Life Offline

An e-mail about yet another online Lenten retreat caught my eye. 

Hosted by a well-known Catholic priest whose writing and speaking I enjoy, I knew it would be a good event. Not only that, but it was free!  The computer cursor hovered over the registration link as I thought about how incredible this opportunity was. Yet, before I clicked that button, I paused. The thought hit me, unbidden: I didn't actually want to participate in this online event. As great as it was, why would I carve out time to sit in front of a laptop when I was about to attend a daylong retreat with other people in my local area? 

We all know the value of in-person interactions.  As many of us experienced in 2020, we know, in the deepest part of our being, that watching someone on a screen, online, is not the same as being physically with that person. How many times have we participated in a video call with a loved one and desperately wished that we could reach through the screen and share a hug? 

We also know that internet technology provides amazing ways for us to connect with others. It provides a path for us to meet a variety of people and learn from them. It offers resources for enrichment and growth, especially if we live in an area with few of the resources that we desire. For example, if we live in a place where Catholics are few and retreats are unheard of--or if we are homebound--then an online retreat is a tremendous blessing. 

Being able to access countless resources and information online is a great gift, and I'm grateful for the ways in which the internet has helped me find tools to grow as a daughter of God, as a writer, and as a homemaker. From nalbinding tutorials to recipe websites to Church documents, the internet has aided my lifelong learning. 

However, it’s become so easy to live and pray and grow online that we struggle to live offline. 

It’s become so easy to listen to Catholic Celebrities who don't know us--and take their advice--that we fail to listen to our own bishops and pastors. 

It's become so easy to join groups online that we can forget to grow with other people in our neighborhoods and parish communities. 

It's become so easy to sit online and endlessly scan information and watch tutorials while never actually doing anything. I will be the first to admit that I have watched/read/listened to countless tutorials on raising chickens--but have I seriously taken decisive steps to try it out? Get back to me in ten years, and we'll see. 

I'm also discovering that life online enables perfectionist tendencies. Perhaps one of the reasons why we endlessly consume information without acting on it is due to our fear that we will fail. We convince ourselves that we haven't learned "enough" to do something perfectly the first time. We need to watch one more video, read one more article, participate in one more online conference before we will be ready to pursue our goal, whether it's baking a loaf of sourdough bread, publishing a book, or starting a design business. 

The well of knowledge online is endless. We plunge in, diving deeper and deeper, convinced that we must become an expert on a given topic. We don't want to fail or make mistakes, especially when we see glossy posts from other people online. We spend hours immersed in information without really learning anything, because we miss a crucial element: trying, failing, and exploring offline, with other people, face to face. And this can be really hard. 

When we're connecting with other people offline, we no longer have the protective barrier of technology. We can no longer hide behind a screen. If we stop watching bread tutorials and actually make bread, it may turn out badly--and the other people in our house will know. If we choose to attend that in-person retreat instead of an online option, we might wind up sitting at a table with people we don't know or don't connect with. It can feel so much safer and secure to hide behind a screen of relative anonymity online. 

Yet, if we never venture offline, we miss out on the opportunity to break free from the shackles of unhealthy perfectionism. We miss out on the chance to learn by trial-and-error as we toss together ingredients and hope for the best. We miss out on the joyful radiance of encountering Christ in each other, even when we don't share the same perspective or outlook. 

There is so much goodness in the gift of encountering and receiving the gift of each other, in person, face-to-face. Yes, there's messiness and annoying habits and scents that we may not enjoy, but all of these are part of life. Offline life is not like the sterile environment of the internet; it is messy and sometimes frustrating, but it's joyfully vibrant. 

I recently took my kids to a zoo and we discovered a 
section for birds of prey-it was so fun to see them and enjoy being
outside, in nature. 

Perhaps it’s hypocritical of me to write this on the internet. Instead of reading my ramblings, you could be planting a flower outside or reading a book. Yet, here you are, reading the words that I furiously type out as my baby naps. It’s truly an honor to know that people make time to read the blog posts and articles that I put together, especially when we often find our attention pulled into five different directions at once. It's truly a gift to connect with other people online and share thoughts and perspectives as we strive for greater holiness. 

More and more, though, I'm growing disenchanted with life online. I'm unsubscribing to e-mail newsletters and marketing services right and left as I try to minimize what lands in my inbox. I'm listening to fewer podcasts as I enjoy more silence. I'm blogging less as I spend my scarce writing time working through manuscript rewrites so that people will eventually be able to read my words offline, in physical books. I still enjoy writing online and sharing reflections and ideas that some people appreciate reading. I still enjoy listening to some online videos and podcasts. I still love and appreciate the community of the Catholic Writers Guild and the online conference they host each year. I still love sharing the stacks of books that I read, and trading reading recommendations with others. I don't plan to stop doing these things anytime soon; but I'm trying to integrate more silence in each day as I focus on living offline. Sometimes, instead of sitting and scrolling through food blogs of people I don't know, it's better to sit and respond to text messages I received a month ago!

A lot of the information and resource online can be extremely beneficial and enriching. Yet, I've been trying to become more attentive to how everything online impacts my offline life. If all the podcasts, conferences, retreats, tutorials, and food blogs simply fill our lives with more noise, if they harm our in-person relationships, or if they lead us to gossip, to brood over wrongdoings, or feed into our anger in unhealthy ways, do we need to step away? 

"And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one of your members than to have your whole body go into Gehenna." (Matt 5:30)

As we enter into Holy Week, let's incorporate a bit more silence into each day. Let's consider where we are spending our time, energy, and attention. Let's use internet resources as tools for our growth. But, let's also remember to live where God has placed us: offline, in environments with animals, plants, and other human persons made in God's image and likeness.