We switched cell phone contracts the other week, and I am now the new owner of a sleek new metallic-sea-blue LG slidey phone that does just about everything but toast my English muffin in the morning.
Or at least it would if I really understood how to use it.
As it is, I can call out on it, and I can answer calls...I can add phone numbers to the directory...but most of the rest of it is a great mystery to me, even after repeated trips to the manual for guidance. Last week, for instance, I took a photo of my lovely Friday bouquet, with every intention of e-mailing to myself and posting it here...but darned if I can figure out how to do what was a fairly simple procedure on my old phone. I thought I had activated my voice mail, but whenever I try to get into my mailbox I'm told that my passcode number (the same number that I used for my old phone)isn't the right one. Some menu functions on the phone I just avoid altogether, because I'm not quite sure what they mean.
This morning on my way to work -- having realized that I'd forgotten my new cell phone, perhaps unconsciously accidently-on-purpose -- it occurred to me that the spiritual life is like...well...a cell phone. There's so much good and useful stuff, so much potential, packed into it; but sometimes it seems easier and safer and less confusing to confine oneself to the most rudimentary actions.