Episode Summary
Ryan McAnnally-Linz reflects on his insights into presence and attention after spending two weeks away from screens.
I recently spent two weeks away from screens. No phone or tablet. No TV. No laptop. I was inspired largely by recent books like Johann Hari’s Stolen Focus and Anna Lembke’s Dopamine Nation, as well as my colleague Drew Collins’s longstanding interest in the moral and theological significance of attention. At bottom, though, I was driven by a gnawing sense that something in my own mind was not as it should be—that the quality of my attention had deteriorated in recent years and that screens had something to do with it.
It was a remarkable experience. My wonderfully patient family, friends, and colleagues know that I can gush about it ad nauseum. Here's one observation about the experience.
As I intentionally made myself less available to people and information—less reachable by them—I found myself dramatically more present to the people and information around me. This isn’t a particularly subtle or novel observation. Plenty of people have noted the distinction and tension between availability and presence. Indeed, I’m pretty sure I had had the thought before. Now, I’ve felt the difference viscerally.
Have you ever had the experience of being in a conversation at a party and noticing that the other person’s eyes keep darting over your shoulder, scanning the room for someone potentially more interesting, influential, or important to talk to? It turns out that under the influence of internet-connected tech I had become a constant low-grade version of that guy. It was liberating to be brought, by the absence of the technological tug to elsewhere, more truly into the presence of the people who happened, whether by planning or serendipity, to be right there with me. More importantly, that kind of presence was clearly more loving than the half-hearted here-ness that had become my default.
I wish I could get into the good sides of availability and how we might fruitfully make ourselves interruptible without sacrificing presence. For now, however, I’ll just leave you with a whole-hearted commendation of presence.
Consider: What cords of availability are keeping you from attending deeply to whatever and whoever are before and beside you today?
Transcript
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