Lessons in Non-Attachment (Compliments of RIM)
After 27 hours, plus or minus a few minutes–but who is counting–service was restored to my Blackberry this morning. The reason I had a Blackberry instead of an IPhone in the first instance was because I preferred CREDO (which donates a percentage of profits to causes I support) instead of giving money to political candidates I oppose as do Verizon and AT&T. CREDO now has Android-based phones, which offer all sorts of exciting features that are really quite mind-boggling, if I stop to think about it. I have never been one, though, to give up something that still works fine, just because I could get something newer and more exciting.
It is interesting to see the articles and comments on the internet about the worldwide Blackberry outage. Much is being said about how this outage will tip users over the edge and send them out to buy another phone because of outrage because of the loss of service. Others note their attachment to the Blackberry and say they will get over the outage because of their attachment. Still others note that doing without email on one’s phone for a day or two is just not a big deal, and they, on their high horses, post mocking comments at the crackberry addicts.
I most certainly noticed how accustomed I am to sending and receiving communications with my handheld when I didn’t have it for a day not by my choice. My other computers (plural is not a typo) were readily available, so it was no big deal. If I were to lose service when on the road and expecting to meet other people with whom I had not made prior specific arrangement, as is the case for tomorrow and the coming weekend, I would have had to make some shifts. It would have been annoying, though, and would not have felt like the end of the world or a cause for outrage (there are just too many other things more worthy of outrage).
The episode did leave me thinking about our dependence on technology and how that dependence has shifted both for the good and bad how we relate to our family and friends and the tens of millions with whom we are connected in the ether; how we are attached to our habits and our expected ways things should work, and whether we get stirred up when things don’t go according to plan, desire, or expectations; and how a steady practice of non-attachment can help us open to make the best of things.
Yes, I looked at the latest phones offer out of curiosity, but no, I won’t be getting one just yet. My three-year old BB is working just fine for now.
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.
Shortly after I took this picture, a young couple came and sat down in the two seats in the photo, which are at the back of the bus — they were the only seats together. The couple just sat down quietly and held hands; they weren’t even talking. The woman in the corner immediately sat upright and began cursing at them. She threatened them with calling the police because they were harassing her by following her. The bus driver, who was having a hard enough time dealing with cars cutting in and out of lanes in the stop and go traffic jam created by the Marine Corps Marathon street closings, advised her to calm down. She got louder and louder. The woman in front of me kept turning around to stare. I sat quietly, trying to send soothing energy. The bus driver suggested to the woman that the police were located just around the corner. He said he’d stop so that she could go get the police. “No, no,” she cried, “we are almost at my stop. I’ll be quiet,” and she became completely still and quiet. At the next stop, she stayed on and a few other people got off, so that the couple was able to find a seat elsewhere on the bus. For the rest of the trip, even with people standing, these three seats stayed open. Later, I went up front to ask the driver what exactly was the route for the marathon detour. It turned out to be a good detour for where I was going. I commended the driver on how quickly he calmed down the woman, acknowledging what a challenge it is to be a metrobus driver. He obviously appreciated my simple gesture (mostly people just criticize bus drivers) and shared a few recent stories. When I got off, I thanked him and wished him a good day.