From Deprivation Springs Enlightenment: Living Without a Television

From Deprivation Springs Enlightenment: Living Without a Television

I never understood the religious practice of fasting when I was growing up in a Jewish home. To me, fasting was "very hungry" with a fancy name, and it would not bring about enlightenment, but instead an obsession with food. And Yom Kippur still finds me guiltily cheating, an act I justify by eating only small quantities of beets, which I detest.

However, I have developed an appreciation for other deprivations. When I moved to New York City, I decided not to buy a television or engage in any television-like activities (DVDs, youtube, etc.) in my apartment. My reasoning was that I did not need a TV when Manhattan was my playground.

But for a long time, life without a TV was not pleasant.

Yes, I did have the Internet and Manhattan and work and friends, but there always seemed to be nooks and crannies of time when I was alone and bored or upset or angry or lonely, and it seemed that only TV could possibly distract me.

There were withdrawal symptoms: whenever I saw a TV in a store or at a friend's house, my eyes were transfixed to whatever was on the screen and nothing could break my concentration. When friends discussed TV shows, I felt left out.

On the other hand, there was that challenge of living without, and the feeling of being different and, by definition, special. And so, I persevered.

And, over time, I began to appreciate what I did have. I like my own company and I know how to make myself laugh. I go to more plays and museums, I read (a little) more than I used to.

I discovered interests I never knew I had. Music is now my coffee. I sing and dance to Sheryl Crow or Soul Asylum or Frankie Vallie every morning.

And I have discovered I love to write, after a 20-year break from the practice. My blog is a psychoanalyst that is available whenever I am, for free. I write three or four entries per day -- entries that are trivial or babble or make sense only to me.

I write in those little nooks and crannies of time that I normally would have reserved for that addictive box with those moving images.

I write out of deprivation.