I have, perhaps belatedly, entered the point in life at which I no longer have standing weekend plans to drink with friends. Not coincidentally, I’ve been doing more in the way the contemplative and outdoors-y. A few weekends ago, my girlfriend and I went for a hike on Monument Mountain in Great Barrington, Massachusetts. (Credit where it’s due: we got the idea from MassLive’s list of the best hikes in Massachusetts. We’ve tepidly declared our intention to hit them all this spring and summer.)
We opted for the mountain’s most direct root, looking for a challenge. But despite being advertised as strenuous, the trail was mostly tame, its steepest segments obviated by the installation of stone steps. We had a pleasant, if not effortless, ascent, punctuated by this or that detour to examine our surroundings.
After an hour or so, we reached the summit. Monument Mountain isn’t very tall. At a little over 500 meters, it’s about half the height of Massachusetts’ tallest peak, Mount Greylock. But that bit of relativity is less salient when you’re looking down on soaring hawks and the slow-motion lives of the humans below.
It was a beautiful day, and we weren’t the only ones out. In the background, two young women were taking turns photographing each other for the ‘Gram, the perfect receipt of an afternoon well spent. “I’m gonna do some sunglasses on, then do some sunglasses off,” one said. I immediately wrote down the quote in a text to Megan, who laughed.
Every now and again, something like this makes me think about the growing importance of online media — in business, culture, love, politics, and other areas of life. Social media is a mixed bag, but the advantages of scale it offers are pretty much uncontested. I wonder if we’ll reach a point at which the significance of online life — where 10 million can attend a concert and content can be redistributed in perpetuity at low marginal costs — eclipses that of our offline lives. If awareness is a necessary component of significance, it’s hard to see how it wouldn’t.
A few months ago, my company hired a consultant to help us attract sponsorship for an event. As part of their information-gathering, the consultant asked us what the “IRL impressions” of the event would be — a term that mimics social media analytics and that both parties eventually decided probably meant “attendance.” This struck me as at once amusing and depressing: the internet’s centrality is such that it must now be specified when we’re talking about the real — no, physical — world.