“What if everything you ever wanted isn’t what you actually want?”
—The Minimalists
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A Week Without My Smartphone
How a week without a smartphone taught me to rethink my relationship with tech
By Conor Mitchell
I’m a confessed control freak. Despite my strive for Stoic-like peace of mind, I occasionally fall below my standards. Since dedicating the next two years of my life to doing freelance writing, my primary devices (iPhone and MacBook) have taken on a new level of significance in my life. Before leaving my old job, these trinkets were just that. Now, with my career depending on the internet, these things are necessities. So when my brand new smartphone began operating by itself, I lost my shit! All control was stripped from me, stolen by hardware—I had no hope of fixing myself.
Left with no other choice but to relinquish my control, I sent it away for repair, leaving me without the device I rely on for much of my day to day life. Once my initial (admittedly pathetic) grief was over, It dawned on me that this may yet hold a valuable lesson that would benefit me down the road. I never expected withdrawal symptoms, but just hours after returning the smartphone, I began to feel what I can only describe as “ghost buzzing” on my leg, emanating from the pocket I usually kept my phone. This incident made me question the level of dependency one must-have on a smartphone, for a person to feel the device’s presence, even if it’s not there.
My second musing came some days later while drafting this very article. I noticed that I hadn’t checked any social media in days. Thankfully, the addictive nature of social media has never held much sway over me, but I usually check it two to three times a day. It’s a useful tool to promote my work, but due to a lack of app exposure, these time-suckers had remained unchecked. In our increasingly digitalized lives, we often fail to follow through on the beliefs and philosophies we hold in our regular lives. In response to this, digital minimalism has gained traction over the past year, thanks in no small part to Cal Newport’s fabulous book, aptly title Digital Minimalism.
I devoured the book voraciously, absorbing as much advice in anticipation of my smartphone’s return. With a new outlook on my digital life, I stripped my phone of all unnecessary apps, removing their eye-catching influence. I removed almost all notifications, quieting my life from the constant buzzing and bleeping of unimportant status updates. Minimizing one’s life isn’t a difficult task, but it does require intention and focus. Above all, we must have a reason for change, whether that stems from your own choice or the one dictated to you by necessity. Either way, never waste the opportunity to better yourself.
Winter’s Sound of Silence
10 ways to bring more peace and quiet to your days
By Alicia Woodward
Our end of the lake is frozen in suspended stillness. Birds and snowflakes flutter to the ground without a sound. A deer and her fawn pause motionless by the edge of the woods. Fir trees sway to the silent tune of a gentle wind. A red fox tip-toes down a frosty hill.
I wish I could encase the hushed winter scene in the round glass of a snow globe to gaze upon when the lake transforms into a carnival of summer activity.
American author Florence Page Jaques must have understood when she wrote, “I love the deep silence of the midwinter woods. It is a stillness you can rest your whole weight against. This stillness is so profound you are sure it will hold and last.”
I've always craved the sound of silence. Growing up, I was blessed with two spirited younger sisters. On inescapable car rides, I longed to stare out the window and daydream while they laughed uproariously, sang off-key and told grueling jokes. I’d wail, “Mom, make them stop!” Happily, the situation is no different now, though my tolerance has improved.
In exchange for getting to read stories and poetry all day, I spent most of my adult life in a small square room with a daily charge of more than 100 boisterous adolescents. Months after I retired from teaching, I still caught myself habitually “shushing” absolutely no one.
My own children were not particularly loud or rambunctious, but my daughter was born belting show tunes. Our home sounded like a never-ending rehearsal for the Tony Awards. Her more reserved younger brother often echoed a familiar refrain, “Mom, make her stop!”
Though I cherish seasons past, they help me appreciate and enjoy the deep silence of the midwinter woods. Each season has something to teach us; winter’s lesson lies in the beauty of her silence. Here are ten ways we can follow winter's lead to bring a little more peace and quiet to our days.
Speak with a softer volume and tone of voice.
Avoid complaining, gossiping, criticizing, babbling, arguing, and opining.
Turn off the television and other noise in your home.
Ride in the car without music or news.
Take a break from social media.
Pray or meditate in silence.
Engage in a quiet activity like a puzzle or game.
Stop being so busy.
Encourage children to enjoy quiet time.
Observe and learn from winter’s sound of silence.
A Little More of Less
A few other articles we think you might enjoy…
Let Go Of These 5 Things So You Can Love Yourself Again by Courtney Carver
Making Time by Emma Scheib
How Much Does Love Cost? by Karen Trefzger
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