The Art of Solitude

The hard drive in my Dell laptop died a few weeks ago.  After 14 days without access to CNN Online and Microsoft Flight Simulator 2007, I now wish I could arrange a wake for all the electronic toys in my home including my TV—correction—especially my TV—and practice The Art of Solitude.

 

As I stood in The Geek Squad repair line at Best Buy to drop off my dead electronic beast, I was overcome by the Las Vegas-sounding sights and sounds of the latest video and audio technology.  From garage-sized plasma screen televisions bigger than my first apartment to military video games that eerily resemble the streets of Fallujah, I couldn’t help but wonder if these happiness-producing gadgets were really making anybody… well… happy.

 

As we increasingly trade play stations for Steinbeck, and our high definition televisions for Bach, I think of the writer Anthony Storr who posited that solitude was the essential ingredient to imagination.  He mentioned how artisans and great thinkers intentionally sought solitude to develop their craft.  The English historian Edward Gibbon considered solitude, “The school of genius.”   As I approach my 43rd birthday and my three young children grow older, I find myself desiring that my family and I follow the tunes of Storr and Gibbon instead of the tunes of Disney Network and FoxNewsOnline. 

 

I don’t dislike technology—really.  A Nokia phone hangs from my leather belt like most other Americans—especially when camping in the woods or climbing a “14er.”  I do however believe, that we have entered new territory when we're no longer appalled witnessing our fellow travelers in the restroom at the airport  maintain conversation on their Blackberries while…um..completing their business.  I realize time management gurus may applaud this multi-tasking behavior but I wonder if our nation will have to replace fluoride with Ritalin in the drinking water if even the restroom is a place devoid of solitude.

 

While running the Denver Rock n Roll Marathon last Fall, I noticed more than just a few runners who appeared to have been infected with the technology bug.  The “less is more” running gear list of shorts, shoes, and a singlet has been replaced with a “more is more” gear list that now includes a heart-rate monitor, a 900-song capacity iPOD and a Garvin Global Positioning Satellite device to calculate average speed, distance, and altitude with tallied results all completely downloadable to ones laptop for critical analysis.  George Sheehan, the great writer, physician, marathon runner, and arguably one of the most important figures to popularize running said of his solitary runs: “I am searching for the meaning within my experiences.  In that hour (of running) devoid of distraction, when the world is on hold, I can focus on the troubles and joys of becoming myself and arrive at a sort of peace.”  I wonder if Dr. Sheehan would have had found the inspiration to find his words  that launched the great running boom in America had he begun his morning runs with The Fugees blaring through his iPOD.

 

I just received a call from Agent Smith at The Geek Squad informing me that my laptop is breathing again and is ready for my immediate pick-up.  As I drive to the store, I reflect on the extra games of Sorry and Candy Land I have played with my kids and how much more hopeful for the future I feel from not being constantly logged on to WSJ.com or CNBConline.  As I turn off the ignition, I think.  And then I think some more.  I can always pick up the laptop next weekend.  It’s time for another game of Candy Land.   

AMJ