I recall returning home a while back after spending time at a recently built rental home on the Oxnard, California, beach. It had a wonderful view overlooking the harbor and ocean. You might think I would miss the incredible views and location, as well as the house, brimming with technological toys. But I didn’t. It was a relief to return to our simple Richmond abode, built in the 1940s.
Yet the thing I miss the least is the shower. Instead of stepping into our bathtub enclosure that has an old-fashioned standard shower head, in Oxnard there were six knobs to try and figure out as well as two shower heads. When we visited Seville, Spain, a few years ago, I faced a similar situation. Assuming I could figure out how to use it, I innocently stepped into the shower and turned on something that shot out a burst of ice-cold water. I flinched so strongly it caused my feet to go out from under me. In an attempt to break my fall, I ended up wrenching my shoulder. It took a year and several months of intensive physical therapy to recover from that adventure.
This time I played it safe, refusing to enter the stall until I knew exactly what to expect. I suppose I should have been thrilled with so many options. But I didn’t care about reading the dial next to the shower head that told me the water temperature. The numbers didn’t make much sense to me. Nor did I want to worry that I might accidentally turn the wrong knob and freak myself out again. All I wanted was a simple shower.
I must admit, though, I enjoyed raising and lowering the living room and kitchen blinds with a remote. Just pressing one button usually did the job. And I suppose it was interesting to have a gas fireplace that emulated a real one. It’s designed to only light up if you don’t want heat too. (The owners had installed something similar in the downstairs bathroom above the jetted bathtub. Go figure!) So I could sit there on a warm summer evening and pretend I was watching a real fire.
None of this makes much sense to me. I’m not exactly a Luddite. I love my laptop and android phone. I bless the ease with which I can research almost anything in minutes by calling on AI. I wouldn’t give up any of these technologies. But I’m realizing I do have limits. Some things don’t need to be jazzed up or taken into the space age. I’m perfectly happy to climb into our shower, turn on the water until the temperature feels right, and not have to worry that I’ll turn the wrong knob.
Something deeper seems to be happening here. Instead of trusting in our senses and internal temperature gauge, we’re allowing our tools to rule us. Tech trumps touch. A new authority rules our lives, and it enslaves us. Big brother is no longer just watching but also controlling how we live. We could become so conditioned to believe in the inauthentic (the pretend fire in the pretend fireplace) that we won’t recognize the real thing when it occurs. That worries me more than anything.