HAD BEEN WORKING at my computer a couple of days ago for quite
a long stretch when I decided to go outside for a walk around
the neighborhood. Exercise and fresh air, even in the winter, are
more a necessity than a luxury, according to many folks. As I
walked out of our court, I noticed for the first time in many
years that when I looked at the trees, bare against the late afternoon
sky, the ones in the background appeared to move at a different
rate than the trees in the foreground. I had rediscovered depth.
"(Technology) deals with only
the trivialities of life, and leaves completely untouched the
depths of it."
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I surmised that my long period at the computer screen had been
all two-dimensional, and that the outdoors with its three dimensions
was therefore a surprise to the eye. But it made me consider that
perhaps our technology in general, also, is only two-dimensional,
like a flat bar chart on a piece of paper. It deals with only
the trivialities of life, and leaves completely untouched the
depths of it.
How easy it is to build a factory or an airplane or a bridge,
when you compare this with the birth of a baby or the discovery
of a new way of life. The first requires a lot of effort, planning,
manipulation of people and funds, and so forth--yet it's quite
easy once the details are attended to. But the deeper marvels
of life are so subtle that no amount of effort, planning, or manipulation
can bring them about or put them to rest (depending on their quality).
They flow naturally and must be dealt with naturally.
No foolproof method has been developed for creating a new human
being. It happens when it happens. No one can prescribe a new
way of life for another person and make it work--growth has to
come from inside the other person, as the result of pain, insight,
perception, fear, and love. These changes come about like the
movement of the slower trees in the background. So simple, so
natural, and yet so profound.
We may play with our technology, work with it, live with it, and
seem to grow with it, but the real growth in our lives happens
when we put aside our clever braininess and walk outside into
the profundities of a late winter afternoon.