Even the best technologies fail without an adequate power source. That we are connected may be cool, but what is even cooler is the power source—or the what—that fuels it.

Consider the following:

You are up late online, typing, clicking, scrolling, and reading, but amidst such activity you are getting very little done since your mind is hazy and scattered; your body is tight and lethargic. There were times earlier in the day when you worked effectively, but now your attention is weak, worn-out from an active day of work or school. While it may appear to an outside observer that you are making progress on an important project, you are accomplishing very little. A voice in your head beckons, “You have already been on the computer ten hours today. Why not do some stretching, read a book, or take a warm bath before bed?”

You agree in principle, but you just can’t pull your attention away from the social network, game, or news in front of you. Though you are choosing to use technology, you really feel as if it is controlling and using you.

The results of such long hours on the computer continue to impact you. Once you do finally disconnect, you are mentally exhausted and make your way to the refrigerator—the old, scattered mind state you are in believes that the right food will ease some of your tension and be a reward for your day of hard work. But in this frame of mind, you choose unhealthy food that is difficult for your body to digest, and you proceed to eat it with the same dazed attention. Trying to sleep some time later, your mind is still cluttered and your stomach bloated by your kitchen visit. You again turn on some technology—your TV, iPod, or computer—but nothing helps you relax. It takes you a few extra hours to get to sleep, and you wake up the next morning lethargic and drained.

Though most of us need to be networked for much of the day, for those of us constantly connected we have many times like this example when our engagement is habitual, when it feels like technology is using us instead of us using it. While it is extraordinary that we can be connected, we often forget to know what’s connected—or more precisely, what state of our mind is engaged. When this is forgotten or disregarded, our health and well-being pay the price.

I learned this the hard way some years ago while sitting in the emergency room. “Just how long do you spend on the computer each day?” the doctor asked me. It was eleven p.m. and I had come to the ER because, while working at my computer, my hands started twitching so much I could no longer type. The nerves in my body were shaking as if they were getting slight electrical shocks every few seconds.

The doctor had already worked his way through the first round of questions: Had I taken any illicit drugs? Did I eat anything out of the ordinary? Had I been working with chemicals? Was I on any medications? When I answered no to all of these, he followed with more general questions, like how I spend my days. “I am on the computer about twelve hours a day,” I finally responded, underestimating a few hours. The doctor’s head tilted back slightly, his eyes widened, and he expressed concern. What century is he from? I thought. Don’t most people work this much on the computer?

The doctor took my blood and ran some tests, all of which came back normal. By the time I left the hospital at roughly two a.m., he could find nothing wrong with me. Sure enough, after taking a few days off, my symptoms went away.

The cause of them, I surmised, had been my marathon computer use. My hours and hours online and linked in had caught up with me, such that my body was screaming to link out. Though I was connected and working very long days, I was paying almost no attention to my state of mind, and I was suffering the consequences. I know I am not the only one who has felt the effect of such a relationship. In an article in the New York Times, blogger Michael Arrington, founder of the renowned blog Techcrunch, told of gaining thirty pounds and developing a severe sleep disorder in his constantly connected life, concluding, “At some point, I’ll have a nervous breakdown and be admitted to the hospital, or something else will happen.”7 Sadly, this is likely true for more and more of us who put that we are connected and that we are working over what’s connected and what’s working. We increasingly feel the effects of an imbalanced and largely unconscious constantly connected life and are in danger of what my friend somewhat jokingly calls “death by computer.”

The Internet is a particular challenge to find this balance with since it never closes and is thus always an option. We can now spend all of our waking life connected to technology. This is both great and terrible. It is great because no matter if we are a morning or evening person, the Internet is available. At any time we can check Yahoo! News, YouTube videos, or updates to a friend’s profile page. However, this is terrible because there is really no time we can consider not going online. Many of us live with the ever-present voice, “You know, you could always go online. I wonder if someone sent you an e-mail or if so-and-so is online.” We really can go online any time. Before breakfast, “You could go online”; after breakfast, “You could go online”; before dinner, after dinner, pretty much any time of any day, we have this option. While the online world can help us find useful information to deal with many of life’s challenges, it can also be an escape from, rather than an exploration of, our life. Our time networked, either by phone or computer, becomes compulsive rather than creative. We spend many late nights online but with little to show for it because our attention is only partially present.

When we focus on that we are connected, the technologies become more important than their function. We think, Wow. Look how many videos I can watch. Look how much information I can consume in a day. Look how many people I can communicate with. Look how often I can read my e-mail and text messages. This is impressive, on one level. On another level, however, it is meaningless since the impact of these actions depends on the what that is present during them.

If, for example, addiction and anxiety are the motivators, if these are what’s engaging in our watching, reading, and interacting, then we are simply cultivating these qualities in our own life and bringing them into the world. If, however, ease and care are present, then we are adding these to our life and to the world.

The needed shift is to focus less externally, less on the that, to the internal or the what. When we do this, our priority is no longer on, “Look how much I can consume and be connected,” but is instead directed inward on, “What am I actually cultivating in this moment? What am I bringing into the world?” We see that no matter how sophisticated and awesome the gadgets in our lives, no matter how cool the that, our state of mind—or the what—always matters more. It determines the level of our ease or stress, and of our creativity or addiction. When we make this shift, our priority becomes the level of consciousness with which we are engaged.

We could see this consciousness as similar to the power source in any technology. The most advanced computer or sophisticated cell phone is fairly useless without a power source. Sure, we could use our non-charged computer as an end table or our cell phone as a paper weight, but they only come to life when they are plugged in or charged. The same could be said of our relationship to them. The fact that we can get online, download, listen, play, share, talk, send, and everything else is great, but like a technology without a power source, it is not all that impressive. What makes such actions really shine or not is the state of mind we bring, the presence in which we engage with them. When distraction, fatigue, frustration, or anxiety are engaging, we are like a cell phone without a charge. Our body’s only use is in keeping our chair warm.

In this tool, when we are zoned out in front of the screen instead of continuing to work, paying almost no attention to the what, we bring consciousness to our experience. We acknowledge, “There is little focus in my effort at this time. I am primarily engaged compulsively instead of creatively.” In this seemingly simple act, a world of possibilities opens. We have moved from unconsciousness to consciousness just in knowing what is engaging in that moment. From this, we can decide what action, if any, to take to increase the power source and to make our time more effective.

Soren Gordhamer works with individuals and groups on ways to live with less stress and more  effectiveness in our technology-rich lives. He is the author of Wisdom 2.0: Ancient Secrets for the Creative and Constantly Connected, (HarperOne, 2009). A more complete bio is on his website at: http://www.sorengordhamer.com/About_Soren.html.

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