I had four days without my phone...

It started in lockdown.

If I’m really honest, it started because there was someone in my life at the time that I needed to be in less contact with and so one day, I took a ‘tech free Thursday’ to have a break from my phone (and them…)

I turned off my phone on Wednesday night and didn’t turn it on again until Friday morning.

I had two rules for this day:

1. No tech - so no phones, laptops, tv or radio. But I did say yes to using an oven to cook.

2. I was not allowed to make any plans of how to use my day.

This second one was important - it was so tempting to think ‘ooh a day off tech - well first I’ll go for a walk, then I’ll make a cake…’ but I wanted to see what I naturally felt like doing in every moment. To really feel what presence was like.

And what I noticed was I wanted to use my hands more. I wanted to bake, cook, even clean the house! I took huge pleasure in doing a deep clean of the kitchen one day. I also wrote down recipes by hand the night before that I’d want to make, or use cookery books (imagine). I read my book. I made fires. I wrote the No More Corona comedy song. And I felt so relaxed.

I did tech free Thursdays every week for about the first 10 weeks of lockdown. Interestingly the reason I stopped was because one day a client of mine wanted to book a meeting on a Thursday.

This is how that conversation went:

BIg Tech Company: Can you meet on Thursday?

Me: I don’t use tech on Thursdays

Big Tech Company: [silence]

Me: Okay, fine, I’ll do Thursday.

Sadly, that exception got me out of the habit, but I didn’t forget the power of those times.

One of things that really struck me was how protected I felt on those days. Protected from any outside needs, distractions. Protected from any stimulus or comparison. Protected from ideas that, through the internet, can be followed and researched exponentially. I felt a peace.

Every time I need to come back to myself, I take a tech free day.

My housemates remind me of this if I reach overwhelm: ‘have a day off your phone!’ I let people know, I set an out of office, and then I put my phone in a box. As a freelancer I can choose a day where I don’t have meetings (it’s definitely best on days where there is no appointment in the middle of the day). On those days I wake up naturally, and have that same rule. No planning. Just ‘what feels alive NOW?’

I was so unbelievably lucky last week to have the chance to spend 4 days in the Scottish highlands with a friend and her family. I decided on arrival that I would switch my phone off for the entire stay. I let my housemates know and set an out of office for clients. The only thing I did was give my sister my friend’s number, in case of any news of the imminent birth of my new nibling!

And so for 4 full days I woke up naturally every day.

I moved slowly to make a morning coffee.

I sat and felt the breeze on my skin, and listened to a neighbour practising flamenco guitar.

I read THREE books (I read about 3 books a year usually…) and felt so inspired by one of them* that a whole new ramification of how I want to contribute to the world started to make itself known (yet, crucially, I couldn’t act on any of it yet - I couldn’t email people, or research courses or check with chat gpt if it was a good idea).

I journalled, practising Liz Gilbert’s ‘Letters to Love’ formula of asking Love each day what I should do or know (hilariously, by day 4, the reply I got was ‘ummm stop journalling and just enjoy this nature - we can get back to all the ruminations later.)

Eventually my friend and I would assemble for a morning swim in the sea, or a late brunch, or hike. The days felt spacious and unhurried.

In the evenings we sat and made music by the fire, shared songs, played cards. And before bed instead of scrolling, I read my book until I naturally felt tired.

As each day passed I felt the falling away, really - a detoxing, of the hyper-connection I usually feel to my friends, family and community. I absolutely adore how many people I have in my life, but sometimes it is a full-time job to keep up with WhatsApp, and every message sparks a million ideas and to-dos. I was free from all of that.

Ideas about life - what to do next with my work, where to focus, what is truly feeling alive - this was all still swirling around, but it wasn’t consuming me. It’s like it all got to air out like sheets blowing on the line after having been stuffed in the washing machine.

It was four days, but it felt like four weeks.

Spacious. Still. Present.

Of course, I was on holiday. I was away from responsibilities. I was in a beautiful setting. But the feeling of peace came mainly from not being on my phone.

So on the way back, naturally I was wondering how I could keep this up.

Can I do a year off social media? (A classic Sarah Weiler - make it a project!) Can I run a business by not being on Linked In? (I mean, I get very little business from Linked On, but it is useful…) Would Substack count as social media?
Can I stay in connection and not have WhatsApp? Can I find a healthier way to be in connection with my phone?

This is what was whirling around.

And of course once I turned my phone on I was back in the grooves of connection, with all the highs and lows that come with that. But I’m trying to put some things in place: I’ve got my phone on sleep mode so that when my alarm goes off most of the apps are still not available (I’ve set it so that I can still access maps and any functional things like Trainline or calculator).

I’ve tried to make sure I’ve at least had a cup of tea or coffee before I open WhatsApp.

My housemates and I have an evening ritual of singing kirtan before bed, and we’re trying not to look at our phones again after that.

I truly want to live in a way where I can stay in connection, and be open to work opportunities but in a sustainable way.

What ways have you found of doing this?

What boundaries do you put in place around your phone?

I’d love to hear in the comments.

Sending love, and have a wonderful day.

Sarah

*I read ‘How to Fall in Love with The Future’ by Rob Hopkins and ‘Everything, Beautiful’ by Ella Frances Sanders.