longing for a luddite lifestyle

so many dang screens...

“I guess we just live in a world where everyone spend a lot of time on their phones now, huh?”

I wonder out loud while riding the lift chair up to the top of the mountain noticing that one of the things I love about skiing is that everyone is doing the activity and nobody is on their devices.

I feel saddened for us all. I want that world not just for myself but for my kiddos. We will never go back to a world where humans are with humans without little machines in between.

This is just me wearing a hat I knit. That’s all.

When we had landlines, we didn’t expect others to be available to us whenever we wanted something from them.

You would call them and they wouldn’t be home. You’d leave a voicemail.

They would listen to the voicemail later when they got home and call you back when they had the time. Often a few hours later after spending time with their families, or later that week depending on the urgency of the call and the busyness of their life.

I’m divesting from the norm that tells me that my time and energy are always up for grabs.

I do not feel nourished by the expectation that I should constantly be available to others through my phone.

In fact, I often resent it. It stresses me out. It interrupts my ability to be fully present here and now. With others, or my work, or my mornings, or my writing.

About a month ago I turned off all notifications on my phone, much to the chagrin of the people most involved in my life.

I don’t like inconveniencing them, but honestly, it’s been worth it. I’ve agreed with myself to do it in spite of disappointing people because mental peace and being fully present in my life are some of the most important things.

(If they really need to reach me, they can always call me.)

I began wearing a watch last summer, to help myself not take out my phone to check the time.

I can tell you what I loved about a conversation, or something rewarding I did for work, or something sweet I noticed on my morning walk… that is where living takes place. Not on my smartphone.

I feel drained spending time in a world where my attention is for sale, and we’ve normalized feeling entitled to other people’s minutes and life force.

I need slowness and space and quietude to feel and hear my own thoughts. I need walks where I can indulge in watching the world.

Why does it now sound so bizarre to people that you might not be able to reach them for a day?

Everyone I’ve shared this with immediately worries “But what if there is an emergency?!?”

If there is an emergency, I imagine people will call me. As many times as needed until they reached me. And if they don’t reach me, I imagine they would call my housemate. Then my partner. Then my family or other friends…

This expectation of constant availability makes people feel handcuffed to their jobs. Handcuffed to the responsibilities that a proper human heart needs rest from now and again.

I think it keeps us addicted to social media or content platforms like youtube.

If you are afraid to go on a 20-, 30-, or 60-minute walk without your phone, ask yourself why.

Ask yourself if that feels healthy for you.

Ask yourself if the emergency you are worried about would actually be impacted by you not hearing about it for 20 minutes.

Ask yourself if the cost of missing out on everything you gain from 20/30/60 minutes without your phone is worth it? The openness that invites conversations with neighbors, the noticing now of flowers blooming, the overheard conversations of parents with little ones, the dog pet, the ominous murder of crows dripping with poetry in the trees overhead… the things you notice when you are not nose-down in a phone.

Ask yourself if having your phone on your person contributes to your happiness or your peace of mind.

Is it worth never truly being alone with your own precious time, energy, feelings, and thoughts?

If it isn’t. Interrogate the part of you that has normalized being available to apps and to night and day, on their schedules, in response to their wants.

If it is, good on ya! To each their own.

(not so) Tiny Gifts:

1. I’ve been slowly plugging away at Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer. It may be my favorite book of all time. It is the story I want to build with my own life. It reminds me of how I imagine my mom made love to the world. I could see it being a guiding tome I return to again and again. I’m sure I’ll mention it many more times :)

2. This podcast episode is medicine. It’s not really about bodies, but it is. It’s about a peaceful, radically self-loving existence. I listened to it while walking around the lake this morning.

3. I love bookstores with creeky, wooden floors. My favorite is Eagle Harbor Books on Bainbridge Island, Wa. My second favorite is Elliot Bay Books in Seattle, WA. The boards groaning beneath the feet of readers looking for their next adventure will always spark a sense of kinship within me.

4. A couple of days ago I dreamed of gardening. Specifically vegetables and flowers. Spring is definitely stirring.

5. This week’s song. May it dance with those sweet, dreamy parts of you.

Until (probably) next week ~ Theora