Kerri Richardson

Last week, I was witness to the incredible power of nature and the discomfort and joy of being almost completely disconnected from email, internet, and telephone.

As I sit quietly in my family room, I hear the wind howl and pick up strength slowly and consistently over the hours. Having heard no predictions of hurricane-force winds, I just think it’s an exceptionally breezy evening. That is until I hear strange noises outside.

I look out my dining room window and see roof shingles on the hood of my car. “Well, that can’t be good,” I think.

The lights begin to flicker and I know it’s just a matter of time before the power goes out. I shut down my computers, gather up flashlights and candles, and prepare for the disconnect. Fifteen minutes later, lights out.

Since it’s just after 11 PM, I figure, no big deal. I’ll just go to bed.

I wake up the next morning, eager to see my bedside clock blinking to indicate we are back in business. No such luck. Still no power. This goes on for about 36 more hours. At first, it’s a fun adventure: Go out to breakfast, chat with the other locals about how crazy the weather is, head to the beach at high tide to watch the waves crash onto the parking area, drive around to see the result of Mother Nature’s power.

As I drive, I’m charging my cell phone in my car so I can still conduct client calls. (That didn’t happen). The initial excitement dies down and I head home. I lose track of how many light switches I habitually flick on, or go to respond to emails (thank goodness for my iPhone). Not so fun anymore.

Once again, I let go of my resistance and find I’m able to settle into the peacefulness of being almost entirely disconnected. I read at night by the soft light of a lantern. M and I chat about the day as a candle flickers on the table. It’s quiet. It’s still. It’s heavenly. Other than the house being a bit chilly, this isn’t so bad after all.

OK, I’ll admit it. I do a happy dance when I get home Saturday evening and see the outside light shining brightly. But I do intend on doing my best to introduce more of that stillness, that peacefulness into my days by disconnecting a little bit more.

Give it a shot. It’s enlightening (pun intended).

Does everyone have one? A box or a drawer filled with watches whose batteries have long since died? I forget about mine until I go to choose a watch to wear, always to find my only option is gold. What’s a girl to do if her outfit calls for a sporty one? Or, heaven for bid, silver? Usually I opt to go without. But I walk away frustrated.

Sure, there are worse problems in the world, but sometimes it’s the little things like this that just nag at you. Every time I open that drawer in my jewelry armoire – enter aggravation.

I remember one December years ago, Missy got the batteries replaced in my favorite watches, wrapped them up, and gave them to me for Christmas. It was one of the best gifts I’ve ever received. She laughed it off, thinking it was silly to wrap them up like they were new. What she didn’t realize is that what she actually wrapped up in those boxes were thoughtfulness, relief, evidence of my really being seen by her, and the remedy for the consistent loss of energy around the dead watches. I felt like I had gotten a huge energy transfusion!

Hmm, my intention was to write a quick, quirky entry, but perhaps there’s a moral to this story after all. Maybe consider this a sign to think differently about the gifts you give others this holiday season and all year ’round. How about instead of a gift card or candle, there’s a project you could help a loved one finish – or begin. Is there an event your Mom, Dad, brother, sister, or best friend would love to go to, and going with you would make it even more special? There’s no gift more precious than your time (and if my batteries were replaced in my watches, I could tell you the time).

Image by alexkerhead