I’ve been contemplating giving up Facebook for Lent.
That this thought should be so much of a wrestle or even an issue, that I think that I should blog about it says everything you probably need to know about Facebook (and Twitter, blogging). It’s an idol for me, something that has been created by the hands of men that has often taken the place of God.
There are two quotes which I took note of yesterday from The Oxford Dictionary of Modern Quotations that stuck in my mind
‘Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.’
That is one of Arthur C. Clarke’s three laws and maybe explains part of the problem. The www and internet seem magical. They dazzle you and bewilder you and seem so effective compared to a God who can appear silent and distant. Ask Google and an answer appears in milliseconds. Ask God and………
“In a consumer society there are inevitably two kinds of slaves: the prisoners of addiction and the prisoners of envy”
Facebook is a consumer product that thrives on us consuming it.
They want me to be addicted to their product, to consume it in larger quantities.
And all that consuming makes me envious.
I read what others are telling me (even if it’s only partially true), I see their sexy lives and how they can do things I can’t do because they have more money than me, or have more drive, or are more_____.
I become embittered that everyone else seems to be having an easier time of things than me and wish I was more like them.
There is also the truth that we become like what we worship.
How am I becoming more like digital technology?
Vinoth Ramachandra suggests:-
‘…it is not surprising that those who worship technology eventually develop machine like personalities: emotionally under-developed, shallow in their relationships, driven by a desire to control and quantify every situation, unable to appreciate beauty and value in anything outside the artificial’
I can see that from the way my eyes have changed.
The more I’ve been hypnotized by the computer screen over the years the harder it’s been to see beauty outdoors. It’s now more appealing to draw from the computer screen that to do doodle outdoors. It’s like the natural world is becoming the unnatural world and that really is unnatural.
This mightn’t apply to you of course. Some people might struggle with other addictions or be a slave to something else, technology mightn’t be the thing that is out of place in your life but it’s something that often doesn’t have it’s proper place in my life.
The last few years I have had a growing desire to become more connected to where my physical possessions actually came from. This computer I am typing on isn’t some magical device that appeared in Curry’s one day, but was mined and refined from raw material taken from the earths crust at one stage.
The device you are reading this on will contain copper. Where did the copper that makes you computing device come from? Was it mined in a way that respected the country it came from? What are the environmental effects of copper being mined? Where is it likely to have come from? Who benefits from the profits?
Perhaps these are the sorts of questions that are important to ask. Even before an ipad gets to the factory to be assembled there has been a vast enterprise of mining and refining of base metals. And this mining a refining doesn’t come cheaply. For instance, of the largest copper mines, Chuquicamata in Chile(the 2nd deepest man made hole on earth) used about 8 times the amount of water as Santiago the capital city. I’m not saying that figure is accurate but only that is a figure I heard mentioned in a video on YouTube.
So maybe a few more copper related postings in the next few days.
How much should you tell your computer? Tonight I don’t care.
Today was not a good day. I don’t want life to be like this, but it is. It just is.
My girl is upstairs waiting for sleep to come, I know she is hurting, hurting so bad and what can I do? I can do nothing except what I usually do, be me stubborn and angry or angry and stubborn in the wrong way about things I can’t control, probably tilting at windmills, big wind generating windmills that don’t actually generate electricity or spoil the countryside or use more energy to make than they produce in their entire lifetime and there is always something isn’t there?
There was an old man who lived a few houses down.
He walked slowly along the footpath, I assumed on his way to the pub each day. In my head he was called Jim, hop along Jim. He was lonely, or looked lonely. I knew he was lonely.
So what did I do?
I did nothing. As usual I did nothing.
‘and at once I knew I was not magnificent’
The police stood outside his house today, then the white overcoats and face mask and on the way back from the shops a stretcher. I didn’t look. H___ wanted me to ask, but I didn’t.
As usual I did nothing. So I don’t know. But I suspect and that fills me with sadness. He was so lonely. Did he have any family?
Worse, you knew this or guessed this and what did you do?
Then there is THE ISSUE.
It can’t be ignored. And Jesus and God and the Holy Spirit it’s killing us so can you cut me a bit of slack? Won’t us give us a break?
That’s unless of course you don’t really exist because it’s at times like this that it just seems so lonely and silent that I just can’t see it myself. I tried to imagine you standing in the corner of the bedroom last week, what you actually might have looked like. I couldn’t do it. It was an Obi Wan Kenobi type hologram, a wisp of mist in the corner when what you want is a real and physical, for real flesh and blood, suffering yet risen reality. What I got was a shady corner of my imagination.
Or a book, or books and letters and versions and exegesis and preachers and church on a Sunday morning with a pipe organ and red hymn book, blue ‘Glory to God’ and ‘The Source’ and cups of instant coffee in a soul less church hall with uncomfortable looking middle class people and mention (probably) of The Queen’s Jubilee.
This is what we get. Jesus, it’s hard to believe.
How much can you tell the computer?
This much. And there’s more. But nobody will care. It’s just lonely old men and the money you didn’t earn because you are you and there is no job that is good enough for you or suitable for you and you won’t go and work the production line of Moy Park chicken or something (because you’re busy tilting at big wind generating windmills or something) and the work you do do is not valued as work because it’s not paid and competition and better train harder or ask the right questions and answer to prove that you are the most suitable person for the opening.
There is the money you forgot to put in the bank to pay for the rent that you remember about on a Saturday night on a special Bank Holiday weekend meaning that you will probably be charged by greedy banker, or something like that. So you can work hard and still not get paid.
Thing is, stretchers and old men, banks, THE ISSUE, church of clay feet,me being me, entropy is not what I want defining and embittering me, or scaring me, I don’t want that.
Miracle please…stretcher me through a hole in roof, I can’t do it myself.