This morning, I deleted Twitter and Facebook from everywhere but my computer. Off of my phone that goes with me everywhere. Off my iPad, which I check every time I walk by where it usually sits on a table in the kitchen. I have pushed myself back technologically-speaking about ten years, to that time when you actually had to turn on your computer to open up the gaping portals that allow the internet to flow into our lives.
I’m not quitting Facebook or Twitter. I’m not deleting my accounts. I’m not disappearing. I’ll still be around. I’m just shifting gears a bit. Experimenting with a different way of being in the world for a while. I have no idea how it will go, but I want to be a little more present in the world. I want, like a character in my friend Ellen’s new book, to work on my talent for noticing things, and for noticing something besides how many likes, shares or retweets I have. I want to become a noticer.
Maybe it’ll all come to naught. But this morning, I stood in my kitchen drinking my morning cup of tea. Instead of looking down at my iPad, I looked out the window and saw a house finch hopping around in the churchyard next door. Oh, that’s probably the one I see in the tree next to the upstairs window all the time, I thought. Then I went upstairs to put some clothes away and heard a mighty chirping from outside the window. I can’t see the house finch’s nest, but I know it’s there. I have to have heard the noise before. I knew the finch was always in the tree. On some level, I knew the nest was there. I just didn’t notice.