I cut the digital leash. It felt awesome.
My dog Basil loved to go to the park. We’d arrive, and he’d strain at his leash until I unsnapped the clip. Then he’d bolt away as if he’d been dreaming of this moment for days. He probably had been. Longing to be free — that feeling is innate.
That’s finally how I’m feeling with my cellphone left behind: unleashed. I woke up on day 8 of my digital detox and left my phone sleeping in its charging station. I meditated for 20 minutes (no assistance needed today from Headspace or Calm, thank you very much). I brewed a strong cup of coffee, had breakfast with my family, and really paid attention to my son as he told me about the goals he scored in Saturday’s soccer game. Then I sat by the fireplace in my bathroom and pajamas, and I read Pico Iyer’s “The Art of Stillness,” cover to cover. In it, he pointed out that sitting still for 30 minutes is only 3 percent of our waking hours, and yet it helps us bring calm and perspective into the commotion of the world:
The point of gathering stillness is not to enrich the sanctuary or mountaintop, but to bring that calm into the motion, the commotion of the world.
Before I’d noticed, I was almost an hour past my first scheduled email check of the day. It was time to get some work done, so I opened my laptop and pursued my tasks with intention. I sent emails I knew I needed to send to move projects forward. I created a new file and began filling it with ideas and quotes for a workshop on avoiding burnout that I’m giving this fall. Then I put away my computer, started an Italo Calvino novel, and took a quick nap.
That afternoon, I went to my son’s school for a parent-teacher-student conference, which he led, reading from a script he’d prepared with his fifth-grade teacher. With nothing pulling my attention away, I felt that I truly saw him. Where had he become such a mature young man? At the end, I tousled his hair and said goodbye.
I stopped at Trader Joe’s on the way back, bought dinner, and and walked through the neighborhood with a full sack in each hand. Not once did I wonder how I could reach into my pocket for my phone without putting a bag down, because it was still on the kitchen counter. I’d left my phone at home. I’d been unleashed, and I practically skipped home.