When I posted the last blog entry, there were more comments regarding the blog on my Facebook Wall than here. I feel that the comments were making some excellent points, and I wanted to respond to them.

David points toward manners rather than technology: “I don’t believe there has been a paradigm shift where communication is concerned. … where manners are concerned perhaps.” Carol suggests that the couple at the play might have avoided communicating with each other without the technology. My lovely Aunt Ellen noted the benefits of technology and her concerns with language use: “From the social side, I am much more in contact with people, people that I want to be in contact with, than ever before. The language that kids use, in speech and on FB, offends me though I keep telling myself ‘it’s only words!” In my lifetime (I’ll soon be 76) the way we communicate has totally changed. And it’s good, I think.”

Everyone seems to think that there is change—there doesn’t seem to be agreement about a paradigm shift.

I feel David has hit on something when he brings up manners. SRFW agrees, “I don’t answer my cell when I’m checking out at a store, only because there is a real live person in front of my; how rude!” I can imagine a world where technology doesn’t invade our real interactions with people. It’s a bit old fashion, but I feel that when I’m with someone, I want to give the person my attention. It’s involves manners, but also respect for others. It’s easy to put the phone on silence, turn off the computer and the hand held devices, and enjoy the company of people.

I wonder if the technology is affecting the behavior? We have new devices that make communication instant and demanding, but we don’t have accepted behavior to go with the change. Of course, we have individual behavior and choices.

In our fast paced world, we rush from one place to another, from one activity to another; we check email, answer voice mail, and deal with the everyday problems of living. We multitask. Our lives are full. Sometimes we feel we have to constantly be on the move, or we are living life at break pace speed.

Then we have a quiet moment, we are alone, and we feel lonely. In our plugged in state have we become ill mannered in the rush to complete everything? Have we become disconnected from the intimacy of human interaction? Has our attention span shortened so that we believe we have to be doing something all the time?

David wrote, “Texts are just notes across the playground in digital form.” Yes, I agree. I love the speed of email and the quick notes of keeping in touch on Facebook or the ability to communicate with my family and friends in ways that were impossible only a few years ago. All these things are amazing and wonderful. I value them.

But are they replacing face to face communication? And, this is what disturbs me: using technology in place of talking and communicating with someone sitting next to me. I like the feel of looking at the other person, see his mouth move, his eyes light up, his body language. Often these things communicate more than his spoken words. Then there is the tone of the voice, the inflection, and the subtle changes the voice makes to convey emotions. None of these things are present in the quick communiqués of digital media. I want to quote Orwell here, but I think I’ll save that for the next blog entry as this is already getting long.

Carol says that “the paradigm has shifted and there is no turning back.” I’ll go into this more when I bring Orwell into the discussion. But, when I was talking about a paradigm shift, I was thinking of our face-to-face communication being replaced with digital communication. I believe that Carol meant that digital communication was here to stay, to which I agree. However, a trend toward replacing talking and interaction with texting or emailing is where my concern is.

What if the couple at the play weren’t trying to avoid communicating, but rather they were using technology as their means of communicating? I’m beginning to see this behavior repeated over and over. That the new technology is marvelous and wonderful in many ways is a given, but I also hear a growing complaint that people feel isolated and alone or that people are addicted to email, Facebook, and other virtual means of communicating. What does it mean when we are with people but preoccupied with what’s posted on Facebook, what emails we’ve received, or when we are with someone while fighting the urge to check our text messages, or to reply to our text messages, or email, or your device of choice. Our cell phones, as wonderful as they are, often control our lives.

In The Tempest, Prospero reacts with disdain and perhaps sarcasm to Miranda’s observation that “a brave new world” has come into her life. I’m wondering what our brave new world holds?

However, having said those things, I recall last summer when a group of us went to see the play Our Town. The play reminded us to listen to each other, to put aside the business of life and give our attention to the people in our lives. After all, at the end of the play, we are reminded how very short life is, how quickly someone we love can be snatched from us, and how easy it is to let the moments we could be together and connect slip by. The women in the play were more concerned about cooking and cleaning than really seeing, hearing, and communicating with their children and husbands; the men more concerned with their jobs. The play reminded me that even at the turn of the 20^th century, when life was slower and our digital technology hadn’t been invented, people were missing the opportunities to connect.

Perhaps this is an age old issue? And, as you can probably tell, I feel conflicted and confused, floating without a conclusion—a very post-modern feeling.

Last year, my oldest daughter told me about two teenagers who were out on what she assumed was a date. They sat next to each other, not talking but texting from their phones. Shortly after our conversation, I was at a birthday party for my friend’s daughter. The daughter was rather unhappy with her mother. As we were eating, the girl took out her phone and sent her mother several text messages, telling her how displeased and unhappy she was.

This new phenomena has even changed our language; the word text, a noun, is used as a verb; words are abbreviated, truncated, and generally abused–an Orwellian nightmare.

Last weekend, a friend and I went to see A Midsummer Night’s Dream. We had front row seats. I sat next to a couple, who looked as if they were in the early thirties. My friend and I discussed information in the program, commented on the stage, and chatted about various things before the play started. Sensory details surrounded us: interesting people, odd photos, the white cloth draped stage, and program details. As we conversed, I noticed that the couple next to me wasn’t talking. The man read the newspaper on his electronic device, and the woman texted someone and then surfed the net. The pre-play excitement passed by them. Neither looked at the program, spoke to each other, or bothered to glance at their surroundings. It was a social event, but they weren’t socializing. I made the assumption that they were “fighting.” However, that notion was dispelled when he tapped her on the shoulder and make a comment. She genuinely smiled. They exchanged a couple of sentences and went back to their devices. At intermission, when the rest of the audience was buzzing with talk about the first half of the play, they acted out a repeat performance of their technology isolation.

I just have one  question. What’s going on?

I’m not certain that I can answer that question. I love technology. My friends call me with computer questions. I have an iPad, a blog, a Facebook account, and I have text message ability on my phone and use it, but technology communication is never as satisfying as a conversation with someone on the other end of the phone. When I’m with someone, conversations are more exciting and fun than an email or text message. When I’m with people, I try to enjoy their company and want to hear what they are thinking and feeling. When I’m out, I like to take in my surroundings. I people watch. So, I don’t get burying your head and talking via writing in language that is often truncated when a person is sitting next to you.

We seem to have had a paradigm shift. I’m not certain it’s a good shift.

This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
–William Shakespeare, Hamlet

These are Polonius’s last words to his son Laertes. Polonius is often described as a wise man; however, I would argue that while his words are wise, he is sometimes comic relief, misunderstanding and misinterpreting people and events in the play. By the end of the play, Polonius, Laertes, Hamlet and nearly everyone else is dead. He gave good advice, but no one seemed to be listening.

Which brings me to this: how can we be true to ourselves?

This seems a much better question than Hamlet’s more famous “To be, or not to be?” Hamlet’s question emerges from a deep depression rather than an engagement with life. In our fast-paced, consumer-driven culture, we find ourselves stressed, bombarded with stimuli, overcommitted, bone-tired, and maybe even depressed. Reading that sentence is exhausting.

Yet, there are urgent matters, which should occupy our thoughts:

• how to find ways to true to self and thus true to others;

• how to love ourselves and thus love others;

• how to find peace;

• how to know ourselves.

I’m at a place in life where it seems imperative to seek answers. Sounds selfish, doesn’t it? But is it? If we are true to ourselves, then, according to Polonius, we will not be false to others. This seems similar to the paradox that to love others we must first love ourselves.

I don’t have answers. I’m a seeker.

However, I do have a wise daughter, who is studying Chinese medicine. She has me drinking a lovely herbal tea, which I brew from fresh herbs each day. She told me, “Take your tea outside. Sit on the patio and drink it in quietude, enjoying your surroundings. Feel the sunshine, the breeze.” At first, this was a chore for me because I had to stop and my mind flitted from one thing to another, but after a few days, my mind quieted down, and I began to look forward to tea time.

Looking inside and discovering who we are in this crazy, fast-paced world might seem impossible, but I’m hopeful; I’m aiming for the possible. I’m not the clothes I wear, my hair, my body, my face, the car I drive, or the house I live in. I’m something far more than all that. So are you. I’m looking for the me I seem to have lost in the busyness of living. I’m trying to be quiet and figure out who Cora Foerstner is.

I practice yoga most mornings and have learned to love the little ceremony at the end of practice. I put my hands together; I bow slightly—a nod of my head, almost as if in prayer—and I whisper “Namaste.” This little ritual after a very peaceful, relaxing experience makes me happy. Namaste is a salutation and recognition of the divinity within me and the divinity within the other person. I am saying something like, “The divinity in me salutes the divinity in you.” What would the world be like if we practiced looking within and seeing the divine in us and looking out and seeing the divine in others?

I’m wondering what you do to be true to yourself, to find peace and self-love?

My tea is ready. I’m heading for the patio, . . .