2 ways I'm spending less time on my phone.
In the past 30 days, I’ve changed how I interact with my email and my phone.
With two swift decisions, I’ve added new boundaries which remove previously accessible pathways to my inbox.
Because spaciousness and getting outside matter to me. My peace of mind matters to me. And I’m bothered by the observation that the email app on my phone is a place I can—and do—turn to in moments when it is absolutely unnecessary.
Checking my inbox has become a wonderfully effective distraction while standing in line at the store, waiting at a red light, “relaxing” on the couch in the evening…
WTF? When did checking my email become a form of relaxation?
I refuse.
Here are the two life-changing digital boundaries I’ve implemented:
1. I deleted the email app
I thought about it for about a week without pulling the trigger. And then one day I thought, “what am I afraid of? What is the worst that could possibly happen?”
Someone will need to wait on my response. That’s it. Not so bad.
I deleted my email app about two weeks ago and the relief is palpable.
I still find myself picking up my phone to do something. But I only go on IG when I have a precise purpose to be there, I don't play digital games, I only read the news briefly once a day, and I don’t have email. There’s only so many times I can check my text messages.
What else is there to do on this thing?
Happily, nothing that really interests me.
I put my phone down and go outside. Sit down with a book. Pick up my guitar.
I can foresee certain instances when temporarily re-installing the email app will be practical and valid—perhaps while traveling without a computer?
For the most part, I don't need it. We don’t need it. We lived without this shit before.
We do not need constant access to our email inboxes.
2. I turn off my phone for 24 hours every Sunday.
I call it a Digital Sabbath. A day of rest.
Sabbath literally means taking Saturday, or the 7th day, off. It also innately implies a day for religious prayer and practice. But in light of my personal devotion to connecting with The Sacred, I think it counts.
Sabbath and sabbatical share the same etymological root, meaning "characterized by rest or cessation from labor." As a noun, a sabbatical was originally a yearlong absence granted to university professors every seven years. Sounds pretty good. But how does one plan for a year off from labor, let alone a single day?
On Saturday night, before I go to bed, I power my phone down. I take care to plan accordingly. I remind Ben and my parents, who I’m the most likely to communicate with on any given day. I take care of any time-bound logistics beforehand. During the day, when tasks arise in my brain that would normally lead to picking up my phone, I jot them down on a post-it and leave it on my desk. These days I don't really require an alarm—the birds outside achieve that quite nicely, as they get started this time of year around 4:45am. I leave my phone off until I wake up Monday morning, at which time I power it back on, then immediately turn it on 'do not disturb' until I'm ready to engage.
I haven’t immediately hit this one out of the park. I’ve already learned through trial and error that I must block out my calendar as a recurring event every Sunday so I don’t schedule things. But sometimes I'm obligated or moved to schedule things. In that case, I interact with my device as minimally as possible. I remind myself that nobody is awarding me a perfectionist medal.
I keep my eye on the prize: Not only is this 24 hours an opportunity to refuse shopping, working, catching up and other tasking—ultimately this is a time for communion.
What an act of kindness it would be to set aside one day a week in my schedule to do nothing but commune. A hike in the woods, sitting in silence in my garden, playing guitar for 2 hours, enjoying a long qigong practice, making a meal with my sweetheart, reading a book.
Rumi said there are one thousand ways to kiss the earth... But it’s cumbersome as fuck to kiss the earth while holding an iPhone.