How my grandchildren spend time with their friends

Kiera, on the left, and Drew, lying on top. Sue, their mom, took the photo today and put it on facebook, saying that all she hears from them is “Oh.”

About Ann Kreilkamp

PhD Philosophy, 1972. Rogue philosopher ever since.
This entry was posted in 2012, unity consciousness, zone zero. Bookmark the permalink.

0 Responses to How my grandchildren spend time with their friends

  1. laurabruno says:

    It’s windows into life like these (and I’ve seen them with my nephews, too) that make me think some kind of pulse that messes up the grid really wouldn’t be that bad. At least it would return people to their own humanity instead of having their primary interface with a machine. I remember being a kid and directing and acting in spontaneous plays, playing hide and go seek in Nature, riding bikes together, making crafts. When I see most kids today, they are glued to their iPhones or iPads, in their own virtual reality. They’re not even playing video games with each other, but just simultaneously interacting with their own machine that commands their attention and reality. It’s sad.

    Of course, I say this while typing on a laptop! I find myself fighting the machines as well. Sometimes I need to turn off the iPhone just so I don’t check for texts, emails, alternative news, etc. Books, visits with friends, interacting with Nature … I hope children can return to this before they lose their souls to a machine. Rudolf Steiner thought humanity had begun to lose connection with its soul during his lifetime. How “far” we’ve come since then!

    I appreciate being able to keep in touch with others so easily, but at what cost? On Friday, I handwrote a card to my 100-year-old grandmother because she doesn’t use a computer and is too deaf to talk on the phone. I used to write letters all the time, but this was the first in far too long because it’s so “not convenient.” Even more sobering was the fact that my handwriting has become so messy from disuse that it took way longer and more concentration to write things out. I type MUCH faster than I write, and that slowness irritated me It also gave me pause.

    Due to the nature of my work, I am fortunate to have many, many deep interactions with people every day, and I feel blessed to have naturally inclined younger folks, as well as somewhat computer illiterate older people in my life. My guy’s dad is an 81-year-old Dutch immigrant, Mennonite, polyglot, artist, photographer, European tour guide, author and storyteller. He knows all the best little spots of Olde Europe, and can give you directions and people contacts for places as diverse as Haiti and British Columbia. He hand designs in perfect fonts every single envelope he mails to friends and family all around the world, and these envelopes have become collectors’ items. On our last visit, he apologized for “this dumb guy not knowing how to operate a computer.” I almost cried. Really?? We live in a bizarre culture in which electronics reign supreme.

    Sorry for the lengthy comment. Guess that picture WAS worth a 1000 words!

    Blessings to you and your family …Laura

  2. claudia says:

    For me, Laura’s response covers in very few words volumes of responses.
    I wish we could capture the picture and her response in a less fleeting venue.
    It calls upon the memory of us all. It brings up potently challenges concerning
    balance….and perhaps the need for adults to initiate structures that protect
    their minds and especially youthful minds from the excessive marketing that
    we are all surrounded by at this time. To implement structure is difficult in our
    current emotional climate. However this exchange could remind us of a real
    bottom line and help us recalibrate this out of control trolley. I need a copy.
    Maybe I could have it in my store. Claudia

    • Ask Sue for a copy of it. Not sure what the best way would be to get a good copy. She would probably know.
      Yes, it speaks volumes. And I noticed later that the kids were not even touching one another on the couch . . . No touching. Just subliminal companionship of the mind . . .

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