? Like, Ronit Frank, Jen Friedman lives in the suburbs of the San Francisco Bay Area. She observes Shabbat regularly, and she is also tempted by the freedom of the automobile: “Some days it would be much more fun to get in the car.” But for her, the trade-off is worth it. She has observed Shabbat her whole life, with no plans to change: “It lets you rest and lets your soul rest. It's just you and your family and god. There's not technology or work to get in the way.” Emily Shapiro Katz, a San Francisco mother of two who observes Shabbat, thinks not driving is the whole point: “The not driving on Shabbat thing is brilliant. That is what defines close-knit Jewish communities because you have to live near each other. That was the great downfall in the 50s of suburban sprawl that destroyed communal intimacy. Shabbat-observant communities still have that because you have to live close to each other.”
Building intimacy within families and communities is perhaps the biggest reason I want people to take a break from technology. In stark contrast to how most people view technology – as a time saver and communication enabler – I believe that technology often actually gets in the way of communication. It's a distraction, another layer between two people. Jen Friedman looks forward to Shabbat because there is nothing to get in the way of thinking and communicating: “Without distractions, your mind can actually work. You have time to read, to think, to talk.” Ronit Frank also remembers Shabbat as a time when people enjoyed being together and having real conversations: “Nobody was watching TV, people actually talked to each other, and got into depth of the subject. We were actually meeting up with each other, we had no other option. I remember having fun, really enjoying my parents because they were not working, they were not busy. My mom was not ironing or cleaning, she was just there. It was pure joy.”
This connection between parent and child is an explanation that I heard over and over again for why people still observe Shabbat in modern society. Elana Bernstein Storch is a Practice Administrator for a cardiology practice in Phoenix, Arizona and a busy mother of four who sees Shabbat as “a gift”. Like Friedman, she has been observing Shabbat her entire life: “I have a tremendous quality of life. No to do list. No errands. It's very important to take time out from your week for reflection and have the time with your children. ... Some friends don't observe the Sabbath, they go to the movies or whatever. I really feel like they are missing out.” Ronit Frank's sister felt like she was missing out on the family closeness of her childhood by not keeping Shabbat. Frank told me how her sister has decided to give Shabbat another try: “Now she is married and she is going back. She feels that it brings the family more together and keeps it whole. She says: 'If I did not keep Shabbat, I would not be able to talk to my son or do anything with him.'” For these women, giving up driving or watching TV is a small price to pay for a closer relationship with their children. Jen Friedman sums it up: “If I didn't give this to my kids, it wouldn't feel right.”
Hearing all of these stories about the peace and intimacy people get out of a day to rest and re-connect with their families was just the encouragement I needed to plan my first Kosina Family Tech-Free Day. In fact, I started feeling a bit wimpy just eliminating laptops for the day. I'm not ready to take the plunge and eliminate all electricity yet, but I can definitely live without computers, cell phones, clocks, and cars for a day. For practical reasons, I've chosen a Sunday for our own personal Sabbath, and decided to adopt the Jewish tradition of starting at sundown on Saturday, February 27th and ending when we see three stars in the sky on the evening of Sunday, February 28th. Maybe we'll even watch the sunset, something I've been wanting to do as a family for years now, but somehow haven't found the time for yet.
Want to read more about observing a Sabbath?
Here are some links to get you started:
The Sabbath Manifesto, a "creative project designed to slow down lives in an increasingly hectic world" offers tips for how to observe your own Sabbath and testimonials from happy Sabbath observers.
Sabbath Keepers offers multimedia profiles of three different people who keep the Sabbath in modern society.
And lastly, evidence that I am not alone in my quest for people to put down their electronic devices and talk to each other. Here is an article about a cafe in Oakland that asked patrons to turn off their laptops for a day and actually talk to each other at communal tables.
Leaving behind the *stuff* that our lives become cluttered with (the results of creation) and using the time to examine what we believe (the mystery of creation) sounds noble and philosophical. But what does this mean in concrete terms? Heschel again: “To set apart one day a week for freedom, a day on which we would not use the instruments which have been so easily turned into weapons of destruction, a day for being with ourselves, a day of detachment from the vulgar, of independence of external obligations, a day on which we stop worshipping the idols of technical civilization ... is there any institution that holds out a greater hope for man's progress than the Sabbath?”
So “weapons of destruction” sounds a bit extreme, but “worshipping the idols of technical civilization” is right on target if you have ever observed a new iPhone owner at close range. And can you believe he wrote that in 1951, before the iPhone was even a twinkle in Steve Jobs' eye? At any rate, I wanted to find out how “Shomer Shabbat” is actually observed, if at all, in the modern world, and what kind of effect it has on the lives of the observers. Is it an antiquated ritual whose myriad restrictions modern Jews find oppressive? Or is it an indispensable way for people to re-connect with their families, friends, and even their own souls on a weekly basis?
For Ronit Frank, a stay-at-home mother of a happy 5-month-old baby girl, it is both. Frank grew up in Israel, where she had “the best childhood ever,” partially because the whole community where she lived kept Shabbat. “I have a deep memory of it being something fantastic as a kid, but as I grew older it was more like 'been there, done that'.” Frank recalls Shabbat during her childhood as “magical. It was our time to stop everything and relax and enjoy family and sit around and talk.” But along with adulthood came a different perspective. “As I grew older,” says Frank, “I didn't accept the explanation of why we don't do certain things. ... I wanted to go to the beach and I needed a car. It was kind of depressing not being able to go anywhere and do all this stuff.” She lives in a suburb of the San Francisco Bay Area now, where life without a car is, for many, unthinkable.
America's love affair with the automobile is well documented, and many Americans depend on their cars to get everywhere. Is there a benefit beyond environmental reasons for staying out of your car for a day? Like, Ronit Frank, Jen Friedman lives in the suburbs of the San Francisco Bay Area. She observes Shabbat regularly, and she is also tempted by the freedom of the automobile: “Some days it would be much more fun to get in the car.” But for her, the trade-off is worth it. She has observed Shabbat her whole life, with no plans to change: “It lets you rest and lets your soul rest. It's just you and your family and god. There's not technology or work to get in the way.” Emily Shapiro Katz, a San Francisco mother of two who observes Shabbat, thinks not driving is the whole point: “The not driving on Shabbat thing is brilliant. That is what defines close-knit Jewish communities because you have to live near each other. That was the great downfall in the 50s of suburban sprawl that destroyed communal intimacy. Shabbat-observant communities still have that because you have to live close to each other.”
Building intimacy within families and communities is perhaps the biggest reason I want people to take a break from technology. In stark contrast to how most people view technology – as a time saver and communication enabler – I believe that technology often actually gets in the way of communication. It's a distraction, another layer between two people. Jen Friedman looks forward to Shabbat because there is nothing to get in the way of thinking and communicating: “Without distractions, your mind can actually work. You have time to read, to think, to talk.” Ronit Frank also remembers Shabbat as a time when people enjoyed being together and having real conversations: “Nobody was watching TV, people actually talked to each other, and got into depth of the subject. We were actually meeting up with each other, we had no other option. I remember having fun, really enjoying my parents because they were not working, they were not busy. My mom was not ironing or cleaning, she was just there. It was pure joy.”
This connection between parent and child is an explanation that I heard over and over again for why people still observe Shabbat in modern society. Elana Bernstein Storch is a Practice Administrator for a cardiology practice in Phoenix, Arizona and a busy mother of four who sees Shabbat as “a gift”. Like Friedman, she has been observing Shabbat her entire life: “I have a tremendous quality of life. No to do list. No errands. It's very important to take time out from your week for reflection and have the time with your children. ... Some friends don't observe the Sabbath, they go to the movies or whatever. I really feel like they are missing out.” Ronit Frank's sister felt like she was missing out on the family closeness of her childhood by not keeping Shabbat. Frank told me how her sister has decided to give Shabbat another try: “Now she is married and she is going back. She feels that it brings the family more together and keeps it whole. She says: 'If I did not keep Shabbat, I would not be able to talk to my son or do anything with him.'” For these women, giving up driving or watching TV is a small price to pay for a closer relationship with their children. Jen Friedman sums it up: “If I didn't give this to my kids, it wouldn't feel right.”
Hearing all of these stories about the peace and intimacy people get out of a day to rest and re-connect with their families was just the encouragement I needed to plan my first Kosina Family Tech-Free Day. In fact, I started feeling a bit wimpy just eliminating laptops for the day. I'm not ready to take the plunge and eliminate all electricity yet, but I can definitely live without computers, cell phones, clocks, and cars for a day. For practical reasons, I've chosen a Sunday for our own personal Sabbath, and decided to adopt the Jewish tradition of starting at sundown on Saturday, February 27th and ending when we see three stars in the sky on the evening of Sunday, February 28th. Maybe we'll even watch the sunset, something I've been wanting to do as a family for years now, but somehow haven't found the time for yet.
Want to read more about observing a Sabbath?
Here are some links to get you started:
The Sabbath Manifesto, a "creative project designed to slow down lives in an increasingly hectic world" offers tips for how to observe your own Sabbath and testimonials from happy Sabbath observers.
Sabbath Keepers offers multimedia profiles of three different people who keep the Sabbath in modern society.
And lastly, evidence that I am not alone in my quest for people to put down their electronic devices and talk to each other. Here is an article about a cafe in Oakland that asked patrons to turn off their laptops for a day and actually talk to each other at communal tables.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Nothing with a Face
Deciding what technology to do without on Technology-free Day is a bit like deciding how to be a vegetarian. It seems simple at first. No meat. Well, does fish count as meat? There are plenty of pescetarians out there who wouldn't think of letting a morsel of cow past their lips, but have absolutely no qualms about eating fish. And what about wearing leather? Is it ok to kill an animal to get a pair of shoes if you don't believe in killing an animal to get a hamburger? Some vegans don't eat honey because they believe the production of honey exploits bees. Followers of Jainism, an ancient Indian religion that preaches non-violence against all living beings, wear face masks so that they don't accidentally breathe in a gnat and kill it. And for those of you who thought peanut butter was a perfectly acceptable vegetarian alternative, read this article about food contaminants. Apparently the FDA allows an “average of 30 or more insect fragments per 100 grams of peanut butter” before it starts investigating.
So, what's an animal lover to do? Some vegetarians draw the line at eating anything with a face. So animal products like honey and milk would be ok, but they won't eat anything that could look you in the eye. I tried adopting this policy for Technology-free Day, and decided to eliminate anything with a “face” or screen. So, no computers, no TVs, no cell phones, but then I realized {gasp} that clocks would have to go too. Well that threw me into a panic.
I tried another approach: nothing with an on/off switch. Pretty straightforward. Again, computers, TVs, cell phones, but what about lights? Lamps have on/off switches. So do coffee grinders and stove burners. Does a key in a car count as an on/off switch? Hmm.
Perplexed, I turned to Judaism. Jews, as I mentioned previously, have been going “technology free” for hundreds of years on a weekly basis to rest and observe “Shabbat”. They have very specific rules for this stuff, and strictly forbid 39 different categories of work. It is also forbidden to get someone else to do the work for you, so even though you can't cook, you also can't just get take-out. Making fire is forbidden, and this rule has been adapted to the modern age to ban turning on lights and even starting cars, since the spark plug lights a fire in the engine.
I realized that like vegetarians, I would just have to draw the line somewhere. And that the line could move. I could start out by banning the biggest offenders: computers (which for us includes TV since we watch movies and shows on our laptop). Next, I could expand the list of contraband to cell phones, clocks, cars, and eventually all electricity. I probably won't miss some of these things at all for 24 hours (the car), but some I cannot imagine living without. Embarrassingly, clocks are high on that list. So are coffee grinders. This is pretty telling about how I live my life and what I am a slave to. I think this experiment is going in the right direction.
So, what's an animal lover to do? Some vegetarians draw the line at eating anything with a face. So animal products like honey and milk would be ok, but they won't eat anything that could look you in the eye. I tried adopting this policy for Technology-free Day, and decided to eliminate anything with a “face” or screen. So, no computers, no TVs, no cell phones, but then I realized {gasp} that clocks would have to go too. Well that threw me into a panic.
I tried another approach: nothing with an on/off switch. Pretty straightforward. Again, computers, TVs, cell phones, but what about lights? Lamps have on/off switches. So do coffee grinders and stove burners. Does a key in a car count as an on/off switch? Hmm.
Perplexed, I turned to Judaism. Jews, as I mentioned previously, have been going “technology free” for hundreds of years on a weekly basis to rest and observe “Shabbat”. They have very specific rules for this stuff, and strictly forbid 39 different categories of work. It is also forbidden to get someone else to do the work for you, so even though you can't cook, you also can't just get take-out. Making fire is forbidden, and this rule has been adapted to the modern age to ban turning on lights and even starting cars, since the spark plug lights a fire in the engine.
I realized that like vegetarians, I would just have to draw the line somewhere. And that the line could move. I could start out by banning the biggest offenders: computers (which for us includes TV since we watch movies and shows on our laptop). Next, I could expand the list of contraband to cell phones, clocks, cars, and eventually all electricity. I probably won't miss some of these things at all for 24 hours (the car), but some I cannot imagine living without. Embarrassingly, clocks are high on that list. So are coffee grinders. This is pretty telling about how I live my life and what I am a slave to. I think this experiment is going in the right direction.
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