The Art of Stillness — My First Digital Detox

Inspired by travel writer Pico Iyer, I decided to try a 24-hour digital detox.

I have journeyed to nowhere for the first time in my life. The 24-hour trip took me to a paradise of thought and wonderment, to a universe where life sits peacefully still. For an entire day, I hid every device away from view and lived life at its core.

I did my first digital detox.

For years now, I have been intrigued by the idea of detoxing from the digital world. Far too often, I find myself perplexed and frustrated by the constant strain it has on me; the ubiquitous flow of information bogs me down.

The idea came at the hands of one of my favorite travel writers, Pico Iyer. If you haven’t read his stuff, I highly recommend Video Night In Kathmandu or The Global Soul. Or to watch any of his various appearances on Ted Talks.

However, the book that brought this journey to life was The Art of Stillness. In it, Pico uncovers his fascination with stillness and the idea of journeying to nowhere.

As an ardent global traveler, a man who has spent his entire life wandering every corner of the world as a travel writer, he discovers solace and contentment in doing nothing. He visits a retreat in the hills outside of Los Angeles and spends three reclusive days in a minimal cabin, doing nothing.

“But what I discovered, almost instantly, was that as soon as I was in one place, undistracted, the world lit up and I was as happy as when I forgot about myself. Heaven is the place where you think of nowhere else.” — Pico Iyer, The Art of Stillness

It is a refreshing look at the contemporary digital detox, and it served as my inspiration to finally give it a try.

I decided to spend 24 consecutive hours without a single device. I would focus on being absent from the world of constant information to be more present in my own life and ambient environment.

My 24-hour Digital Detox(7 pm — 7 pm)

My 24-hours of stillness began at 7 pm, where I dove head-first into life without devices. I turned off my computer, mobile phone and unplugged the television for safe measures.

I kept a journal of notes along the way to record the candid range of emotions and ideas that visited me. Here is what came out of it.

Hour 1: The exhilaration courses through every channel of my body; I am excited, thrilled at the prospect of this journey and adventure to nowhere. I have unplugged all devices that usually make up a large portion of my living time and will rely on nothing but my imagination to entertain me for the following 24 hours. Already my head is racing with ideas for writing prompts and new publications.

Hour 2: I enjoy a wonderful dining experience in the apartment with my wife, talking about real things — real life. I chew my food slowly, savoring every little bite while counting the seconds that wash over as every new spoonful finds its way into my mouth.

Hour 3: I begin to shuffle with my thoughts, ruminating about a million different things. The first thought of my phone enters my mind: have I received any messages or notifications from the outside world? Is my Medium profile blowing up? I turn the pages of a book, but the words and sentences don’t compute. My mind is running in a million directions. I haven’t reached a destination of stillness yet.

Hour 4: I sip tea while looking out the window at the darkness of night, swiveling my head from the balcony to my wife, who sits patiently on the sofa next to me. She has accepted a challenge as well, 24 hours without social media, and is looking at me with beady eyes and a disgruntled irritation. (He’s my problem now, I have to deal with it)

We talk about nothing and everything. The conversation meanders into areas we have not discussed for years, and it is soberingly refreshing.

Hour 5: As soon as my eyes begin to tingle, I give in to the natural proclivities and follow my body to bed. The image of drifting off into the vagaries of sleep brings me joy and comfort. There is no YouTube to tuck me into my frenetic cycle of sleep tonight. Twitter will not be transposing me into a cloudy state of consciousness. I will fall asleep all on my own, without any distractions.

Hour 11: I wake up at 5 am feeling refreshed. My watch reads 5:15, yet my mind is racing with ideas suddenly. While turning over in my pillow, I materialize new writing thoughts and give in to dreaming about the day that is soon to arrive. But it is far too early to be storming out of bed. There are plenty of hours of stillness still; I must return to my dreams.

Hour 14: Finally, the sun forces me out of bed with its aggressive rays of life. I am well rested and enjoy lying around in bed with little agenda. I allow my mind and ideas to wander some more before the call for coffee crawls to the front of my brain. More ideas for articles; my mind brims with writing thoughts. I write them all down for the next rainy day.

Hour 15: Coffee and nothing else. Just perfect. I dare you to give it a go.

Hour 16: The morning hours pass without any inclination or ambition to reach down to my devices. There is something raw and visceral in this space, something awful and sinister in those electronic gadgets. I begin to count down the hours with angst, wishing that the day was longer. The pull to return to the connected world is present but unwanted.

I find a rotting banana hidden on top of the refrigerator, under a plastic bag — a leftover from the previous week. Without any procrastination, I discard the evidence and clean the entire area on top of the refrigerator. To know me is to understand that that is a strange occurrence. One day earlier, and I would have left the fruit sitting until the stench was undesirable; I might not even have noticed it in the first place.

But in this moment of enlightened stillness, unhinged from the constant pull to be somewhere or do something, I was completely free and attentive to the need of my refrigerator. I wanted to clean it; I was excited to find purpose in my actions around the house.

Hour 17: Thus began my cleaning of the apartment: another unlikely occurrence. A wave of satisfaction rushes over me as I walk to the laundry room downstairs, content with my actions and intentions.

I spend the early hours of the afternoon sifting through old traveling bags and boxes neglected over the years. I even enjoy cleaning the dishes.

Hour 20: I read peacefully on the sofa; the following hours are the peak of my experience. I feel complete contentment and joy in lying around and doing nothing while sporadically ingratiating myself with a good book. I look out at the river that washes out the afternoon rains while discerning the beauty in my surroundings.

Hour 23: I pace around the house with slight anxiety. An ambiguity washes over me as I ponder looking at my cell phone while simultaneously dreading the termination of my 24-hour experience. I am intrigued at what awaits me when I tune in to the world again yet frightened to return to what I know awaits. The exhilaration of this experience has changed my mindset completely. I am convinced that the future holds more of this detoxing.

Hour 24: My last-minute thoughts quiver with a strange sense of dissatisfaction and dread. In this last mile to the finish line, I lack the adrenaline of gratification and completion. I fear going back, and the angst pushes me into the idea of extending another 24-hour cycle. But I know that real-world matters await and negotiate with my future self; digital detoxes will become healthy habits from now on. I plan on embedding them into my life and begin to imagine the ascending possibilities of challenges that await. Could I go an entire week without my phone?

What I learned from doing a digital detox

It was easier than I thought.

In my yearning to step away from the screen, it was easy to predict that the effects of a detox would be overwhelmingly successful and satisfying. However, the pull it had on me was far greater than I initially imagined.

Four days after the experience, the effects of the detox still resonate with me. I can bring myself back into the mindset and tranquility present during those 24 hours, even now. I long to return and have made plans to commit to future digital detox challenges.

I found a heightened sense of creativity throughout the day. I enjoyed laboring through responsibilities. I found comfort and enjoy in human conversation. I felt happy and alive, and happy to be alive.

The lessons I learned I could have easily inferred beforehand. Being still is powerful and allows one to connect to the world that is around more assuredly. It allowed me to feel peace and serenity, as intensely as any trip I’ve taken around the world.

“In an age of constant movement, nothing is more urgent than sitting still.” — Pico Iyer, The Art of Stillness

I urge you to give it a try. Take a momentary pause from life and explore what it feels like to be still without distractions. I have tasted this good fruit and am looking forward to returning to it soon.

Thank you for reading.

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