Turn Off, Tune Out, Drop In: A New Wednesday Tradition

I am appropriating (and altering) the original Turn On, Tune In, Drop Out “mantra” of the 60s counterculture to suit my own counterculture purposes.

Deep River Land Trust sent home a reminder via Gavin’s first grade assignment folder: this week is National TV Turnoff Week. We were reminded of the many local parks and other unplugged entertainments awaiting us. So our family is making inroads into tuning out from the seductive, sedating hum that is our TV and “dropping” back in to that somewhat foreign experience known as “real life”.

Our first foray ended up in a rewarding natural high. Gavin chose a CD (Abbey Road) to wake us from our opiate (of the masses) slumber. He doodled and played for a while. I found small things for Gavin to help with: he refilled our hand soaps, washed dishes very meticulously, fed the dog and enjoyed it. We made dinner together.

Later, we all sat down for what turned out to be a killer game of Monopoly. I discovered that Gavin has the makings of a railroad tycoon. I also discovered:

• TV doesn’t necessarily relax me; it often just helps me avoid and escape the business (and even the pleasure) of life
• The seduction of TV is the ease. It takes a bit of an effort to figure out what else to do, especially at the end of a long workday. But once you reawaken those dormant creative muscles, some good surprises await you
• TV can limit your child's experience of contributing to the household. It may feel easier to have Gavin “entertained”, but it feels infinitely better to see him take ownership of some more mature tasks
• There’s no substitute in a family for sitting around a table or taking a walk together, for the increasingly rare gifts of undivided attention and real conversation

Tom had Gavin watch a video last night while I went out. He didn’t feel well, and hadn’t the stamina to make the effort. But today we will be back to a TV-free house.

I know if we kept at this ad infinitum that not every night would be as joyful as that first one, which of course carried with it a sense of novelty and adventure. And I imagine it would be harder to pull off in the dark and chill of winter. But the experiment, which I highly recommend, is a wake up to experiences that offer more mental, spiritual, physical, and emotional bang per buck. Once we “survive” Turnoff week, we are instituting a No TV Wednesday policy. I have a feeling it may lead to even more TV-free days.

The Suspended Animation Experiment

Pragmatics

-Inching toward mediation? Here’s a good summary of the benefits.

• -I’ve just signed up for a free e-publication“101 Things to Do Instead of TV”. It’s kid-oriented, but just scanning the list I see a lot of things I want to go after myself, things that can get lost—more outdoor time, crossword puzzles, audio books, letter writing, etc.


• -This blogging parent, in The Not Quite Crunchy Parent, has decided to use after school time, sans TV, to fill in some educational gaps that her children might have. She calls it afterschooling, but framed of course, as something fun for the kids.

-Yesterday, in the midst of some computer work, I was soothed by the sight and sound of misty rain outside the window. The Watching Nature site is a good substitute for a real walk outside, perfect for one of these cold March nights spent longing for spring.

Prose

Last month, I set out to try 2 weeks without TV. The first week went swimmingly once I got into the groove. I found myself in the den fairly regularly, usually reading while Tom or Gavin watched. I could only take in small bites—no catching up on War and Peace. My best read was a small book of Thomas Merton’s reflections on nature. I envied his simple existence—devoted to contemplation and appreciation, noting how the ice formed or how the sun set. I mourned my shortened attention span, which I cannot attribute to TV alone. I am convinced it is a sped-up lifestyle overall that has my mind flitting when I want it to float.

The second no-TV week was a flop. It was a stressful week. I had some big decisions to make, preparations for Gavin’s birthday, lots of schedule hassles. Turning back to TV as a “numbing agent” reminded me of overeating, a habit I’ve (mostly) overcome. As you do it, you think, “I am slipping back into this, but I don’t feel I can overcome it right now. Maybe tomorrow.”

I think part of inching toward simplicity has to do with expanding your alternatives. It wasn’t just TV or reading that I had to choose from. I could have gotten on that neglected exercise bike, called a friend, enjoyed a hot shower, or simply closed my eyes and rested. If I didn’t have the fortitude to write, I could have sorted through my new markets or made a list of ideas. But I must admit, those things are not initially attractive when you are bone tired. It takes some wherewithal to shake off the electronic sedative, expend some energy and get into something new.

Another aspect of expanding your alternatives has to do with avoiding black and white, bad and good thinking. It doesn’t need to be TV bad, reading good; therefore no TV, ever. Still, I know that my life would benefit from regaining at least half the lost time.

I might be able to live with minutes lost to TV, just some time to zone out and reset my energy meter. So I’m planning on applying my own parenting tool beyond Gavin this week. Since his toddlerhood, I’ve set the timer for all sorts of things. I sometimes use it as a cutoff for TV time—when the timer buzzes it’s playtime again, and Gavin can be counted on to find a way to amuse himself. The buzzer will be my reminder: prevent my zone out minutes from becoming hours of channel surfing.

I’m also resurrecting an old meditation CD I bought for Tom. I remember back to my Nurse Practitioner days, when I led a meditation group. Even leading the group, just a half hour of dimmed lights and soft music, with me doing my best to murmur relaxation-inducing suggestions, left me surprisingly refreshed. There’s an experience that’s worth revisiting.

Sweater Weather: Bundled in Abundance

Pragmatics

Here is practical content from Real Simple on how and where to donate old clothing.

Walking around New York yesterday, I walked by several homeless people before sharing some of my wealth. Still, I was troubled by the conundrum: can’t give to everyone, and wouldn’t it be better to give to a homeless coalition? I appreciated this take on panhandling by a formerly homeless individual.

Short and sweet: 5 ways to cultivate an attitude of gratitude.

Prose

Down in the basement, years ago, Tom erected a zip-up, stand-alone vinyl “closet”, for the overflow. My old nursing uniforms are still down there, as are a miscellany of odd items like graduation gowns and spare scarves.

Packing for Presidents Day weekend in frigid Vermont, it occurred to me that I have worn the same 4 or 5 sweaters all winter. My favorite is an oversized, tweedy green men’s sweater, its hole well hidden by the roll neck collar. But Vermont seemed to call for an arsenal of woolens (I always overpack), and it occurred to me that a visit to the Port-A-Closet was in order.

For a woman who relishes sweaters (and I also seem to feel the cold more as I age), my basement epiphany felt like Christmas. A dozen forgotten sweaters were resurrected!

Two thoughts came immediately with the 12 sweaters. First, how blessed I am with abundance, to have a stash of items that I can manage to forget between seasons. Right after that, I realized how much less I could live with. Yes, in the first half of the winter I wished for an extra sweater or two. But I made do with my well-loved handful, thinking of an end-of-season sale that might fill things out for next year. No doubt I have done this a few years running, and then, like the squirrels in our yard, forget where I have stashed my winter stores.

Some of the sweaters are near duplicates—surely I can give these away. Rule of thumb: if your abundance goes unnoticed and supplies doubles, surely you have some to spare!

More abundance rediscovered this week: little snippets of reading, writing, or just plain sitting quietly. Going without TV (see Suspended Animation post), with one or two absent-minded exceptions, hasn’t been difficult at all. So far, my small episodes of reading, etc, are short attention span activities, too (has TV rotted my brain already?). But these pursuits seem to bring me back to my core self, while TV seems to help me avoid my inner life.

Finally, grateful for a long walk in heels to and from an appointment in NYC yesterday. The woman I met with mentioned her titanium hip, her multiple surgeries. My feet ache from pounding the pavement, but I relished every moment of the cool air, my sushi meal, the overdue exercise, and the sights and sounds of Manhattan.

There’s something about sweater weather, perhaps the added time for reflection, that sparks an “attitude of gratitude”.

Suspended Animation

Pragmatics

• -Turn off your tv.com offers, among other things, a very scary statistic: At the rate they are going, today’s kids will spend 7-10 years of their lives watching TV.
• -This blogger claims that 4 benefits occur when you cut out TV: “The first thing you notice is the reduced stress level. The second thing...you're reading more. The third thing...you get out more, and you lose a little weight. The fourth thing you might notice…is more sex." OK, I’m all for it! She’s got a lot to say on the subject: go to Creating Passionate Users to read more of both firsthand impressions and related research.
• -Kid's Health provides a wealth of information on TV for parents.
  

Prose

I’ve made today the official start of my experiment. No TV for 2 weeks.

I’m not a regular watcher of anything. I couldn’t tell you, without double checking, when House or CSI or Law and Order is on. I am a flipper. Ready to zone out, I’ll pick up the remote and scan by the 100 + channels our satellite has to offer. Mostly I land on the aforementioned shows and escape into the realm of medical or criminal mystery for a while. Much more rarely I find a thought-provoking documentary or an admired author reading their work on Book TV. Lately, of course, there’s been the privilege of watching the debates, with the very tangible benefit of reading personality behind all the rhetoric.

We only recently switched from basic cable to satellite, and often I wonder why. More channels to choose from, and yet still I flip restlessly among them, sometimes finding nothing at all that’s worth my time. On these occasions, rather than hitting the “off” button, I go around and around in a cyclical flip for a while. I feel like one of those cartoon characters in a trance, with spiraling black and white circles for eyes.

I don’t think TV is all bad. But lately I’ve come to feel that it keeps me from going deeper in my life. I use it as a sedative, when I could be catching up with a friend, trying out that meditation I crave but never really pursue, pushing myself to write just a bit more (instead of complaining about my time shortage).

Similar thoughts for Gavin and what TV might be preventing. We’ve set reasonable limits: only PBS for a few minutes on school mornings, an hour at most on school evenings. We are looser on the weekends, although I make sure we have outings, or get our minds busy and hands into something like Play Doh or Magnetix. Still, I worry that Gavin leans too heavily on TV’s promise of entertainment and, yes, sedation. It’s very easy as a parent to lean on these effects, too.

Tom and I earned the dubious distinction of owning the same TV for more than 18 years. We knew it was dying, and I saw this as an opportunity. I suggested that, when it finally took its last breath, that would be our cue to do a family experiment and go without TV for at least a couple of days. Our response spoke volumes: within hours Tom was shopping for a replacement, and I didn’t protest too much.

Reading this back, I realize that TV time is the only time when I am not productive in some way. And I really believe that we all need nonproductive time, time to just be. But it’s almost as if TV is the only way I’d give myself permission to be, and I don’t like that aspect of it. I’d like to be without a soundtrack for a while.

My friend Camilla lent me the first in a journal trilogy by Madeleine L’Engle. I did my pilot mini-boycott last night with this book in my hand. Appropriately, it is called A Circle of Quiet. I don’t think all of my non-TV pursuits need to be literally quiet, but I hope that they are more thoughtful and centered than the zoning out that feels too dominant these days. I enjoyed this quote from the book: “Here we are, living in a world of identity crises, and we have no idea what an identity is”. Written in 1972, when I was the same age as Gavin, this phrase has proven pretty timeless. I am hoping this experiment uncovers some lost or buried facets of my identity, gets me closer to who I really am without the noise.