Will we miss the thrill of the search?

Will dusty bookshelves and tattered vinyl covers continue to hold space in our lives and homes as we increasingly embrace technology?

I went to a friend’s house the other day. It was decorated in the contemporary-streamlined style we see so often these days, clean and intentional. I couldn’t put my finger on what felt like it was missing until after we left and I arrived back home to sit at my desk, which is situated next to floor-to-ceiling bookshelves containing hundreds of volumes — museum exhibition catalogues, poetry books, old journals, and eight copies of This Side of Paradise with different bindings and covers I’ve picked up over the years. And then I went to my dining room, where there’s what I call my “rock and roll wine nook,” home to my turntable and our family’s vinyl collection (and a not-too-shabby collection of Texas wines, if I do say so myself!).

My home all of a sudden felt cluttered. And I realized what was different about my friend’s home — no stacks of books or vinyl records were in sight. They didn’t have stacks of papers, magazines, or journals anywhere that I could tell. Not even printed photos adorned the walls— just minimalist art. It made me wonder, is this increasingly what homes will look like? Will we trade art-wrapped hardcovers and records for screens and bluetooth speakers? Have many people already done this, and am I late to realize it?

Of course, it would make sense. Everything is accessible from our smartphones — the world’s library of music and film at our fingertips. All we need is a smart TV and Spotify to amass an incredible, encyclopedic collection or even to curate a one-of-a-kind personal library. All we need to do is scroll through Instagram to see our favorite photos.

It made me start to think about some bigger questions. Technology is in our lives — and it can do incredible things. But I wonder about the pace we embrace it — is it healthy? It seems like we more readily adopt a new app or device, as long as it promises some benefit, than we do changes to many other things in our lives. And we do so without weighing the pros and cons, eyes set on perks but not potential consequences. We love to be early adopters and be “in-the-know.” But each time we let more tech into our lives, what are we giving away?

What are we giving away?

There are some things we most certainly want technology to do for us. But what about the things we may not even realize we’ll miss when they’re no longer around? If we don’t take time to think about those things, we don’t make fully informed decisions about how we live our lives.

One thing that’s hard to come by these days is a good-old-fashioned search. With Google, ChatGPT, and Amazon doing so much of the research and work for us, it’s often not hard to find what we are looking for — whether it be an answer to a simple question, a piece of furniture with the exact dimensions to fit your space, the one missing card in your collection, or a rare first-edition of your favorite novel. Seek — and you will find.

I remember hunting for these types of items for long periods of time. Finding a rare b-side in a record store was like an epic quest, that could keep you and a few friends occupied for days, weeks, even years. You’d check every store in town, call up numbers listed in the phone book for neighboring towns, visit shops while you were on vacation — all with one reward in mind. It was a journey fueled by hope — and there was a thrill in not knowing whether you’d get lucky enough to find what you were looking for — the “thrill of the search.”

I spent my youth excited to run my fingers over the edges of record covers in old bins, to page through dusty hardcovers in the stacks at the library, to call up the comic book store to see if they had the new Sailor Moon manga I couldn’t read but could satisfy my curiosity to continue the story, or to open a new pack of cards at the chance it might have the holigraphic Charizard.

Beyond searching for something specific, there was also the thrill of not knowing what you might find in a local shop. “Browsing” was its own pastime, and it led you through physical spaces in your community and to places where your neighbors gathered, rather into some isolated online list. Curiosity would lead you into art galleries and antique shops and little boutiques of all kinds. It could even guide you into new relationships.

These days, I often research every shop and restaurant I visit to get a sense of what’s there before I even decide to go. That decision, driven by a sense of efficiency and convenience and fear of wasting time, might be costing me something more — the joy of surprise.

I’m proud of the things I collect. They are things I can touch, smell, see and listen to. I surround myself with art, music, books, and photos to remind me what I’m passionate about, to remind me of the things and people and places and kernels of wisdom that inspire me. They are things that I went into the world to experience and to obtain through contact with makers, artists, entrepreneurs, and neighbors. They are markers of days well spent, letting myself follow my curiosity to discover something unexpected. They contain memories of loved ones, stories to be cherished. They are beautiful.

These tangible objects just feel different than an image on my phone or even in a nice digital photo frame. They are multi-sensory. They are cause for pause and they encourage reflection in this fast-paced world. The clutter in my house sometimes makes me feel scattered, but it also reminds me of what I love the most.

And right now it’s reminding me that I love the thrill of the search and the delight of coming across something I didn’t anticipate. I think I’m ready to build more of that back into my life.

Will we let technology replace the search for something to treasure, or can we allow convenient tech to reveal to us how special the thrill of the search actually is? Do we really want to aim for efficiency in all circumstances, or do we want to find those moments when time slows so that we forget that it is passing? Do we want to be prepared all of the time, or to let surprise sweep us out of the ordinary? We likely want some sort of balance.

Amazon hasn’t killed the local bookstore. The rise of streaming runs parallel to a rise in vinyl sales and production. I am optimistic. But I do think I will be more adamant about asking myself, ‘when I accept and use new technologies, do the benefits outweigh the costs?’ I will be more intentional not only about safeguarding my private data, but about safeguarding the activities that fill my heart.

Thanks for reading this little musing as my mind wanders…Do you have any anecdotes about the “thrill of the search” to share?