To be in love with the real world
Ancient human practices are the best antidote for a screen-filled life
In the pantheon of Things to Worry About as a Parent, here is one that occupies my thoughts more than it probably should: we don’t live near the water.
Growing up, I was surrounded by it. My childhood home was not oceanfront, but we were five minutes from a cove where we could launch kayaks, 15 minutes from the nearest beach, 20 minutes from a pond where my friend’s family had a tiny cottage. My high school job was in a coastal town, just feet from a bascule drawbridge. The sea breeze drifted in through the propped shop door.
Because it was enticing and available, water was the backdrop to so many of my adolescent memories, and I believe they were more vibrant and golden-hued because of it. We didn’t have to hang around a grimy Target to feel freedom with friends; instead, we could be out in the sun, splashing in the waves, picnicking on a seawall, or hopping the fence to pump our legs on a rattly swing set, the salt air pushing at our faces, hours after sunset.
Am I making it sound idyllic? Yes, I am, because it was. I believe the environment of my childhood — the easy access to woods, water, sun, shade — kept me out of heaps of trouble. “Trouble” is probably relative — I was not exactly a rebel — but because the natural world was so available, I happily chose it over most other diversions, even as a teenager. Because I could so easily feel alive — experiencing joy, wonder, beauty, risk, mastery, freedom just beyond my front door — I didn’t seek out stimulation in manufactured ways.
I want the same for my children.
All of this came to mind when I read Katherine Martinko’s excellent essay about the most powerful antidote to a screen-filled life: that is, helping our children understand “that online life is a pale, insipid version of offline life, and that the feelings of pleasure, satisfaction, meaning, and stimulation that every young person craves are far more profound and lasting when encountered in reality.” Instead of fighting screens with time limits, tech-free zones, focus mode, or gray scale — focusing on what we are against — we should prioritize showing our children what it looks like to be in love with the real world.
What’s the best way to do this? Katherine suggests we start by considering what humans have done to entertain themselves for millennia, and then spend time doing more of those things:
“Humans are accustomed to gathering in groups, investing in multi-age social relationships, having families and caring for them, making food and sharing it, singing in groups and listening to music and dancing, engaging in creative pursuits like painting and writing, syncing their bodies with the seasons, growing food and looking after plants, strengthening their bodies through physical tasks, thinking deeply, and contemplating their insignificance relative to the vastness of a night sky filled with stars or the unending stretch of an ocean rolling with waves.”
Don’t you read that list and just want to let out a giant, satisfied exhale? I do. It also makes me want to embrace even more enthusiastically our family’s current modern/ancient practices, and to expand our repertoire of the same.
You, too? While Katherine’s list is a fantastic starting point, I thought it might be helpful to share some specific ways our family lives them out…