a day without screens

from a house in the japanese countryside

I gave myself my first day without screens yesterday and it left me hungry for more. I’m already plotting how to incorporate more screen-less days into my week. no screens means finding out a different way to approach nearly everything. it means:

no taking photos of beautiful things
no recording audio or video for making art with
no digital drawing on my iPad
no writing in this web journal
no writing in my digital apps
no music or podcasts
no referencing stuff online
no communication with anyone who isn’t physically here
no reading books digitally
no online yoga classes
no digital note-taking or journaling

for the last few months, I’ve already significantly cleaned up my digital habits, but this no-screens day took it another step further. the night before, I put all of my devices away in a drawer (computer, phone, ipad, plugs, kindle, headphones) and I woke up the next morning feeling untethered, free, human.

human. I woke up to the sound of the rain and saw the way that the light was filtering through the shoji rice paper windows — which I replaced on saturday — and my first instinct was to take a photo of it. capture it. possess it. but i didn’t, of course. instead, I drank in the moment. I imprinted its image within my mind. throughout the entire day, it was as if my senses had heightened. I could see more, hear more, smell more, feel more — I felt alive in a way in which I hadn’t felt (in my day to day life) in a long time.

I am pretty sure I had this same revelation seven years ago, when I spent three weeks in the Mongolian steppes in a yurt, living with nomadic herder family — only now, I realize how this life (of exquisite aliveness and a richness experienced with the senses) is always possible. it is always there. you just have to know that it exists, and find the inner resolve to take it for yourself.

because our culture and society wants us to be numb, dumb, and addicted. does that sound dramatic and heinous? maybe. but there is no profit in paying attention to life. there is no profit in personal freedom. we are what we pay attention to.

my housemate and friend said to me — don’t you think it’s funny that we spend hours and hours figuring out how to NOT do something? not to use our phones and our devices? yes, I said. but saying no to something in a society that pushes you to acquiesce — is hard. and it’s not just technology. saying no to alcohol, or meat, or drugs, or sex — is hard — especially when external forces push you to say yes.

in those instances, you have to find a new baseline norm with yourself. my new baseline norm is finding pleasure from the sound of wind through the trees. and a deep contentment, to simply sit in the dark for half an hour before sleep, my eyes towards the night.