All the Noise, Noise, Noise, Noise

{Did you like that Dr. Seuss reference? It's his birthday.}

For months now, my phone has been making less and less noise. My original smartphone. The one that couldn't hold the Facebook apps or any multiple of a dozen pictures. A few weeks ago, it quit making noise all together. No ringing. No buzzing. Nothing. 

As you might imagine, a phone that makes no noise is not good for communication, but I do love silence. LOVE IT. Communication? Meh. (Not really, I cherish long talks with friends. It's the day to day blather that gets me down.) Add ambivalence to my stubborn streak and my righteous insistence that phones should last for at least ten years, and you get me in a state of foot stamping commitment to NOT buy a new phone. Ever. Not ever. Never. 

But then, significant call and text misses were happening. And, last week, I didn't get to read the text that said, "Leave your shoes on and come downstairs. The gorillas still have ears," (autocorrect for something to the effect of 'the girls are still eating', I do believe) and laugh at it in real time. Real life, real time comedy being the priority that it is, I ordered a new phone the very next day. The dealiest of deals. The closest to free I could find, because I am no techie, and any phone that rang, beeped, or vibrated would be an improvement.  

Then it came (so fast), and I said goodbye to old Not-so-Trusty, which was strangely emotional. Things kind of sort of transferred correctly. I got the apps I didn't have room for on my old phone, and then it started.

Noise. 

So. Much. Noise.

It will not be quiet. I suddenly feel so needed in such bad ways. As I have sat here typing it has beeped, buzzed, or bling-blonged no less than eight times, and I am not taking my time with this post. I assume I could turn all these bleeps off, but then I'm back where I was....silent communicator missing all the things. 

There are some beautiful perks, like the meditation app I installed that blocks the bleeps while I'm meditating, and the gratitude journaling app that didn't fit on my old phone. The irony of mindfulness apps on the hunk of mindless machinery is not escaping me, but this is the modern day zen-gal dilemma, is it not? Be connected to people in ways that are fun, intrusive, sometimes infuriating, and occassionally deeply meaningful--or party like it's 1999.

I know there are many middle points between those two extremes, and I'm finding my new spot in the world of post-postmodern connectivity. I just can't help wishing that my phone would tell me useful things--like that my lunch is turning to char in the toaster oven, not developing a nice caramelized crisp, which is what my nose thought was happening. Instead, my phone just buzzed to tell me that Pinterest has ten new ideas for my hair. 

I love hair pins as much as the next girl, but I'm not sure that was buzz-worthy information. I'm not sure that merited a look at the phone, which leads to a click on the phone, which leads to 5 minutes on the phone that I'll never get back. 

Of course, I'm going to be exploring notifications on my phone apps, and toning them down (do I really need to know when every single email comes through? No), but the point is that this has me thinking about noise and distractions in general. Anything can be a distraction. Even making the bed can be a distraction if it's not where your energy belongs at that moment. How many times have I noticed that the plants need some grooming, or that the ceiling fan is dusty when I'm working through a tough transitional chapter in a manuscript? 

This year has really been demanding that I stop dividing my attention.  I must dole out my energy and fill my cup intentionally. It is the only way to build the life I want. I know this. I've known this. It's a practice. It's simple to commit to and even easier to let slide. Things had gotten haphazard for a while there. And by a while, I mean going on three years.

So, I'm working my way back into mindfulness, and along comes this new phone all noisy and determined to be my bodily extension. Well, you've got something coming Samsung Galaxy old discount model--I have self discipline. I was born before the internet era took it's first baby steps. I spent nearly the entire decade of the 90s writing letters on paper and actually talking to people, and I liked it. You are a tool of expression over which I have control. The end.

And there is the nugget, the reminder I'm getting from this mini-machine and this year in general. Pretty much everything we apply our energy to is a tool of expression. Everything we build, all of our actions, words, thoughts, adding up to one projection of self into the world.  Online or in real life, we're in charge of what we're putting out there and what we're taking in. I am in charge of me.

The dual-disciplines of devotion and focus are tools of liberation. They show us our natural boundaries, and insist that we keep them well tended. So, I'm off to turn down the noise on this phone and meditate for clarity of purpose. Heaven knows my purpose is more important than my hair. ♥