Over the summer, I was able to spend several weeks at my family’s lake house cabin, which is hidden in the tall pine trees outside of Shelton, WA. We are literally situated on “Lost Lake.” My great-grandparents set down on commandment when they built the cabin in 1928: No electronics allowed. My uncle remembers sneaking out to a 1957 Chevy to listen to the radio, risking a stern reprimand from the matriarch for a few minutes with Bill Haley. By the time I arrived, radio was allowed, but playing cards, swimming and reading was as high-tech as it went. The best memories of my childhood are from those weeks. I’m more highly attuned to songs that played, smells from the cabin and fond memories of my family than any other memories of my young life. Attention to the moment was the gift handed down from my great grandparents.

After over eighty years of this electronics ban, I found out through a Facebook update that technology has finally infiltrated the “Linger Longer Lodge.” Someone added DSL. We all gasped in horror but no one complained. For me, it was a lifeline, the ability to continue with school work, but to also enjoy afternoon swims. My best friend works from home and the line allowed her to enjoy relaxing weeks away. The technology may have felt contraband, but we were willing to embrace it so we could enjoy our mixed-use holidays.

But looking back at the weeks at the lake, I struggle to remember the time we spent. So much energy was sucked into my screen as I deciphered Twitter and read about metrics and emailed, with.. who, again? My friend even spent an entire day texting & facebooking rather than simply enjoying the peace and quiet of the lake. Not one single card game was played, as we struggled to disconnect from the electronic bracelet of connectivity. The lure of our daily life, the addiction to connection, the crunch of deadlines poured into what has been a lifelong oasis. At the end of the summer, rather than feeling refreshed and inspired, but as if I’d missed something crucial, something that was right in front of my face.

Social networking and hyper-connectivity is amazing and can do so much. But I think my great grandparents had it right. There is a time and place for everything. And no matter our profession or passion, we all need to allow ourselves a space for ‘nothing.’ Next year, I’m going back to the electronics embargo. I’ve been told that the world won’t end.

Same goes with the news. The same amount of crimes are taking place, but the difference is, I am finding out about them minute to minute, rather than in one daily dose. Knowing how neurotic I am (thanks Mom), I have to consciously remind myself to carve out only certain times during the day where I’ll let myself consume mainstream news.

I also agree with Maggie Jackson’s argument (from Karen Johnson’s Seattle Magazine article), that multitasking has created an ADD society. I couldn’t agree more. In fact, in the time that I’ve sat down to write this post, I have checked twitter twice, facebook three times, and looked at dresses online. Phew! It’s hard for me to concentrate with all of this digital eye candy. I have 100% seen the toll digital media has take on my attention span. I pride myself in being a good multi-tasker, however, even I can only handle so much at a time.

I fear that in a way, social media has actually made us less social. I see it around me, when I’m on the bus, and everyone’s heads are turned down staring at their handheld device. When I am around my little sisters, they barely turn their heads up to look at me, since they are glued to their iPhones. I feel myself being rude when I’m with my less digitally savvy family, and I’m busy emailing on my phone. I have to remind myself to put down the device, and be social – as in human being social.

Hanson, I like the concept of finding a moment to breathe by creating your “zen” moments. This is something I need to make more of a concerted effort to do daily. Whether it’s reading (a real book, not online), practicing yoga, cooking, or conversing with friends – I need to remind myself to take breaks from all things digital. When I do find that right balance between digital and offline, I’m confident that I’ll have more valuable experiences with both.

The idea that I am missing something – a great play, a better game – is beginning to ruin even the most asynchronous events in our culture – live sports. The idea of the paradox of choice, the more choice we have the less happy we are, is something I am believing in more and more. I have a stack of movies and books I want to enjoy, but feel that if I devote, egads, an hour to them I will be unconnected to something immediate and social and somehow better. Although I don’t text during movies, I understand the urge!

For two years I lived without cable or television reception and I did more activities, saw more movies and read more books. It was probably the most productive time of my life. And yet, the idea of disconnecting again seems absurd. For better or worse – I don’t really know.