Abby Quillen

Freelance Content Marketing Writer and Editor

Technology

Dispatches from Shanghai

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My sister Columbine is studying in Shanghai this summer, and she’s been sending me dispatches about the city and culture. I think a lot about urban life, especially how we can create more liveable cities (a new urban habitat, if you will), so it’s fascinating to hear about life in a city of 24 million.

Columbine has traveled extensively in Europe and Latin America, but this is her first trip to Asia. She’s amazed by how clean and safe Shanghai feels:

I didn’t know what to expect from China and Shanghai. I have never been to a city of this size. I certainly have never lived in a city this size. I think I expected to be a bit disgusted, since most large cities have an element of filth. Walls near the train tracks will be painted with graffiti. Sirens will be heard at all hours of the day. Whiffs of open sewer will find your nose. Trash will be strewn about. Shanghai is nothing like that. It is quite clean. Much cleaner than any American city I’ve visited, including small cities like Denver and Portland, and it is much cleaner than New York. I have not heard one siren. I have not seen any graffiti. And the streets are consistently being swept by people in sage green uniforms. It is also the safest-feeling place I’ve ever been.

Another thing she consistently remarks on is how healthy the elderly residents are:

Every morning the parks are filled to the brim with old people doing calisthenics, tai chi, fan dancing, and walking. It brings tears to my eyes and makes me smile. There are parks every few blocks, as most people here live in shantis or apartments and they don’t have lawns or yards as we do in the States, or even shared gardens as you often see in Europe. There is something magical about seeing all of these old people enjoying one another’s company, all in incredibly good health. I have never been to a country where the old people were in such good health.

Chinese culture melds ancient traditions that go back thousands of years, like tai chi and Traditional Chinese Medicine, with cutting edge technology that far exceeds what we have in the U.S.:

The fastest train in the world connects Pudong Airport to downtown Shanghai. It is an electro-magnetic train which reaches speeds of 270 mph. It was dizzying as the landscape whizzed by. I kept wanting to see what China looked like, but it was flying by so fast that I couldn’t get much more than a quick glance. You go 20 miles in less than 8 minutes. It was absolutely incredible.

Have you visited or lived in Shanghai, or another part of China? I’d love to hear about it in the comments.

Striking a Balance With Technology

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When my sister spent a year studying abroad in Iceland in 1993, we had little contact with her. We spent a lot of money to call each other occasionally on a land line that hummed and cracked, and we wrote letters, which took weeks to make it from the Colorado mountains to her new home on the Arctic Circle.

That experience would be radically different today. We could email, text, or Facebook each other. My sister could blog. We could video chat with her.

That’s an astonishing transition when you think about it.

The technological progress we’ve seen in the last two decades – the Internet, digital cameras, mobile phones, streamed videos – is dizzying. I’m in unabashed love with so much of it. Even amidst the marketing and spam, some days Twitter feels like a giant free-form university with intelligent people from all sectors of life zipping information back and forth and bantering about ideas. I get giddy when I discover an interesting academic, thinker, or activist and find dozens of their interviews and lectures online. And the revolution that e-readers and tablets are bringing to publishing and academia is exhilarating.

This is an exciting time to be alive.

And yet, the amount of time we (and our children) spend interfacing with gadgets and screens makes me uneasy, and I know many people share my angst. Recently a blogger lamented that she’s contemplating ditching her iPhone, because it’s eating too much of her time, and dozens of her readers divulged that they’re feeling the same way.  The same week a Lifehacker post and a Harvard Business Review article warned that our smart phones might be dumbing us down. Then a large study came out, finding that one in three people feel envious, lonely, frustrated or angry when visiting Facebook.

Despite its connecting powers, our technology often seems to disconnect us. It can encourage us to ignore our family and friends to engage with a group of folks we hardly know. And it can swindle hours that we may have once spent in nature, or moving, reading, writing, or making art.

I imagine most people, like me, are constantly trying to find a balance with family, work, creativity, and the distracting allure of our gadgets and screens.

I try to ask myself questions from time to time. How much and what types of technology help me be present with my friends and family? Stay intellectually stimulated? Focus on the things that matter? Conversely, which activities and gadgets make me feel distracted and unhappy, steal my focus with my kids and my work, and distract me from the creative projects that make me feel more alive.

I’ve yet to find a perfect balance. But I’ve come up with a handful of ways to be more intentional about the way I spend my time, and that’s helped me  make peace with my angst about technology.  Here are a few of the tricks I’m using right now to try to let in the gifts of the information age, while keeping out the less than happy side effects that so often sneak in with them.

  • A digital sunset and a weekly digital sabbatical

We usually turn the computers and gadgets off around six, so we can eat together and wind down for bed. And we devote Sunday to family day. It’s usually a lazy day, with leisurely hikes, library trips, afternoon naps – and no computers. In other words, it’s everyone’s favorite day of the week, and it’s incredibly restorative.

  • Not-so-smart phones

The truth is, I don’t really need Google on the go, because most of the time I’m home near my trusty desktop. (Yes, desktop. It’s like those archaic days of the early 2000s around here.) So far, I’ve survived without apps and GPS. And while we’re out and about, I’m able to focus on these quickly disappearing days when my kids are little and say and do curious and hilarious things. I have a feeling I will have to renegotiate this one in the future, but for now my not-so-smart phone offers more than enough distraction.

  • A television-lite life

We have an old-fashioned TV that we hardly turn on, except for mid-afternoon episodes of Dora and Diego for four-year-old Ezra, who is a huge fan. (We’ve found a trick to allowing  a little bit of TV and avoiding the cajoling, begging, and tantrums that can come with it: we allow a certain amount at a certain time of the day, and we stick with PBS shows on DVD or Roku to skip advertisements.) As for the adults in the house, we enjoy a few shows, but we have little time to actually watch them in this season of our lives.

  • Pen and paper

This groundbreaking technology allows you to write or jot down notes, without allowing you to click over and watch cute kitten videos on Youtube. One trick I’ve learned: when you get the urge to Google something or message or email someone, write it down. During a designated computer time, scan your list and decide what you really need to attend to. This  practice can improve your focus and be a huge boon to your productivity.

  • Quiet

As my kids get older, I’ve found that background noise – radio, podcasts, or music – makes it difficult for me to be an engaged parent. I listen to a podcast for an hour a day, and we sometimes listen to music in the afternoons. Other than that, I shut off all the background noise when I’m at home with the kids, and I’m astounded by how much happier and focused that makes all of us.

  • Slow blogging and a social networking diet

Like its cousin Facebook, this blog can devour hours of my already spare work time. That’s why I’ve transitioned to a less frequent posting schedule (generally once  a week on Mondays). And although I read and reflect on and appreciate every single comment you leave in this space, I don’t always have the time to respond to each of them. Likewise, I only go on Facebook for a few minutes a few times a week. And I tweet four days a week for a half hour or less. I’m mostly okay with less blogging and social networking, because it means I get to spend more time in the here and now. And that feels like a good balance right now.

I’m curious, how do you feel about technology? Have you devised ways to be intentional with it? Have you found a good balance? I’d love to hear about it in the comments.

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12 Aha Moments in 2012

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At the end of 2010, I shared 10 magic moments when someone said or wrote something that surprised or inspired me. Moments that made me say, “aha.” Now, as we say so long to 2012, I have 12 more for you:

I unsubscribed from the clock. Dropped my watch right into the garbage. Shut off the glowing green-blue digital clocks that seem to piggyback on every appliance known to man – microwave, stove, VCR. … I’m less stressed. I don’t worry about how long things take or even bother considering how long they should take. … I’m no longer chained to the clock. I measure my life in heartbeats and years, the only significant units to me. – Steven Corona, Living Without Time

Plants, it turns out, possess a sensory vocabulary far wider than our perception of them as static, near-inanimate objects might suggest: They can smell their own fruits’ ripeness, distinguish between different touches, tell up from down, and retain information about past events; they “see” when you’re approaching them and even “know” whether you’re wearing a red or blue shirt; like us, they have unique genes that detect light and darkness to wind up their internal clock. – Maria Popova, What a Plant Knows

Micro-publishing means that every person is a publisher. It takes away the whole idea of “us” vs. “them” that comes part and parcel with indie publishing and establishes that there is only Us, all of the people in the world, and we are all publishers. – Christina Katz, “What is What Is Micro-Publishing? A Thorough Definition By Christina Katz”

Idleness is not just a vacation, an indulgence or a vice; it is as indispensable to the brain as vitamin D is to the body, and deprived of it we suffer a mental affliction as disfiguring as rickets. The space and quiet that idleness provides is a necessary condition for standing back from life and seeing it whole, for making unexpected connections and waiting for the wild summer lightning strikes of inspiration — it is, paradoxically, necessary to getting any work done. – Tim Kreider, “The Busy Trap,” New York Times

Pushing our children toward adulthood takes us (and them) away from seeing that each of us are whole people exactly as we are. A baby is not an unformed child, a child is not an ungrown adult, an elder is not an age-ruined version of a once younger self. … We don’t have to paddle away from the moment we live in toward some ideal age. Doing so doesn’t just wish away right now, it also condemns every other age we live in to be something less. – Laura Grace Weldon, What’s the Perfect Age?

Focus on your masterpiece. Whatever you focus on, you’ll create. Think your project is crappy? Then it will be crappy. Think you’ll get it done no matter the odds? Then you’ll finish it even if you get hit by a bus. – Joshua Fields Millburn, Create Your Masterpiece, a 16-Step Guide

So began my year of living the shareable life, which I chronicled on shareable.net. … I hadn’t thought my blog would make a difference, but I was wrong. My story was picked up by Fast Company, Sunset, and NBC Nightly News, reaching tens of millions of people with the message that sharing is both good for the soul and a savvy financial move. At the end of the day, I reaped the personal reward of sharing with my neighbors. And I have an extra $17,000 in my pocket. – Neal Gorenflo, How I saved $17,000 in one year by sharing

I remember hearing about a book called “How to Parent without Bribes, Threats and Punishments,” and I laughed because those were all my discipline tools, and I believed in them. But, 2 years later, I’m orbiting a more peaceful planet and making an occasional smooth landing.  … I still value compliance, but not the kind that comes from threats or promise of a reward, because in the long run, I want my children to be motivated to make choices from their intrinsic desire to add to the peace and harmony of our family (and the planet). – Rachel Turiel, orbiting a more peaceful planet

I learned a little trick while practicing meditation that helped me, not only with meditation, but with just about everything I do. I noticed I was reluctant to start the meditation, and paused to wonder why that is. What I noticed was a kind of tightness, in my chest and shoulders and neck, but also in my mind. … I chose to let go of the tightness. – Leo Babauta, The Little Trick to Make Any Moment Better

What if we stopped labeling our children, criticizing our children, fretting over our children, and instead just loved them unconditionally and let them be themselves? I have a theory about this: If we stop trying to change and mold our children and start loving them just the way they are then we have to extend the same courtesy to ourselves. – Jennifer Margulis, Mismatched: When Your Child’s Personality Clashes With Your Own

I looked in the other pocket. I looked in my bag. And then I remembered, with dull thud to the gut—I changed trousers before leaving my room. The Fitbit was back at the hotel, clipped to my jeans, motionless, recording nothing. … Part of me wanted to cab it back to the hotel. Cab it back and clip on the Fitbit and do the walk again. … Smiling, I looked out over a Paris glowing golden—caught in a long summer twilight—and enjoyed the day for what it was: a beautiful walk, existing only in my mind, to be forgotten, unrecorded and fleeting, just as it’s always been.” – Craig Mod, Paris and the Data Mind

Our children don’t need us to play with them all the time. It only seems like that because we keep running away from them. … Child development experts say preschoolers need one hour of undistracted play with a parent each day. … But this means one hour when you sit on the floor and don’t get up. You don’t leave to fold the laundry or start supper. You don’t abandon the game to do something more interesting or important. You don’t check your email or fiddle on your phone. And the game is one they choose, not something you think is worthwhile or educational for them.” – Karen Maezen Miller, momma time

 

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Automation Nation

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The supermarket near my house has five self check-out stations. Often one or two is down, and sometimes, you have to jab at the buttons on the  screen multiple times to get your choices to register. Regardless, a line for the automated cashiers usually snakes around the tabloids. When I go to this supermarket, I usually find myself waiting in this line and traipsing up to one of these self check-out stations.

But, recently, as I was poking repeatedly at the screen and listening to the computerized voice ask me about an unexpected item in the bagging area, I glimpsed a cashier a few aisles down. She was scanning a customer’s groceries, smiling, and making small talk with him. It looked like a far better experience than the one I was having. So why did I choose the machine?

I kind of enjoy scanning my own groceries. The beeping of the barcode reader and the jigsaw puzzle of packing my cloth bags reminds me of playing grocery store with my sister when we were kids. But did I also choose the self check-out because I wanted to avoid a human interaction? And if so, why?

A few days after my grocery store experience, I was at the library, where self check-out is now the only option. I heaved a pile of picture books onto the counter, slid one across the radio frequency antenna, and waited for it to register on the screen, before sliding the next one. Meanwhile I tried to keep my two-year-old son from darting outside, yanking on the fire alarm, or pulling down his pants. I felt a little bit like a contortionist.

After I’d piled all of my books into my tote bag and herded my son toward the exit, the security gate rang – a common experience. The one person on duty behind the desk strode over, looked over my receipt, and counted my books. “Looks good,” he said, with a smile. “The machine must have missed one. Happens all the time.”

That’s when I remembered how the library used to be. Someone else checked out our books for us. Are the machines doing a better job than those people did? That hasn’t been my experience.

I’m not anti-technology. I use a computer nearly every day. I have a cell phone. I’m on Facebook. I blog and tweet. And I don’t want libraries – or grocery stores – to return to the days of Carnegie. Years ago I worked in a library before it transitioned to a computerized card catalog, and every night, we manually alphabetized towering stacks of cards. Let there be no doubt, computers are far better and faster than humans at alphabetizing six dozen titles starting with The Berenstein Bears and…. I’d guess they’re also helpful for keeping track of grocery store inventory.

But I’m not convinced that computers are better at face-to-face customer service.

And what are we losing? In an age when jobs are scarce, many of us are complicit in making them scarcer when we choose machines over people, even when the machines are less effective. At my local library, the people who once checked out books – some of whom had worked in the organization for decades – recently had their hours cut by 20 percent. A friend of mine in that position had to foreclose on her house, because she could no longer afford the mortgage.

And what are the social costs when we increasingly choose to disconnect from human interactions? In the U.S., social isolation is on the rise. In a 2006 study, 25 percent of Americans said they have no one with whom they can discuss their personal troubles. That’s double the number who said the same thing in 1985. And we know that for many people, social connections are the difference between life and death. Researchers from Brigham Young University recently reviewed 148 studies and found that people with strong social ties have a 50 percent lower risk of dying over a given period than those with fewer social connections.

Dr. Stephen S. Ilardi, a clinical phsychology professor at the University of Kansas points out that depression rates around the turn of the century were almost zero, but today more than 23 percent of Americans experience major depression during their lifetimes. Ilardi partly blames our growing social isolation. “I believe it’s time that we start living as Americans as if relationships are the things that matter to us the most…” he said in a recent interview.

I agree. And when so many are sounding an alarm that Facebook and other social networking sites may make us lonelier, because we’re not connecting face-to-face, perhaps it’s time to look at our ubiquitous replacement of customer-service representatives with machines. At least we can use social networking  to connect with each other. Automation’s only purpose is to disconnect us.

So from now on, I think I’ll be choosing the cashier’s line. I wish I could still do that at the library.

What do you think? Do you use self check-out? Do the social implications of replacing customer service representatives with machines concern you?

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Appropriate Technology

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I recently visited Aprovecho, a 40-acre non-profit center about 15 miles south of where I live. They research green skills and sustainable living practices. They also tend a 1.5 acre garden; sustainably manage 23 acres of forest; and teach workshops in subjects like green building, permaculture, rainwater harvesting, and eating a 100-mile diet.

In addition, they develop something called Appropriate Technology (AT). On their website they define AT as devices that are “energy-efficient, nonpolluting, and renewable” that are made from “available materials, many of them recycled”.

Aprovecho was founded in 1979 by a group of back-to-the-land hippies interested in a specific type of AT: stove design. They wanted to develop affordable, fuel-efficient cooking stoves for use in the third world. And they developed something called the rocket stove, which is designed to use a small amount of wood, fully combust it, and keep smoke out of the house.

In the last thirty years, the Aprovecho staff has done over 100 stove projects in 60 different countries. Last year Prince Charles awarded them with the prestigious Ashden Award for one of their designs.

The group of people specializing in stove work recently moved off the Aprovecho campus and spun off into a separate non-profit. But they left behind an outdoor kitchen equipped with all different types of efficient cooking stoves. One of them is called a haybox. It’s a box that is so tightly insulated that you can bring rice and beans to a boil, stick the pot inside the box, and in several hours, the rice and beans will cook, with no extra energy expended.

After visiting Aprovecho and learning about their efficient cooking stoves, as well as their solar showers and composting toilets, I’ve been thinking that it would be fairly easy for more people to switch to at least somewhat more appropriate technologies, like:

  • regular toothbrushes instead of electric toothbrushes.
  • mixing spoons instead of electric mixers
  • clotheslines instead of dryers
  • bicycles instead of cars (at least for shorter trips)

I think I’ll stick with my flush toilet and electric range for now. But I’m a lot more mindful that the most high-tech tool is not always the best one for the job.

What types of Appropriate Technology do you use? In what ways do you try to conserve energy?

Stranded by Technology

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Recently an older couple’s GPS system guided them down a remote, impassable forest road on their way from Portland to Reno. They ended up stranded in eastern Oregon in a foot and a half of snow for three days.

I also feel let down by technology this week. As I mentioned in a recent post, my Internet connection was down for over a week. Last Wednesday I was thrilled to finally have it up again, almost giddy.

Then my computer crashed.

The infamous Windows “blue screen of death” popped up … then blackness. I restarted the computer and was greeted by: “Missing Operating System.”

We rushed the computer to some local computer wizards, and we’re hoping they’ll be able to recover some of what we lost. (No, we did not have everything backed up.)

Of course, I vow to be better about backing up my hard drive from now on, but this whole dreadful episode left me with a few other things too:

  • Clear priorities

The first thing I thought of when the blue screen popped up wasn’t my work, or even the two novels I’ve written and rewritten and rewritten again, which resided there on that crashing hard drive…* It was an adorable series of photos of my son in a terry-cloth frog robe that I took when he was about nine months old. A lot of the photos of our son are stored in other places. But the frog-robe photos and quite a few others will be lost forever if those computer wizards can’t recover them, and that’s heart breaking.

On the other hand, the pictures I still have of my son have suddenly taken on a lot more meaning, and I have new plans to organize them into albums.

(*Yes, I backed up those novels, although I may have lost some more recent edits.)

  • Mission: downsize the data.

Part of the reason I was not as good at backing up my hard drive as I should have been is because there was just so much data on there — non-essential documents, blurry photos, outdated information, etc.

I lost some things I wish I still had. But what surprises me is that I also feel a bit lighter without all the junk that was on there. I’m on a new mission to keep my hard drive from becoming a dumping ground again – to only keep data that’s meaningful, to delete all those blurry photos, and to regularly purge outdated files.

  • Mission: Organize the data

Starting afresh has some other benefits. I’m already being much more systematic about the way I store my computer files, and I plan to keep it that way.

This whole episode has made me realize that the stuff contained in my computer files is not that different from the other stuff in my life. It can be tempting to keep everything, since there are so many more gigabytes of space to store it in these days. But virtual baggage is still baggage.

I’m ready to pare down, to simplify, and to organize.

(This post is for Steady Mom’s Thirty Minute Blog Challenge.)