These 2 gadgets are so alike, they’re almost twins, right? Right?
This morning, fellow grasshoppers – and in my defence I must point out that it was before breakfast – I single-handedly engineered the briefest of entertainments from the Mindless Zone. And I’m betting that, like me, you do something similar quite regularly, too. Can we learn something from it? Only future moments will tell.
The Mindless Habit Scenario. Lola and I go for a walk most mornings, and I’ve developed the habit of slinging my camera in its bag over my shoulder and taking it with me, after once spectacularly failing to capture some fabulous shots of ducks (a mother and her duckling – irresistible, n’est pas?) under my favourite tree in the park. Annie Leibowitz would not have missed these shots.
During today’s morning walk, Lola snapped off a few shots with her compact and, in the end, I didn’t use my camera at all.
Later. The Mindless Habit – Exposed. After breakfast every day, I do an exercise routine and use my mobile phone’s timer to count down the sets. This morning, I couldn’t find the phone in its usual spot on the table in the back room, so I went to the kitchen. No phone. Back to the usual spot. No phone.
Unusual spots. You guess it – nada. Phone missing, no visible signs of burglary by felons unknown, or lip-smacking consumption by felines known to the household. I can’t call the phone because it’s turned off.
Next. Worry for a while and wonder about grey matter turning into blanc mange. Worry further and fling papers about, re-check all suspect places.
Note presence of camera on table in back room where phone normally lives. Developing sense of panic interrupted by slow realisation.
The Mindless Zone Strikes.
How did my camera remove itself from its bag – left on the kitchen bench after our walk – and travel from there to the study? Poltergeist? Pack cat? Our Dotty always looks suspicious, but no, she has no interest in gadget theft, only food. Pack rat? None we know of, and surely they prefer real chips not digital ones.
I step lively to the kitchen, grab my camera bag and find the answer. The camera never left the house. The phone nestles inside where I placed it this morning as I proceeded to gather myself together for our walk.
I don’t remember a thing about the event itself – the bagging of the phone and not the camera – because I was travelling in the vague territory that is the Mindless Zone, where phones and cameras sitting close together appear indistinguishable from each other, and because the Mindless Zone creates Mindless Eyes, and Mindless Eyes might as well be wearing a blindfold. The Mindless Zone also creates Mindless Hands, and Mindless Hands might as well be wearing Antarctic gloves for all the sensitivity they contain.
Habit can be efficient and useful, and it can be mindless and ridiculous. the results depend, of course, on whether we’re travelling in the Mindless or the Mindful Zone.
A Mindful, Habitual Answer
The third time I locked my keys in the car because I was zooming along in the Mindless Zone, I taught myself the new habit of taking those keys out of the ignition with Mindful Hands and looking at them with Mindful Eyes before exiting the car and locking the door in the Mindful Zone. (I haven’t called the auto club since).
I’ll try that with my camera and phone. Of course, travelling at my own pace and getting ready the night before has much to recommend it, too.
Which one do you prefer? Why not do both – with a belt and braces you can’t go wrong, and you’ll be living in the now where the only and the very best memoir happens.
Remember: Memoir = Life = Now
This post brought to you by slightly tilted letterbox number 54
