I spent the evening in San Francisco the other day at my
son’s concert. Hadn’t been back
there in awhile. I’ve been living
in the mountains for about the past six years. I do come down out of the mountains fairly regularly, so
it’s not as if I’m completely out of touch with the greater culture going on in
our world. I also do read, listen
to the radio, and watch television.
And If I were to guess, I’d probably say I’m at least as conscious of
our world as the next guy, and probably more so than most. Being retired, I have time on my hands
to stay in touch. That’s one of
the beauties of my circumstances.
Now, I’m not retired in the purest sense of the word. I spend a great deal of time writing
books, music, and recording albums of my original songs. But I am retired from the daily hustle-bustle of the work-a-day world. And I like that part of
retirement. I have lots of time on
my hands to choose what I want to do on a particular day, in a particular week
or month, etc. I am also alone
quite often. It is not something I
ever dread, but quite the contrary, it is something that I relish. I have time away from distraction, from
noise and visual clutter, and from people. It is valuable time.
I never had to learn to be alone. I have always coveted alone time. It is something that is important to me; to every human
being actually, whether they realize it or not. Aloneness allows the opportunity for self-reflection. It allows time for understanding and
adjustment of who I am; my outlook, my behavior, my sense of my own
equilibrium, my degree of self-acceptance or dissatisfaction. It allows time to listen to, and to
actually hear, my own conscience, the still small voice within me; the one
voice that is critical for every human being to hear. Some would say the voice of God. I would not trade my alone time for all the wealth in the
world. It is the one thing that
will give birth to the only kind of wealth that really matters.
I have a cell phone like almost everybody else these
days. I make calls, text, check
email, send photos etc. But when
I’m out in the world I observe, and participate in, that world to one degree or
another. Where I am not (when I’m out in that world) is on my phone. As necessary, yes, but not because of
my own anxiety, for my own entertainment, or for a pervasive need just to not
be alone. Invariably, the more
connected I would become, the more of myself I would lose.
What I have been observing most everywhere (and particularly
the other night in San Francisco because it was so much more exaggerated than
in many other places) is the dearth of alone time that people have these
days. Not by a deluge of
inadvertent circumstances, but by choice.
Yes, by choice. And I am
sad about it. Very sad. I noticed people alone, and in groups,
being connected to others outside of their own immediate circumstances. Everybody was on their phones, talking,
texting, checking emails, taking pictures of their surroundings, sending
pictures of their surroundings, taking selfies, playing games; taking
themselves out of their own present to be somewhere else, to be in another
reality. What they were not doing
is . . . . . observing their own surroundings, observing others, talking to
other people, even their own friends.
I saw groups of five or six people congregated on the sidewalk in a
little circle, but nobody was talking to each other. Everyone was on the phone. I saw people waiting in line to get into a club. They were on the phone. I saw people in the windows of restaurants
and café’s. They were on the
phone. I saw loners waiting for a
cab, or a bus. They were on their
phones. I saw people on their
phones while crossing busy streets, never even looking where they were going,
or checking to see if a car was coming.
I even saw a father pushing an infant in a very small wobbly stroller
through an intersection with cars coming from three different directions; a
very large and dangerous intersection, even for somebody paying attention. I watched the man very closely. He never once, not once, looked up from
texting on his phone. I wanted to
snatch the baby up and give him to someone more conscious of the child’s
wellbeing. More conscious
period. Obviously I couldn’t.
We’re no longer alone.
Yes, nobody has to be alone anymore. And very few will choose to be. They choose to always be connected. I
pity them. They will never
know the beauty of being alone.
They will never know themselves; truly know themselves. They will never know self-reflection,
as would be necessary for the art and practice of pragmatic or objective
thinking. At least not like would
be possible otherwise. It’s a
shame that the future world will be ruled by the judgment and guidance of
people who are stunted, only partially developed, as deep as a puddle rather
than a well.
For this I grieve.
