Are You Being Served? Or Are You Being Served?

After the death of my daughter, I went offline. Interacting with anyone outside of my immediate family was all but impossible for me. I could not- would not- witness the world continuing to turn without my child in it. I’ve written a memoir about the loss of my child and the prophetic dreams that surrounded the event, but that’s not what this post is about. This post is about unplugging from the Manipulation Machine.

You see, even though it’s been years since I first logged off, I’ve never completely gotten back on. There’s a whole universe up there in the cloud that I’m only vaguely aware of. And it’s pretty great.

Of course, I’m not completely offline. I occasionally scroll Reddit or check in on the family and friends still active on Facebook. I’m also part of the family’s group Snapchat that, despite the app’s almost hysterical need to connect me with others, I strictly maintain so as not to miss a post from my inner circle. Watching one son and his wife dancing while they make dinner or being gifted with a pithy and hilarious snap from the other is often better than a phone call.

So yes, I dabble in social media. But I’m not captured.

I’m free to go through my day not having music from viral posts ricocheting through my brain in a never-ending cycle, not being rage-baited for clicks and engagement and not exposing myself to global  carnage or -perhaps even worse- pop-culture marketing designed to turn me into a drooling consumer (I swear, if I see one more celebrity pushing weight-loss medication for big pharma I’m going to poke my own eyes out with a churro).

Not that I’m against B-list celebrities or weight-loss drugs. But I am against being beat over the head by them and with them.

Despite the billions of hunters-both electronic and human- desperately trying to engage me for my data, my thoughts, my very will to think independently, I remain in my little bubble of ignorance, blissfully immune from the trashfire theater of social protests, viral trends or identity politics.

But I am aware that there are many positive things the internet has done to more directly connect humanity and expose each other to our ideas, bypassing the traditional gatekeepers of the world who hold back and filter information for their own benefit like ancient Egyptian priests. I celebrate the fact that people can now self-publish books, music, and art without having to bow down to the appointed Choosers. I love that we can connect and react instantly to real-time situations.

“In the six minutes it took me to edit this post, a new Tik Tok celebrity has emerged, gone viral, peaked, and been canceled and forever banished. All before my coffee has cooled.”

But I hate the pandering. I hate the endless mantra of “Like & Subscribe!” I hate that “curating my online presence” is a thing (looking at you, Linkedin profile page. Ugh.) And I hate that our kids are overwhelmed. Hell, I’m overwhelmed. In the six minutes it took me to edit this post, a new Tik Tok celebrity has emerged, gone viral, peaked, and been canceled and forever banished. All before my coffee has cooled.

My son often says that my refusal to plug in is all well and good for me- I’m on the shorter downslope of my life’s trajectory,  and I can “afford to be ignorant” of politics or world news. But he must remain tuned in, he argues, because he has a whole life and future world to live in, as well as the children he’ll have someday. And he’s right, of course: in as much as we still have free will, I do believe it’s our responsibility to pay at least some attention to whatever shenanigans our leaders get up to and to help shape the future for our children. But the pace at which culture shifts now is dizzying and exhausting. It’s a relentless cycle of hype and dismissal, leaving little room for genuine connection or reflection. And it requires constant vigilance against losing one’s footing.

Because I don’t think it’s benign. I think it’s the biggest slippery slope that humanity is facing at the moment. The Algorithm is feeding us- and is itself being fed by- organizations and entities that do not have our best interests at heart. It is performing a classic bait & switch routine where it distracts us with shiny images or divides us by keeping us inflamed and arguing while it harvests our wealth, data, and humanity.

I had a dream recently. Not the kind of Dream (which I now think of as more of a Download) that I reference in my memoir. This was a regular old run-of-the-mill dream. In it, I ran into a stunning woman with long auburn hair, wearing a plain dress. We chatted like friends and I asked her what she was up to.

“I’m in service,” was her simple and elegant reply.

I didn’t have to ask what she was “in service” to. In the way of dreams, I instantly inferred her meaning. She was in service to love, to light, to life. But despite her glowing aura and fabulous skin (I mean, it was absolutely poreless), she wasn’t an angel. She was just a calm, peaceful person who’d chosen to spend her energy and efforts tending to the people and things in life that brought happiness, not feeding a gigantic data-mining  machine being manipulated by organizations that seem hell-bent on replacing our intelligence and free will with video clips and scare tactics.    

I awoke from that dream thinking of all the people I knew who were “in service.” My sister, for one, spends every free moment creating lovely watercolors of people and places, bringing out the quiet beauty of a woman sitting on a bus stop bench or highlighting a centuries old building in soft blues and pinks. My sons and many of my nieces and nephews are talented artists who want nothing more than to make joyous music or photograph nature. My husband loves to take wood and hammer and nails and build beautiful structures with it. It’s his therapy and his calling. My daughter-in-law bakes bread and cooks food with a level of joy that can actually be tasted on the plate. Those who know me are aware that I will unapologetically dance any time or place where the spirit moves me, whether it be in my kitchen or on line at the bank. And I write- not because I think I’m an expert, but because I’m in service- to something creative, something life-affirming, something that doesn’t use trickery or data to hijack the attention span (and discernment) of other people in order to profit off them.

But, monk-like as it sometimes feels to be offline, I’m not living the life of an ascetic (if so, I would be the only monk who had at least ten shopping apps on their phone). And of course I see the irony in launching a website with a blog post that advocates going offline more. Despite that, I hope that this site resonates with people who will indeed reach out to me. I truly think it would be lovely to connect with people who are on the same journey as I am and besides, how else am I supposed to reach the world- carrier pigeon?

But if it all went away tomorrow, I’d still be dancing in my kitchen (or the grocery store or dentist’s office), I’d still be writing my stories, I’d still be curled up in a chair with a good book, meeting my friends for a cup of tea, or just gazing up at the moon when I walk my dogs. Take the Algorithm away, and I’d still be in service- to Life, not the Matrix. 

The point is, we’re all spiritual and human batteries, and we must be careful which entities we let draw our power away. Because whether servant or served, the real feast is knowing which role you’re playing. 

*Jai Undercoffer· personal musings & mental dispatches · Professional work at Jai-Writes.com