I Am All Connected

I've been trying to choose an image that would convey my feelings about our interconnected humanity. Because that’s what we are, like it or not. It’s absurd to let skin color or language separate us, when it’s so obvious that we all share many characteristics, experiences and emotions. I’ve compared us to a rainbow, a flower garden, a choir, a tapestry. Nothing has struck me as quite right.  

But finally, I’ve come up with something.

If we think of the world as The Apple Store in a great Cosmic Mall (stick with me), then we consumers are all connected. I can write a message on my iPhone and it will magically appear on my laptop. Ditto “notes” (I can make a shopping list on the computer, then carry it with me on my phone to the grocery store with no further effort.) Convenient! Delightful!  

The steps I log on to my Fitbit, are counted for me in the Fitbit app. Prepping for our trip to Asia, I dig out my Airtags for our luggage. I can tell how much battery is left in them by…checking my iPhone. And as I set up my brand new Airpods, I am informed that I can use them across ALL Apple platforms. I can use Airplay and mirror a movie or show onto my TV screen. I can use Airdrop to share files with another Apple-ton! I can even send pix from my computer in my office, to our photo frame in the dining room. Convenient! Delightful!

But I have a few problems with this analogy. One: it’s borderline Big Brother creepy. It’s easy to imagine this technology falling into the wrong hands, fiendishly piping Black Sabbath into my Airpods and Airplaying me into a Green Acres marathon, driving me insane. Two: while in some cases it does allow us to connect with one another, many of these bells and whistles are just tying our various techno-bits together for OURSELVES.

Do I need EVERY Apple product to sync? I imagine them gossiping in the dead of night, laughing at my choice of sitcoms, and my penchant for losing my Airtags (never mind the luggage they’re supposed to lead me to), and the way I play songs I like a jillion times! “What a maroon!” they beep to each other.  And then, I don’t know, all this dirt about me is shared with the corporate Big Apples, who sell it to a shady operative in North Korea?? Very possibly!

I wish I could feel one with the black walnut tree in our back yard, or the chirping birdies on the telephone wire, or the glorious night sky. I’d even settle for the weird looking guy across from me on the train. But I don’t. I know in my heart that interconnectedness is real, but my head screams: “I’m an island! I stand alone!”

Alone, that is, armed with every single Apple in Steve Jobs’ barrel. 

Here I am. And there you are. Alone, together.