Of being “connected”.
It used to be a doorbell, a handshake, a cuppa, a chocolate biscuit and a conversation. Reading the nuances, asking the right question at the right time and knowing when to bask in the silence. This was how I connected.
But I do things differently in April 2020. My time is spent pushing buttons on the phone, clicking a mouse, typing on a keyboard, squinting at screen. My vocabulary has changed with a bunch of new words. Facetime, Skype, Duo, Zoom and Facebook to name but a few. This is how I try to connect with others, stay connected with others.
But scratch a little deeper friends. “Connected” is certainly our buzz word, but what exactly does it mean to be ‘connected’ in April in 2020? At best there is a visual image with a voice on a screen. But this is not conversation. The Duo /Face time/ Zoom thingy is clinical and clunky. The telephone diminishes a person to a disembodied voice. This is all I have and I am grateful that these things are at my disposal but… there is a part of me that wants to yell, quite loudly. “It’s not the same!”
So I turn once more to the Master for consolation, wisdom and advice. I look fervently for solace and a way forward. I recall and give thanks that the Master has connected himself to our humanity in not just its joy and sparkly bits, but also its blithering disappointment and bewilderment. Thats what Christmass was all about. I also recall a guy who willingly connected himself to our suffering and even our death, so that we might always be connected in a life and place where we can never be disconnected again.