Put Down the Phone; Pick Up a Handbell

As I near the end of my six years serving on the HMA Board, I have reflected daily on our mission and vision statements. I keep them posted in several places as a constant reminder of the core purpose of this great organization. Lately, I have been considering how this mission and vision extend beyond my role on the Board, shaping my professional career and personal life as a whole.

Our mission is to advance the musical art of handbell and handchime ringing through education, community, and communication. Our vision is to unite people to create a diverse community in which handbell musicians of every skill level realize their full potential through a musically respected art form.

While our mission and vision reflect everything I have worked to achieve alongside my fellow Board members and the HMA staff, our true potential lies even deeper. We have a unique opportunity to transform the very culture of handbell playing. With that future in mind, I want to share a few core beliefs that have guided my journey.

In his seminal work, Amusing Ourselves to Death, Neil Postman warned that we were not being oppressed by a “Big Brother,” but rather sedated by a “Trivial Culture.” Today, that prophecy lives in the glowing rectangles always in our hands or pockets. We have transitioned from a word-centered culture to an image-centered one, where every life event, whether it is a great meal or a memorial service, is curated as “show business.”

We live in an age that is immediate, fragmented, and performative. When our dopamine receptors are constantly fired by the endless scroll, our capacity for deep, sustained attention withers. We have become, as Postman feared, a people “dumbing ourselves down” by trading meaningful discourse for mindless amusement.

We hold the antidote to this modern malaise. The handbell table is our sanctuary of sovereignty, autonomy, and self-determination—a place for setting personal boundaries. If the smartphone represents the ultimate tool of isolation masked as connection, the handbell table is its antithesis. To play handbells is to engage in a radical act of independent thinking and physical presence through genuine human connection.

In my work with middle schoolers, I see the digital intrusions they face daily. Depression is rampant because they are never truly “off.” In my 30 years of teaching, I find myself often saying, “Have a day.” Sometimes, asking a 13-year-old to have a “good” day is an impossible request. The weight of their digital social lives is too heavy. By saying, “Have a day,” I am acknowledging that just existing and making it through today is enough; a “good” day can come later.

I think of a former student, Emily. Years after she left my classroom, she posted online that she finally understood what I meant by “Have a day.” It moved me deeply to know that the philosophy we practiced in the music classroom helped her navigate a dark time. Hopefully, this little mantra gave her the strength to move through the shadows until the “good” days returned. In the rehearsal room, we find a refuge where students can simply be.

In addition to teaching music, I also serve as the technology director at my school. While I value the vast world technology opens to us, playing handbells is the key to retraining our dopamine-addicted brains to function without a screen. It moves us away from what John Taylor Gatto described in Dumbing Us Down—a system that often strips away self-reliance and genuine community.

While the digital world pulls our minds in a thousand directions, handbells ground us through the physical and emotional demands of a musical score. It is a tactile journey that

requires us to be fully present, offering anyone a necessary refuge where they can find purpose through the shared mastery of this unique art form.

In the social media sphere, “community” is often just a collection of echo chambers and verbal vomit. In a handbell ensemble, however, you cannot “unfollow” the person ringing the G4 or A4 next to you; you are inextricably linked. As the great conductor H. Robert Reynolds posits in Some Things I Believe, music is a vital expression of the human spirit that requires a commitment to something larger than oneself.

As members of Handbell Musicians of America, we hold more than just instruments; we hold a lifeline. We offer a space where show business is replaced by shared artistry and where the “dumbing down” of society is countered by intellectual and spiritual rigor.

Let us invite the world to put down the phone and pick up a handbell or two. Let us remind our neighbors that while a screen can show you many views of the world, it takes a community to be in the world.

Stay present. Play handbells more. And for today, just have a day.

As I near the end of my six years serving on the HMA Board, I have reflected daily on our mission and vision statements. I keep them posted in several places as a constant reminder of the core purpose of this great organization. Lately, I have been considering how this mission and vision extend beyond my role on the Board, shaping my professional career and personal life as a whole.

Our mission is to advance the musical art of handbell and handchime ringing through education, community, and communication. Our vision is to unite people to create a diverse community in which handbell musicians of every skill level realize their full potential through a musically respected art form.

While our mission and vision reflect everything I have worked to achieve alongside my fellow Board members and the HMA staff, our true potential lies even deeper. We have a unique opportunity to transform the very culture of handbell playing. With that future in mind, I want to share a few core beliefs that have guided my journey.

In his seminal work, Amusing Ourselves to Death, Neil Postman warned that we were not being oppressed by a “Big Brother,” but rather sedated by a “Trivial Culture.” Today, that prophecy lives in the glowing rectangles always in our hands or pockets. We have transitioned from a word-centered culture to an image-centered one, where every life event, whether it is a great meal or a memorial service, is curated as “show business.”

We live in an age that is immediate, fragmented, and performative. When our dopamine receptors are constantly fired by the endless scroll, our capacity for deep, sustained attention withers. We have become, as Postman feared, a people “dumbing ourselves down” by trading meaningful discourse for mindless amusement.

We hold the antidote to this modern malaise. The handbell table is our sanctuary of sovereignty, autonomy, and self-determination—a place for setting personal boundaries. If the smartphone represents the ultimate tool of isolation masked as connection, the handbell table is its antithesis. To play handbells is to engage in a radical act of independent thinking and physical presence through genuine human connection.

In my work with middle schoolers, I see the digital intrusions they face daily. Depression is rampant because they are never truly “off.” In my 30 years of teaching, I find myself often saying, “Have a day.” Sometimes, asking a 13-year-old to have a “good” day is an impossible request. The weight of their digital social lives is too heavy. By saying, “Have a day,” I am acknowledging that just existing and making it through today is enough; a “good” day can come later.

I think of a former student, Emily. Years after she left my classroom, she posted online that she finally understood what I meant by “Have a day.” It moved me deeply to know that the philosophy we practiced in the music classroom helped her navigate a dark time. Hopefully, this little mantra gave her the strength to move through the shadows until the “good” days returned. In the rehearsal room, we find a refuge where students can simply be.

In addition to teaching music, I also serve as the technology director at my school. While I value the vast world technology opens to us, playing handbells is the key to retraining our dopamine-addicted brains to function without a screen. It moves us away from what John Taylor Gatto described in Dumbing Us Down—a system that often strips away self-reliance and genuine community.

While the digital world pulls our minds in a thousand directions, handbells ground us through the physical and emotional demands of a musical score. It is a tactile journey that

requires us to be fully present, offering anyone a necessary refuge where they can find purpose through the shared mastery of this unique art form.

In the social media sphere, “community” is often just a collection of echo chambers and verbal vomit. In a handbell ensemble, however, you cannot “unfollow” the person ringing the G4 or A4 next to you; you are inextricably linked. As the great conductor H. Robert Reynolds posits in Some Things I Believe, music is a vital expression of the human spirit that requires a commitment to something larger than oneself.

As members of Handbell Musicians of America, we hold more than just instruments; we hold a lifeline. We offer a space where show business is replaced by shared artistry and where the “dumbing down” of society is countered by intellectual and spiritual rigor.

Let us invite the world to put down the phone and pick up a handbell or two. Let us remind our neighbors that while a screen can show you many views of the world, it takes a community to be in the world.

Stay present. Play handbells more. And for today, just have a day.

Greig Ashurst
National Board President