Missing here and now

When I was studying abroad in Scotland last fall, my phone was used only for emergencies and quick calls. But my laptop was my lifeline.

I got closer with my parents through hours on Skype, maintained contact with my American and Scottish universities through email and kept in touch with friends through Facebook.

Then, when I was outside, no form of communication mattered. Every time I made the 27-minute trek to the center of St. Andrews, I knew my thoughts would be uninterrupted and my knees would be bitten by the slant of wind.

The batch of students studying abroad this semester has been flown off for the fall. At this point, the university's Office of International Education study abroad advisers are maintaining contact with them to answer questions about course choices and schedules, Chris Klein, one adviser, said.

But this technological thread between students abroad and their advisers becomes a literal lifeline as well.

"Any time there is a situation of concern anywhere in the world, we write to the students," Klein said.

The OIE advisers receive frequent updates from alert systems, such as the State Department and health insurance providers, and communicate these details to students abroad when relevant, he said.

Times for travelers have changed. When Klein worked for the Peace Corps from 1989-1991 in Sierra Leone, cell phones were nonexistent, and the Internet was just coming into being.

"Part of the reason I joined the Peace Corps was that I wanted a remote experience," Klein said. "I had no electronic communication. It gave me more time then, than I have ever had, or ever will have again."

Klein said he had more freedom to read, write and enjoy introspection. I cannot imagine ever being as disconnected from the rest of the world as he was. I felt lucky to have the Internet and telephone lifeline to what was familiar - parents, campus, old friends - when I was abroad.

But why, when we're back on campus in Richmond, do so many of us act like our phones and computers are still our lifelines?

Here, I walk around feeling like I have an electric shock going up my arm half the time because of text messages. On campus this kind of communication can be a form of stress rather than a savior.

There is constant communication and planning. There is the stress of not keeping up enough with friends who are either in another state, or in another room in Richmond. There is perpetual noise.

When we are too busy staying in touch with people we cannot even see: What are we missing? What are we missing about the people who are right next to us, about the sight we could see if we only lifted our eyes from our phone or computer screens?

What are we missing about ourselves?

If I could, I would go back to the Scottish highlands for a day without a phone. I would traipse through the heather, where there would be no jazzy ringtones, no flickering of screen lights, no message vibrations.

There would be only the light of the sun dropping into the valley, and the only vibration to hear would be that of my own voice carried by the wind.