If I ruled the world, my world would be considerably less dependent on cell phones. Just think about how much our world depends on cell phones. If “Jupiterians” were to secretly invade tomorrow, all they would have to do is cut out the satellites and antennae, wait for the calls to drop, watch the masses of teenage girls rise up and rip civilization asunder as they search for the signal to reconnect with their boyfriends, and once the ashes settle, all the Jupiterians have to do is march in with a new cell phone service sent from their insect antennae and our world would be theirs.
And I for one will not allow my world to be so effortlessly conquered by Jupiterians.
How much do you freak out if you suddenly discover you have left a room without your cell phone? How scared are you of being disconnected from “the world” when your cell phone’s battery dies? How off balance do your pockets feel when you realize you have your wallet in the back pocket, keys in your right pocket, but no cell phone in your left pocket? Are you one of those people who hate it when a friend does not immediately return a text? Are you one of those people who check their cell phones in class, thinking you’re being sneaky even though every teacher knows you’re not looking that intently down at your notes?
The answer is yes. You are most likely the person I have just described.
Because for the majority of our lives, young Americans have been raised to treat cell phones like a fifth limb. In fact, I would bet if we had to choose between having a right leg or a cell phone, we would go with the cell phone. Obviously, your right leg cannot summon game footage, update your Facebook status on what your daily schedule is or pull up cute kitten videos on YouTube.
The world needs to cool down on cell phones. Constant communication has its good side, definitely, but it also has a dark side. Case in point, last week my father was in Arkansas for a business trip and staying at our cabin in North Little Rock but had not called my mother back in Maine before he went to sleep. And what did my mother do? Blow up his phone with calls, texts and voice mail wondering where he was. And then when he did not answer, what did she do? She blew up my phone with calls, texts and voice mail telling me to go check on my father at 10 p.m. So my sister and I drove down to North Little Rock, our hearts lodged in our throats for fear that we might find our father tied up by a serial killer.
Fortunately, he had just fallen asleep early and my mother had overreacted.
With the advent of constant communication, we rarely get a break from communication. When you lie down for a nap and nearly get snug in the REM cycle, your phone buzzes with a text, and even though it buzzes only once, the mystery of what the text contains gnaws at your curiosity until you open your eyes and grab the phone. Of course it turns out to be only an update text from MTV telling you to check out Snooki’s face without makeup.
So what do I say in regard to the constant communicating culture doped up on cell phones? I say spend a whole hour with it turned off. This can be a whole hour once a day or once a week. Allow yourself to disconnect and have a moment of complete, utter and real silence.
And then start talking to God, because you never have to worry about a bad signal with him.
