What if we let our phones die?

& my constant search for slower living.

A few weeks ago, after having a spontaneous dinner in Georgetown with my partner, I let my phone die in my pocket. I didn’t realize it had happened, but when I took it out to write a reminder to myself (as my type-A self does more than once a day), I found it unresponsive to my touch. I expected to feel an immediate sense of anxiousness wash over me, but instead, I shrugged and put it right back into my pocket. I took off my Sabahs and let my feet touch the grass, turning my head upwards to the sky to take in the dusky purple and pink hues of the sun setting behind the gothic university architecture.

Honestly, I felt liberated. To have these few moments of true detachment felt calming in a way I have grown to be unfamiliar with. The past few weeks of work have been…challenging, and waking up to check my phone first thing in the morning has creeped back into my life. A few years ago I identified that having my phone by my bedside was a deep anxiety trigger, and so, I traded in my phone alarm for a daylight clock, and began charging my phone by the kitchen, far away from bed. My rest improved a million-fold. But, as life does, things came up, and tousled my routines. And my phone is back on my bedside.

When my phone died a few weeks ago, I took the time to reflect on how happy it made me feel. How relieved I was to have an excuse for not keeping up with my emails, or answering text messages that have been piling up, a trait that is very unlike me. I know, from the few times my phone has died without access to a charger, that I am actually in no rush to have it be charged—ever. I’m tired of being a slave to my device. Most times, I don’t want to be find-able. Especially now that I have the added stress of a full time job. Of course, there is the exception of calling loved ones to be sure they’re doing okay, since most of us Americans choose to fly from the nest at 18 and move as far away as possible because—that’s what we do(? more on this later). This aside, there is nothing happening on social media that is more interesting than physical reality—and the ice cream cone I might enjoy while taking in this gorgeous sunset.

I scribbled in my notebook when we got back to the car.

What if we just let our phones die? And when they die, that signals the end of our day? What if we closed up our work in that moment and took the drained battery as a cue to go for a walk, or have a glass of wine with a neighbor— or actually take a moment to smile at the person we probably would’ve passed, unnoticed, in the street? What if we truly honored our days off, using them to rest, and reset. And what if we took more of them— more than is “permitted” or “normal”—fighting the system for what we know in our bones to be right? I want to spend time taking in the sun, having watermelon by the sea, and listening to the birds. Is that not what being a human on this planet is all about? What if we prioritized living over working and celebrated the simplicity of being over professional success? Maybe I’d feel more fulfilled. Maybe this is the life I am supposed to be living.

I have so much more to say on the topic of rest. More to come, but for now, take care of yourselves, and maybe let your phones die.