Loneliness, Yoga and Isolation

“What should young people do with their lives today? Many things, obviously. But the most daring thing is to create stable communities in which the terrible disease of loneliness can be cured.”

Kurt Vonnegut said this in 1982, decades before humanity would become steeped in a world of social media, cellphones, pandemics and artificial intelligence. I think he would be horrified at just how un-lonely the world was in the early 80s compared to today. I’ve read more and more headlines about today’s loneliness epidemic, and have observed firsthand the decline of clubs, sports leagues, religion and spontaneous gatherings, along with the rise of privacy fences, ear buds and cellphones, all of which are built to quash potential conversations. My daughter, while attending orientation at the University of Louisville eight years ago, lamented the fact that in an earlier era when students waited for the festivities to begin, they would have struck up conversations rather than leaning on the comfort of scrolling through their phones.

By contrast, I can still remember the first person I spoke to at my graduate school orientation in 1992. Today, that conversation would likely never occur.

But hell, when it comes to disengaging, I’m exhibit A, or at least B or C. After being a late holdout on the purchase of a flip-phone, and eventually a smartphone, I’ve become adept at passing time via a screen versus speaking with a fellow human being, and after years of heavy involvement at my synagogue and other volunteer activities, I’ve pulled away. And, for the moment, this disengagement feels…good. Comfortable. Cocoon-like. But as Roger Waters concluded in Pink Floyd’s magnum opus The Wall, isolation decays the mind. It places us too much inside our own heads and our own echo chambers, and the inevitable result is loneliness and perhaps even a descension into fear and paranoia.

All of this brought to mind something I read in Benjamin Lorr’s book about groceries that I blogged about a few months ago. In it, he references a previous book of investigative journalism that he authored called Hell-Bent: Obsession, Pain, and the Search for Something Like Transcendence in Competitive Yoga.

Lorr writes about his immersion into the world of yoga, where people “would enter a studio and bend for eight hours a day, busy doctors, lawyers, bankers who would sneak off to fit in an hour and a half on their lunch break. In yoga it was self-betterment, self-improvement, or becoming a stronger, more radiant version of yourself.  And in it, I found a whole community based on this ethos: people reveling in the very real ways they had transformed from couch potatoes and addicts, remarking after every class about just how much more capable they felt now. But wat was the end? What did you do once you became a better version of yourself? Where did all this self-improvement lead? The answer was always back to more yoga. Never volunteer at a clinic or a food kitchen, never for a studio owner to open more classes to the poor or injured. Never to take our radiant yoga bodies and put them to use in the service for others. And so those lawyers or doctors would go on to use that extra energy to bend for longer house, and when they had a vacation they went off in search of themselves, spiraling deeper and deeper into the practice, becoming ever more capable humans, who could push their bodies into ever more drastic positions.”

It’s similar to the philosopher who devotes a life to the study of ethics while never lifting a finger to help another person, or the theologian who reads the scripture in one hand and turns away the beggar in the other.

And how lovely it is to judge others and think, “Well, that’s not me.” But most of us practice our version of self-immersion, perhaps in worlds other than yoga. For me, it’s writing and composing, record-shopping, listening to music, watching baseball, organizing photos, etc.

And when was the last time I volunteered? It’s been a year, a full five months past the deadline I’d set for myself to get started again.

Time to make a change, I know. Studies show time after time that one of the best ways to cure loneliness is to volunteer to help others, to engage with our fellow human beings. So why are we working so hard as a society to do anything but?

The Death of Communication

Communicating with each other has never been easier; what used to take days or weeks can now be accomplished in a split-second, and distance is no longer the constraint it once was.  My daughters both attend college in different time zones from me, and in the short time they’ve been way we’ve already texted, Skyped, emailed, called over the phone and even sent a few notes via US Mail.

So if communication has never easier then why are so many of us doing so little of it?

Much has been written about how young people’s personal communication skills are on the decline since the advent of texting and social networking, and to be sure, even anecdotally my daughters have reported difficulty meeting people – at college, no less – due to the lack of urgency: after all, when a person is alone, she can use her phone as a security blanket and therefore has little incentive to go through the awkward ritual of having to seek someone out, shake hands and make introductions.

But regardless of what’s happening in the huge social experiment of today’s youth, what about older folks?  I’m in my 40s.  Surely my generation communicates well with each other, right? 

My own personal experience – albeit not a statistically significant one – indicates otherwise.  Over the past few years I’ve been troubled by an increasing lack of communication among my generational brethren, and oddly enough, it even occurs at the electronic level where back and forth relays of information are particularly effortless.

I started thinking about this topic a few weeks ago, when during a conversation with my mom she mentioned how much she pines for the days when you could pick up a phone, call someone and expect an answer.  No caller ID.  No voicemail.  No waiting period during which you wonder whether your message has been a) received b) given to the person intended; c) forgotten about entirely or d) simply ignored. 

Initially I argued against my mother (surprise!) and suggested that caller ID and voicemail have been huge benefits.  They’ve shifted the power from the person making the call to the person receiving the call.  No longer am I obligated to answer the phone if it’s someone I don’t want to talk to (telemarketers, unknown numbers) or if the timing is poor (during dinner, heading out the door, going to bed).  No more am I forced to speak with a particular loquacious person who shall remain nameless when I know I’ve got to leave in five minutes to take my son to drum lessons.

But I’ve thought a lot about this topic since my mom and I spoke, and I’ve concluded that she’s onto something.  We generally no longer view voicemail messages as something that need to be addressed immediately, but rather view them as suggestions: something than can be addressed (or not) at some point in the future if it’s convenient.  Lately I’ve found this trend applies to other mediums as well.  During the past year I reached out via email to several friends I hadn’t seen in quite a while, and some of my messages were either never answered or were answered after a few months, and often very quickly.  (“Gotta make this short – really busy.”) 

A note to all people who keep announcing how busy their lives are: @@We’re all busy.  Get over yourselves.@@ 

The lost art of letter writing – which I still practice – of course fairs poorly, as most of my letters are not only never returned (which I understand and expect) but are also unacknowledged (which I don’t understand even if I’ve come to expect it), and more and more even texts – heretofore a medium that commanded immediate attention – have been addressed in the same manner as phone calls and emails.  They’re placed in the “get to it later when it’s convenient” pile, and often never followed up on.

Now, to be fair, I still send and receive hundreds of emails and texts every month, but these are typically of the “what time is the meeting on Tuesday?” or “Man the Brewers suck” variety: quick communications meant to share quick information.  For these types of correspondences texting and emails work very well. 

But here’s the question: what’s replaced the lengthy phone conversations and in-depth letters or email correspondences that we used to have with family and friends?  I’m afraid that in many cases those types of interactions have gone by the wayside. 

You might say, “Sure, Paul, but you're kind of an asshole, and it’s clear people want nothing to do with you.”

Fair enough, but I think this trend doesn’t stop with me.  Even among my close friends and family I haven’t noticed a lot of reaching out to others.  The following excerpt is from an op-ed piece in the Wall Street Journal last May:

…we spend so much time maintaining superficial connections online that we aren’t dedicating enough time or effort to cultivating deeper real-life relationships. Too much chatter, too little real conversation.

I think there’s something to this.  More and more I witness people proactively avoiding real communication.  Invitations to parties go unanswered or – and this really kills me – are declined without the offer of an alternative.  So, for example, an invitation to get together is answered with “Can’t that evening, sorry,” instead of “can’t that evening, but what about next Friday?”  This appears to be a growing trend, and I find it sad.

Back in the 90s I kept all of the letters I received and took copious notes of daily events and correspondences.  In an effort to organize some of my old crap recently, I plowed through several years’ worth of paper and was amazed at how many letters and phone calls I received on a regular basis, and not just from family and close friends.  Even people very much on the periphery of my life called to say hello or took a half an hour out of their lives to compose a letter to me.  Upon review, I was amazed by the number of correspondences I used to exchange with people.

These days, even the most modest attempts at real human interaction are often met with little more than a shrug of the shoulders.  I know.  I’m starting to sound like that old codger.  And I’m starting to agree with my mother.  Forecast for hell: a deep freeze.

But I think it’s time for each of us to start thinking about what’s important and what signals we’re sending to each other.  After all, is a person who you don’t see, don’t talk to and don’t respond to messages from really a friend?  If yes, in what sense?  If not, I’ve lost a boat-load of friends over the past few years.

Dang, that’s depressing.

I think to make myself feel a little better I’ll call someone up and leave a voicemail.

A smartphone cost-savings alternative

I’m all for spending money where it matters.  For some people, that might be cars or vacations.  For others, fine dining and bottles of wine.  For me, I don’t mind spending money on live musical acts or my yearly pilgrimage to Lambeau  Field.  But I hate spending money on stuff that I don’t particularly value in the first place.  I’ve managed to avoid paying for cable for the past fourteen years, so that’s something, but I still piss away about $90 on a landline and Internet service each month, which irritates the hell out of me. 

Three years ago I purchased my first cell-phone – a dumb phone – and paid a monthly fee of $15 for its use.  Not too bad, but after three years it finally started going on the fritz, so I recently took the plunge into the smart phone waters, hopeful that I could do so without signing away my firstborn to one of the big providers.  A couple of years ago, this might have been an impossible task, but today there are a number of no-contract cell phone plans that are nice alternatives for certain consumers. 

I chose to go with Republic Wireless, a company that customizes the one phone it offers – the fabulous Moto X – so that it utilizes WiFi as the default, switching to a traditional cell network only when necessary.   This means that when you’re at home or in the office, you can use the WiFi available to you, which ultimately allows Republic Wireless to offer packages that are far cheaper than what you’ll find at Verizon, Sprint and AT&T.  I looked at the big providers, and generally the cost was $40 a month for the phone, plus another $50 or so for a data plan.  There are economies of scale, however, so adding another phone or two to the data plan improves the per-phone cost.   Also, the phones are free (or close to free), but that’s only as an enticement to lock you into a long-term plan.

Compare this with Republic Wireless.  Yes, there’s an upfront cost: I paid $299 for my Moto X, which seems like a lot compared to the free phone I could have gotten from one of the big providers, but it’s an excellent price for an excellent 16 GB phone, and now – here’s the best part – I only pay $10 a month to use it.  This includes data, text and phone when I’m in a WiFi network (including internationally), but only text and phone when traveling - no data.  For me this is not a big deal, as I spend most of my time at home.  But if I DO want data everywhere, Republic Wireless offers this for just $25 a month by piggybacking off of Sprint’s network.  And what's really fantastic is I’m allowed to switch plans twice a month, so if, for example, I decide I need data while traveling on vacation, I can bump my plan up to include data for a week or two, and then switch back to my normal $10 a-month plan.  Pretty cool.

Comparing costs long-term, I’ll start saving money with Republic Wireless after only four months.

Month:                 Total cost with normal plan          Total cost with Republic Wireless

1                            90                                                       310

2                            180                                                     320

3                            270                                                     330

4                            360                                                     340

Even if I decide to up my plan to include cell data service, I’ll start saving money after only five months.

1                            90                                                       325

2                            180                                                     350

3                            270                                                     375

4                            360                                                     400

5                            450                                                     425

Over three years, I’ll save between $2000 and $2600 depending on which plan I use at Republic Wireless.  Not too shabby.

If I add a second phone, the savings become slightly less per phone, since on a traditional plan you can combine data between phones.  With two phones on a traditional plan, I’d be paying $40 per phone plus another $60 for a monthly data plan – so $140 per month.  That’s compared to $20 to $50 a month with Republic Wireless (plus an initial investment of $600 to purchase the phones).  Over three years, that’s still a savings of between $2600 and $3700 total.  Again, not chump change.

Republic Wireless clearly isn’t for everyone (anyone who wants a phone other than Moto X, for instance), but it's an excellent alternative to the way things are usually done.  I suspect that in the next year or two, more and more plans will be made available to consumers that slash the cost of phone use, allowing us to spend more money on cars, fine dining or Packer tickets.

Now the question is: do I get rid of my landline?