Start, stop, continue: Halfway through a phone fast
Halftime at the very real game of swapping my iPhone for one that calls and texts
Tonight, I sat on my friend, Rebecca’s couch with a cup of tea and Sju sorters kakor (seven kinds of traditional Swedish cookies). In the candlight of advent with a snoring golden retriever two rooms over, we debated why reading separately (even from different books) near someone feels like togetherness, but plugging into a device, especially with headphones, feels lonely.
“It’s like someone is literally holding their hands over their ears to block me out,” she said. “When you’re reading in the same space with someone, you might remark ‘Oh, this part is really good, want to hear this paragraph?’ or make little sounds or check in every once in awhile.” This is all a bid for connection. When we are plugged in to our devices, there is no turning toward. It’s all separateness. My world, not our world. Her husband had asked her if she wanted airpods for Christmas. “No thank you!” she said vehemently. “I’ve read Farenheit 451!”
“And in her ears the little Seashells, the thimble radios tamped tight, and an electronic ocean of sound, of music and talk and music and talk coming in, coming in on the shore of her unsleeping mind.”
― Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451
I’m not saying our minds are forever unsleeping or we’re playing out a dystopian scifi novel, but today, at a stoplight, I was tempted to check my iPhone (again, recent days have caught me reaching for it and even using for navigation in a pinch). In this stoplight moment, I looked around at the cars around me and every single person in their car was on their phones, the kids I could see in the school bus were scrolling away, and even the jogger on the street had paused a run to take out their phone to check something with airpods in their ears. I felt, immediately sick to my stomach.
At a review, you might use the tool Start, Stop, Continue. Halfway through this fast, I reflect:
START
I want to finish strong and eliminate the temptation of my iPhone. When at work, I will leave it in my bag. When I am walking, I will walk. I will not have two screens going at the same time.
STOP
I will stop teasing myself when I blunder a text or my phone dials too loud. Subtle self-deprecating humor is a sign that something about this embarasses me. That I’m different.
CONTINUE
Leaving my phone in designated area (charging station, not with me while working) helps set me up for success. Not bringing my phone as “back up” if going on a run or hike and just being in nature, meditating in silence, and doing one thing at a time — when folding laundry, fold laundry — feels better. At the beginning of this fast, I felt like time multiplied. What do I want to focus on with this freed up time. If not the phone, what?
Attention on:
-The people I’m with
-My breath
-Nature around me
-The sounds I can hear
-Colors I notice
-Who might be left out
-Someone who is going through a hard time
Here’s to the final push with this new phone and rededicating myself to the experiment.