Look at the Goddam Doves: Brain vs Technology

The other morning, I was passing the kitchen window and noticed two ringed-neck doves sitting on a bare tree branch. The dun-colored doves were illuminated by a liquid sun under a cerulean sky and set against a background lace of branches and twigs.

It was beautiful. I’d show you a picture except I don’t have one, and that’s the point. Or part of it.

The sight of these doves — in the midst of a stressful week — stopped me in my tracks, and I leaned against the sink to absorb it. Almost immediately I was struck by the urge to grab my phone and document the moment.

But I’d just listened to a couple of episodes of the most excellent podcast Note to Self about the pull technology has on our brain, and so I decided to fight the power and pause.

Why do you need a photo? Phone photos rarely capture the magic of moments like these. Stay and be present.

I stayed right there, camera-free, feeling a little proud of myself and, yes, kind of smug. I was mindful! I was present! Even though I had to fight again and again the same unbidden urge to run for my phone.

But I didn’t take a picture. I just stood and looked at those doves. They were so lovely — lovelier in life than they could ever be in an iPhone photo.

Hm…

I thought…

…this might make a good Facebook status.

I started composing what I might say — then stopped and wrestled my attention back to the doves.

But seriously, this would be a good moment to build an essay around. About the whole brain vs. technology thing as seen via a moment with the doves.

I started writing the lede in my mind, rummaging in my vocabulary for words that captured the vision.

I stopped myself again.

Get out of your brain. Look at the doves. Look at the sky. Look at the branches.

Why was it so hard to stay focused? I looked at the doves but my mind wandered towards constructing a transition from the image of the doves to discussion of the addictive pull my technology has on my brain.

Look. At. The. Doves.

I really wanted to dash to my computer and start sketching the idea.

But I stayed. I stayed in the moment. I stayed and looked at the doves.

Wait a minute…I’m a writer! Is it possible feeling the urge to write something in this moment of mindfulness is a good thing? Is the mindfulness creating space for creativity? That could be another good angle.

I chewed on that a few minutes, my eyes still pointed in the direction of the doves.

Where could I sell a piece about the whole brain vs. technology thing as seen via a moment with the doves?

I started enumerating in my mind some likely outlets. Or maybe I could blog it. In which case, shouldn’t I have a picture of those doves to run with the blog? My eyes refocused on them.

No. The whole point is to not have a photo of the doves! Look at the doves!

By this point, my brain was spinning full throttle. Now I felt bound and determined to stay there as long as those damn doves, having a goddam mindful moment. Just once I succumbed to the pull of my laptop, drifting towards it, but before I’d hit a key to wake it, I dragged myself back to the kitchen window.

Hm, look at that…they have cleverly positioned themselves where they can keep an eye on all three bird feeders. Cheeky devils! I wonder if they’ve been chasing birds off. No wonder they’re so fat. I’ve heard they have tiny brains. See how much more observant you are when you resist the urge to dilute an experience by curating it with technology? How can I use that in the piece?

I have no idea how long I stood there. Maybe three minutes, maybe 10, maybe 20. Like little zaps of electricity, the urge to run to my phone, to my computer, pulsed in my brain. And when my willpower finally collapsed in an exhausted heap, I slunk to my computer and started writing this.

The doves sat on that branch for quite a while longer. I checked on them every five minutes, fighting the urge to photograph them each time. After about 30 minutes, I went outside, which scared them off.

So, I will now go through life with no photo, only the memory of those doves in the sunshine. And this essay.

So, did I fail at mindfulness and succumb to technology, or use both to their advantage?