It was when my sister and I were doing just that—sitting on a park bench reading our books—that these questions were raised in a startling way. We were sharing a week of holidays in Victoria, B.C., to celebrate my sister’s fiftieth birthday. It was a cool day as we walked the ocean side, breathing in the unfamiliar sea scents, watching the boats and sea birds, and feeling the rhythmic pulse of the waves.

After our long walk, we both felt like getting lost in another world, one laid out for us in our novels. But since we had such limited time to enjoy the sea, we decided to read on a park bench overlooking the ocean.

In front of our bench was a path for bikers, joggers, and people walking their dogs, so "traffic" was heavy. No problem for us. We happily tuned out the steady stream of people and sat together companionably, relishing our reading.

Suddenly, we were interrupted by a loud cry: "Omigod! What a sight!" Startled, we looked up to see three people staring at us.

"How delightful to see this! You’re reading!"

Yes, we’re reading. So what’s so unusual about that?

"Are you sisters?"

Yes, but no one had ever guessed that before. My sister is as fair as I am dark. How did they know?

"Because you’re both reading. We don’t see anyone just reading anymore."

Still perplexed by this strange sight, one of the men brightened as he had an idea as to why we might be reading: "Are you in the publishing business?"

"No-o-o-o. We just like to read!"

What ensued was a fascinating discussion about how far our society has journeyed from the ability to just "be."

These three lovely people were obviously educated and articulate, and they would have grown up in the same years we did. Yet they were so struck by the sight of two people calmly reading books on a park bench, that they wanted to take a photograph of us! None of us had a camera, however.

Loathe to break away from the conversation (and this strange sight), they said they’d be back the next day. If we were there again, they would immortalize the moment with a photo.

Well, I’ve pondered this conversation much since then. I began to watch people more closely, and sure enough, our three friends were quite correct. So often, when I saw two people walk down the street or share a meal at a restaurant, one would be on the ubiquitous cell phone.

And on my journey home, as I waited in the airport and then flew home, I saw few people just reading or chatting or "being." Instead they were pulling out their cell phones, typing on their laptops, or watching the movie on the plane.

My park bench experience had brought home to me the shocking reality that our society has changed so drastically in the past fifteen to twenty years that simple human activities and ways of relating are being eroded.

But it’s too easy to point my finger at others. We don’t have cell phones and laptops in Madonna House, and watching a movie is an infrequent treat. But I have to admit that I am all too often lost in my own form of multitasking and actionitis.

How often my mind is on another topic when someone is talking to me or during a homily or talk! How often I say to myself, "I’d love to take some time in the chapel this afternoon, but I’m just too busy. I’ll go tonight."

Then of course, when evening comes, another task takes my attention.

A couple of years ago, when I had turned 50, I began to fear that I was starting the slide into Alzheimer’s. I was forgetting too many things.

My doctor heard my concerns and gave me a little memory test. His conclusion? "There is nothing wrong with your mind, but perhaps you are not present to each moment, focused on what is before you. Is your mind in too many places at once?"

He was right.

Yes, I have shared in the multitasking way of living. So my discipline these days (and it is a discipline) is to live more in the present moment.

This sheds a new light on one of the foundation stones of our Madonna House spirituality: to honor the duty or the sacrament of each moment. Now I begin to understand.

So when is the last time you went through a day without turning on the radio or television or booting up the computer (or is it the iPhone now)? When is the last time you listened to the birds singing or delighted in the squirrels scampering up the trees? When is the last time you sat quietly with the Lord or with a friend or spouse—or with yourself?

When is the last time you read a book on a park bench? If you are doing that, there are three people in Victoria who would love to meet you!