And when you wake up ready to say,
“I think I’ll make a snappy new day.” 

Fred Rogers

INTRODUCTION

It’s time to wish virtually everyone (including strangers on the street) a hearty “Happy New Year!” Being social creatures, we often actually mean it, and when most of the folks to whom we extend that hope-filled greeting reciprocate, we get the warm and fuzzy feeling of inclusion. We now have a common purpose, at least before the buzz of the New Year goes flat like the last few ounces at the bottom of the Dom Perignon bottle.

But the buzz hasn’t been killed, Friends; it has found new life, resuscitated by the New year’s resolutions that 40 percent of American adults have by now written with shaky hands on crumpled napkins decorated with balloons. These goals, resolutions, promises, vows, call ‘em what you like, are some variation of the usual suspects in the resolution lineup.

For most of us, though, these threadbare self-improvement schemes have become all too familiar because they all too often result in varying degrees of failure for the Resolvers.

(Device Use Disorder in the smartphone age.)

INTRODUCTION

Before handheld phones got smart, they were called “cell” phones. What a wonderfully ironic name for a device that, as Apple boosts its IQ, locks so many of us into isolation. Which leads me to today’s topic: Are these ubiquitous machines, and the social media they inject into our heads, addictive?

Some self-styled Masters of the Tech Universe seem to think so; a number of them have tried to limit their own kids’ screen time to protect their vulnerable noggins from the apps other Techies cook up in their coding cauldrons.

Yet, despite mounting evidence to the contrary, many Tech Masters aggressively deny that their products can be dangerous or addictive. To unpack this conundrum, let’s look at some studies, read what the Masters themselves say about their products’ potential for teen harm and addiction, and then take an at-home addiction test.

(Mindfulness and the Spin of the Ball)

The first skill needed for the inner game is called ‘letting it happen’. W. Timothy Gallwey, “Tennis: Playing the Game.”

In my cozy, book-lined blog workshop, I have been trying to write a post on meditation and its first cousin, mindfulness.  Because I am a neophyte practitioner of these time-honored arts, I decided to start with a subject that I know more about: tennis. What has that time-honored sport got to do with mindfulness, you may ask? Please read on.