On Thursday evening, 17 January, my computer froze in the middle of a project I was working on. Just like that, everything locked up. I tried to turn the computer off. It wouldn’t turn off. It was frozen. I felt my heart sink and I felt helpless–I had no idea what to do.
John often shakes his head at the computer predicaments I get myself into. “I don’t know how you do it . . . ,” he’ll usually say. Then he’ll patiently help me sort out my situations until I’m up and running again. This time even he couldn’t fix the problem.
I spent all day Friday without my computer. John’s techies at work had at it. “I don’t Dare go home without this computer,” he told them. He was right. When bad things happen to my computer, it also freezes my heart. My computer is like my heart. It’s the center of my days, my work, my connections to others. My computer holds my words, my dead people, my living people, my dearest friends, my photos, my memories. It is my heart.
My computer came home Friday evening with John. They’d emptied it, wiped it clean, installed a new “operating system” and then poured everything back into it. I feel like I’ve had a heart transplant. I’m beating again, but not in exactly the same way. I’ve got to break things in again, feel the new flow of things. There are a few very important connections that are not yet reconnected. Like my mailing lists and email contacts.
I’ve now spent 2 days without computer connection to my friends and students. I feel very isolated and separate. I have a greater sense of my dependence on technology to stay connected to those I love and enjoy. I am so grateful for all the invisible things that happen behind my computer screens that keep me connected. I pray for those little parts and pieces all the time. I appreciate them. I hope they will be healed soon so I can carry on. I have work to do.