The Scent of Digital Flowers: A Lesson From Solitude

It’s funny what you start to notice about the world around you when you unplug and steal away from your smartphone and laptop and any other electronic device. You realize that you are all alone without those mechanical extensions of our brains, our tentacles to reach out to the rest of the world. It is a little unnerving to make your mind sit still and to try not to reach for an electronic device to entertain and keep you occupied. Thirty minutes is a long time! I could stand it if I were ready to take a nap but prescribing yourself a half hour of solitude for a writing assignment for school can be…well, excruciating---at least that first 5 minutes that I am trying to convince myself I can go without my phone and looking up Twitter to see if number of followers I have has increased.

After the first few minutes of being unplugged, unwired, de-interneted, I noticed that the buzzing in my head got a little loud. It wasn’t really a buzzing, per se, but more of the sound of air and a loud silence. It took me a few minutes to calm my mind, to try to unfocus on all the things that were competing for attention. The dog, my housekeeper, my phone, my half-done projects, “Hubs”, the phone calls, the texts, and the temptation to read articles from my Twitter feed. Social media is famous for capturing hours of millions and (now we know) billion(s) of people who hop onto their Facebook apps to see what everyone else is doing, presumably to connect with friends who are actually on the app at the same time.

But - I think - when have I actually gotten on Facebook to see if someone else was online for a live chat or instant message exchange? Hardly ever to never is my answer. I like to see what other people in high school are doing these days without actually having to ping them.  Finding out one of your friends is pregnant on Facebook is fun and it makes you feel great to be one of the first hundred to congratulate her. But, wait a minute… do I use Facebook for what it was envisioned for?

These are the thoughts that came into mind when I cut myself off from electronics. Funny enough, all I thought about were things related to my phone or my laptop—ultimately, electronics. The electronics was still with me!  They also worked after I turned them off…  I thought about the time before I got my first iPhone, and before that, my first laptop. I was such a newbie in the electronic gadget world! As with many of us that have kept up with the times and got a cell phone, laptop, or with what many now are calling phablets (phone+tablets), I have forgotten what it was like to just unplug and smell the roses, or the orchids or the pine cones. I have been more enamored with the high-resolution pictures my iPhone 6+ and my Macbook Pro can show me of eternally blooming blossoms, and eternally breathtaking sunsets to notice and appreciate the real things when they are happening right in front of me and are in danger of fading away. Same thing with digital images of my loved ones and myself. We tend to hang on to the representations of us, the flattering Photoshop or Instagram-filtered selfie photos we like to put out there to represent us—or what we think is a good likeness of us in the most flattering light. But I pondered in solitude what my life would be like without those inventions, without this handheld extension of myself.

I wondered who I would even be, how I would see myself if I didn’t have my phone… Would I be a better person because I would take time to smell the roses? Would I have more friends? Or would I just be a better friend because I would pay more attention when I spent time with my friends, because I couldn’t take for granted I could just ping them on social media or via SMS. I wonder how my life would be different if I resisted the electronic and digital age. It was a lot to think about and not all of it was positive. I feel I silently and unknowingly gave up my independence to my cell phone, while I was mistakenly celebrating that it had given me more freedom and access.

Thinking about the little things I stopped noticing is a reminder of the things I gave up.  This kind of thing can make anyone a little nostalgic. I became nostalgic about the time I had a longer attention span, when I had better recall of facts and stories. I remember when I was less desensitized to news and felt new inventions were something I could stay curious about for at least a few weeks to a few months. Nowadays, I can purchase the latest and greatest app that promises to make my life better only to forget that I even had it before I learned how to use it. To date, I have almost 300 apps from the Apple store and all of them are awesome. I just wish I took the time to learn how to use them before buying the next one. Maybe someone should create an app that clears out old apps that you haven’t used and puts them in a bucket or folder for recycling... Or a smart app that categorizes them by utility. I know I can do this myself and have tried. But I have more than 20 music-making or music playing apps and every time I try to set up folders I just end up wanting to categorize them even more. This takes too long and before I know it, I abandon the task to make a call, check my email or Twitter or texts.

I think I need to slow things down a bit. I know you can’t slow time, but maybe what I mean is that I want to care more about the time I have, and not be in such a hurry for the next thing. What this solitude experiment has taught me is that slowing down and unplugging is valuable because of the feedback you give yourself. It’s the self-reflection that is at first jarring but ultimately rejuvenating. Taking stock of where you are and taking a look inside requires space and time for yourself. Being alone used to mean that I could check my phone without being rude to anyone but it has become clear that the person I have been rude to most is myself. Not taking the time to unplug made me feel like I was on the train that never stopped. It always had to go forward trying to get somewhere but ultimately always leaving somewhere to get to the next. And all you see out the windows is time and images flying by, without smelling the orchids behind the glass. Even a picture of the most beautiful orchid on my iPhone could not replace its scent or texture when you come up close to it and hold it in your hand.  Such is the power of solitude away from electronics. Taking the break from my phone made me feel more human and connected to everyone else that is on this train. I implore anyone who has not taken a break from electronics to try it some time. Your own revelations might bring you closer to yourself and ultimately to your (forgotten?) humanity.