Paying attention in a digital age

and some more things that happened when we were kids

In the early nineties, my dad built us (me and my three younger brothers) an underground playhouse. He dug out a sizable round area, made a base, fitted the walls with wire mesh and did the same for a ceiling, on which cement was placed. Grass was planted on the roof so it blended in. There was a tunnel to crawl through from the front and a hatch to climb down (with a rope ladder) from the top.

It was used many years for imaginary play, overnight missions¹, and served as a bomb shelter for a high school history class film project.

Anyway, after the kids all left home, the underground playhouse became home to an ornery badger or two and gathered dirt and even more webs and all sorts of other wild things that move in as a result of discontinued use by humans.

The view from below looking up through the hatch.

But no more— now that there are lots of grandkids on the scene for my folks, Dad cleaned out the dirt, replaced the floor coverings, built a sturdy new ladder, and replaced the half-rotted hatch, thus returning the underground playhouse to its full glory.

Here’s Eva going down the new ladder during a recent visit.

It’s fun to see this relic of an 80s and 90s childhood get new life as a new generation of youth dives into all the stories that are possible from tunneling underground. It reinforces my belief that kids need safe physical places to explore, dirt to touch, the possibility of creepy-crawlies, and the attention of other loving humans far more than they need the next version of [insert your device of choice here].

Here we are inside…as a kid I always thought we’d go out there in case of a tornado, but alas, we never did. (Fortunately, we didn’t venture down into the root cellar hatch in the pantry more than a handful of times, either.)

I’ll leave you today with this short excerpt from Collisions of Earth and Sky, a chapter called “Paying attention in a digital age.”

What if we kept the internet in the basement, only to take it out when it was truly needed as a tool or on special occasions for specific purposes? What if we only used smartphones for emergencies, like navigating an unfamiliar city at night? I remember that world, and even though my current employment and projects literally depend on easy access to the internet, I miss parts of it.

All of this is to say I have found that my health and wellbeing depend on fostering the right balance of analog and digital in this digital-focused world. Most of the literature I’ve read on how to live better with technology points toward the same basic principles. Perhaps you’ll find these are things you know already too, deep in your bones: Be where you are. Develop the capacity to notice the details of the days. Reclaim your attention from that which wants to make it a commodity on the open market. Use new technology, but don’t let it use you. Take time to explore what exists right outside the front door, from local flora and fauna to community to goods and services. Ensure your energy is being directed toward what is truly life-giving.

And a little later:

What does your life belong to? What does truly spark joy from the inside? These are questions we could all do well to ask on a regular basis. I will be asking myself over and over again because staying present and aware in the age of the internet, in the age of the attention economy, must be a daily practice. We must remember that true exploration takes investment in the here and now.

And if that exploration takes place underground sometimes? Even better. ;)

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Event notes:

Bring a friend and enjoy the readings, conversations and complimentary coffee and desert.

Friday, June 21 at 7pm 13025 Lake Blvd, Lindstrom, MN

1. (these overnight sleep-out aspirations were mostly aborted…lots of bugs and spiders and other creeping crawling things in underground spaces and its VERY dark underground especially when there’s no daylight coming in from the openings…)