Monday, August 18, 2014

There is no like button in real life

The other day on Facebook I came across this article, "I Quit Liking Things On Facebook for Two Weeks. Here’s How It Changed My View of Humanity."

I was curious. It gave me pause. I wasn't all that concerned about my feed or ads on my page. I know that somehow I see what I am meant to see on Facebook and I ignore ads.

But I do know that I had a habit of hitting the like button sometimes without giving it too much thought. And since I am a truth teller, sometimes I would click like before reading the link, opening it up in a new window and reading it later.

We all tend to be so wired these days and have a tendency to not really pay attention to what we are doing. We are creatures of habit and are comfortable experiencing our habitual, default reactions to people and to life.

There was the NY Times Article, "No Time to Think," about a study conducted where people would rather receive an electric shock than be alone with their thoughts.

It's easy to be a speed demon scrolling through Facebook hitting the "like" button letting the feed whiz by. We can also be speed demons in our lives not taking the time we need to slow down, pay attention and interact with the people who mean the most to us.

Facebook is a wonderful way for me to stay in touch with my friends and to share in each other's lives. We hold each other's hands in cyberspace when someone is hurting. We celebrate each other's triumphs, births, weddings, PR's, firsts ....

When I sit with my friends over lunch or a cup of coffee and they say something to me, or show me a photo, I don't just hit a like button. I interact with them.

And so for the next two weeks, I am going to pause before I hit a like button and instead will make a comment. I began my experiment yesterday and I must say I am like'ing it.

Tara Brach talks about the Sacred Pause, that moment when we have the opportunity to become aware and awake. She quotes Victor Frankl:

I plan to pause and collect my thoughts and write a comment rather than only hitting the like button and moving on. I'll see if I go back to using the like button after my two week experiment is up. I know sometimes it's fun to see ooh how many people like'd my photo. We are all after all, only human. But I do know this. If I do decide to go back to using the like button, I will be sure to also add a comment.

After all, there is no like button in real life.

"Wait, I have one more goal," Mary McManus told her personal trainer in February of 2008 shortly after coming out of her toe up leg brace. "I want to run the Boston Marathon for Spaulding Rehab Hospital." Mary traded in her polio shoes for running shoes and embarked on the journey of a lifetime. Mary McManus was at the height of her career as a VA social worker when she was told by her team at Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital’s International Rehab Center for Polio in December of 2006 that she needed to quit her job if she had any hope of preventing the progression of post polio syndrome, a progressive neuromuscular disease. In “Coming Home: A Memoir of Healing, Hope and Possibility” Mary takes you on her seven year healing odyssey as a survivor of paralytic polio and trauma from her diagnosis, to taking a leap of faith to leave her award winning career at the VA to heal her life and follow her passion as a poet and writer. You’ll experience her trials, tribulations and triumphs as she trains for and crosses the finish line of the 2009 Boston Marathon and discovers the opportunity for healing in the wake of new trauma: the suicide of her nephew in 2011, and the aftermath of the 2013 Boston Marathon bombings. This is Mary's journey of coming home to her human form free from the influences of the ghastly ghostly invaders who had invaded her sacred earthly home. Her memoir includes journals and blog posts from her seven year healing odyssey. This is her journey of transformation and her message of healing, hope and possibility.

I donate 50% of royalty payments through on line sales to The One Fund to help Boston Marathon survivors and their families. Copies are also available at Brookline Marathon Sports. $5 of each book sold at Marathon Sports is donated to The One Fund.

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