It took some effort, but I broke away from doomscrolling and picked up a book yesterday. I’d already made a start but stopped for some reason. Now I’m back and in the story. But my concentration has weakened, and the phone always beckons. I may have to start deleting apps, although that feels a tad extreme. After all, I’m an adult with a brain, so I should be able to self-direct.
Besides, I like books. They’ve always been my refuge since I discovered them as a child thanks to The Book of Knowledge the Children’s Encyclopedia with its Reader’s Digest versions of famous books, and another series called We Were There published in the 50s. That was followed by two years in a high school seminary with an English teaching priest named Father Caraluzza, where I met Salinger, Hemingway, and Fitzgerald. Then college came along with another suite of great teachers where I met Dickens and Eliot in a serious way, and then life where I worked for a publisher and attended the American Booksellers Association meeting every year.
In the end, I think getting back to books and avoiding the flickering temptation of my phone may play an important role in helping me slow down and feel less antsy overall. I believe I’ve spent enough time rushing through life. At this stage I really ought to be into the art of savoring, which should be done with intention and attention. Because seeing is more involved than simply looking and it’s where you find the real treasures in life.
