Today at the beach I observed a young girl, 11ish, as she stood with her sequin studded cell phone. Glittering pink and silver, her one hand held it firm as she bent down to push sand with her free hand into the bucket with which her little brother was playing. Standing up once again, she walked into the water, her fingers maneuvering her phone, data likely scrolling across her screen. I suspect she didn’t want to miss a message from a friend. Maybe the friend was afar, or maybe her friend was just steps away on the sand as she texted her to come and join her in the water.
One thing was certain. She wasn’t really here at the beach.
Aware that my cell phone sat inches away in my backpack, I wondered why I didn’t leave it at home. I came to the beach with my daughter Natalie, looking forward to spending time together. My elder daughter was in New York with her boyfriend and his family. So who did I need to talk with from here to where they were at this moment? With the anticipation of talking to someone afar, could I really BE here at the beach? I had longed for this excursion all morning, all week in fact. My desire was now a reality. But was I really in the moment at the beach?
There is truth in the title of the book by Jon Kabat-Zinn, “Wherever You Go, There You Are.” But if you are gripping your cell phone anticipating the next call or text, are you really there when you get wherever you go?
The water beckoned. I turned off my phone.
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