People I know squawk about technology in the same way people lament weather, gas prices and the cost of things. Technology is a complicated thing to manage, and essential.  I used to think new technologies like blogs, social media and video imaging were trendy things of the moment. Now I believe they are essential to the creative life, powerful tools that connect artists and writers with audiences, give them new ways to tell and market stories and stimulate creativity. I do not love technology, but I love the things my Iphone and Ipad are leading me to do.

They have stimulated my imagination, protected my careers as a writer and offered up radically new and effective ways to tell my stories Managing these things is another matter, and I am working hard to figure that out.

When you get a new machine, you get other things too. Spotty support, new passwords and serial numbers, new chargers cables, new usage and data bills. It is a rare day that something doesn’t fail to work the way it should work, and the process of solving these mysteries is time consuming and aggravating.

My new video surge is a good example.  I love doing it, and it is a great evolutionary tool for me and the kind of writing I do. If you can put up videos of Rose herding sheep and Lenore meditating in the snow, you’re making some noise.

But there is always the downside. I’ve had continues video software problems, and a whole new set of skills to master, from buying equipment to taking videos to editing and transmitting them. The beauty of a thoughtfully executed still photograph is sometimes in vivid contrast to a herky jerky hand-held video. There are other questions: how much of a life to show? When does imagery stop being entertaining and becomes invasive? How much time to spend checking on views, moving images, answering a whole new batch of e-mail and messages, screwing around with software and commands that are supposed to be simple but aren’t.

So my decisions on managing technology.

At dusk, I turn all of it off, except the blog. Nights are for talking to Maria, having dinner, talking to friends, reading or meditating. Before I got to bed, I like to blog a bit. Very spiritual for me, grounding and healing.

No humans. I won’t appear in the videos and don’t show images of Maria. I won’t show the inside of the farmhouse, or the center of our lives. I take photos of my life on the farm, and the animals, and I see videos can flesh out and support these stories, make them vivid and real. I loved taking videos of the storm. Was able to capture the experience better than words or a still. Lenore’s snow meditation was a great use of video, I think.

I want to share some parts of my life, but not all parts, and not all the time. A fluid boundary that is never completely clear or resolved. I don’t discuss my personal life beyond what I publish in books or the blog. Never through e-mail.

I check e-mail twice a day, not all day. And I use it for business. I don’t debate, respond to angry messages, argue about what I write or discuss it with people I don’t know.  I don’t carry a cell unless I am leaving the farm.

I find ways to speak to the people in my life on the phone or in person. I call my editors, agent, friends regularly, so they know how I am and vice versa, and they can hear the sound of my voice. E-mail can so easily be misconstrued and misused.

I check in on the news once or twice a week. I read a newsmagazine or the Wall Street Journal online, which I pay for. I am not interested in regular updates on the tragedies and troubles of the earth. What goes into one’s consciousness comes out, one way or the other. I have left politics aside, and the endless and combative coverage of it, which I consider disturbing and unenlightening.

I don’t watch TV.

I meditate twice a day, at least. A grounding, centering antidote to the power of technology to invade, stimulate and disturb.

Technology is a challenge. In my life, it needs to be considered very thoughtfully, in the same way I believe getting a dog is not a moral or impulsive decision, but a thoughtful one based on the very personal nature of our lives.