

On the occasion of my fortieth
birthday, my handsome husband surprised me with two tickets for a five day
Caribbean cruise. The months leading up to our frolic in the sun were filled
with eager anticipation. I thumbed through the colourful brochures from our
travel agent repeatedly and read each promise of exotic adventure with
childlike enthusiasm.
As the day of our departure grew near, a fidgety
thought began to wiggle its way to the forefront of my mind. I was going to be
incommunicado with the outside world for five full days. Like a growing
majority of the population, I am tied to technology. My daily commute on the
electronic super-highway allows me to communicate across thousands of miles
without drowning in long distance charges. It gives me control of which
up-to-the-minute news pieces and noteworthy subjects I want to read and offers
the information continuously throughout the day and night. Instant access to a
wealth of worldwide business data sits at my fingertips. Electronic
communication dissolves all borders and distance.
On D-day, I put the
dust cover on my desktop computer, packed a book instead of my laptop and left
the house feeling like I had an appendage missing. My husband, who has an
aversion for highways that don't grip the solid rubber of a tire, tried to look
sympathetic. But the expression on his face leaned more toward pity.
The
cruise ship loomed large as we approached the dock. Soon, we were swept up in
the bustle of getting boarded and settled into our room. Once the monstrous
ship was underway, we stood on our private balcony and waved goodbye to solid
land. By nightfall, we had 'oohed' and 'aahed' our way through each luxurious
level of the ship.
Mesmerized by the lapping of the waves against the
side of the boat and the glow of the moon reflecting off the water, I stood on
our balcony till the wee hours of the morning. A shift in the way I perceived
the world began to take place. The realization of the minuscule amount of space
I actually took up on this planet, dawned with great magnitude.
By
taking advantage of the instantaneous wonders of technology, my view of the
world had become distorted. The ease of sending and receiving information
across whole continents in less time than it took to sneeze and bless myself,
made the earth feel quite small. Standing in the face of the vast sky and the
endless expanse of the ocean repaired my faulty perception. I spent more time
on that balcony than anywhere else, for the duration of our
trip.
Slowly, the importance of my modern lifestyle slipped away. The
movement of the water, the motion of the stars and the beating of my heart fell
into a familiar rhythm. Childhood memories rushed in to greet me. The little
girl who used to gaze up at the stars and ponder the mysteries of the universe
in earnest, stared out from my eyes once more. For the first time in a very
long time, my mind was free of noise, no television, no radio, no outside
opinions and no words on my computer screen. I could hear the voice of my own
true thoughts.
What I owned and what I did with my possessions was of
little significance, when the only thing standing between heaven and earth, was
me.
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 © 1999 Terri McPherson Windsor, Ontario,
Canada terri@wisehearts.com
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