For the first time in my life, the phrase "sun, sea and sand" has been swiftly followed by another phrase: "technology detox". Never have I felt such a need to disconnect. The irony of writing this on a blog to which I will share the link through a number of social networking sites is not lost on me. The disgustingly 'first-world problem' nature of this topic is also not lost on me. If you can help it, please don't judge. If you can't help it, then judge away; I'm already two steps ahead of you.
Over the last few months I've been increasingly aware of what's become a death grip on my iPhone. My love of books, pens and paper haven't protected me from slipping into what I vowed I'd never become: someone who feels the need to neurotically play with their phone, unconsciously swiping through apps and screens as if somewhere in between the neatly ordered folders lies the Holy Grail, covered in dust, lying next to a scribbled answer to world peace on the back of a receipt, a worryingly tantalising-looking year-old pizza slice, and the film the fourth Indiana Jones should have been. In meetings I've succumbed to a behaviour that again I always vowed never to adopt: checking my BackBerry for work emails whilst someone's talking to me. It's not just me either. I've noticed on the Tube that 70% of the people seem to be playing with a smart phone of some description. Seriously, have a look around you next time you're on public transport and count how many people are looking at the screen of a phone. In meetings the table is occupied by the blinking red lights of BlackBerries that just can't be left behind. A number of us appear to be orbiting around our phones rather than anchored within ourselves.
I don't have an issue with the technology or how people choose to use it. My job is all about helping a firm of lawyers understand how they can use social media tools in a business context and looking at how this intersects with the firm's culture. I'm a huge advocate of the Internet and social sites as learning tools, as invaluable ways of connecting people, and I love how smart phones have changed how we interact with, navigate, discover, and share the world around us. We've seen the power of it, for both good and bad. I know that it's just technology, and it's all about the motivations of the people that are using it. And I know of the fears around our 'always-on' culture and the arguments that it's rewiring the way we think and engage with one another. But it's certainly been a catalyst for changes in behaviour all around the world, supporting (and harming) a whole range of areas, from education to development to democracy.
But at a Social Business conference in 2012 — despite being hugely inspired by some truly mind-bending talks and it cementing that this is a field I'd like to forge a career in — there was a concept that struck home the level of our addiction: "the always addressable customer". This is someone who has multiple devices, all connected to the Internet, that they check frequently in multiple locations. Sound familiar? What are you reading this on, an iPhone, an iPad, a BlackBerry, a Macbook, laptop, desktop PC, some other device? Did you find your way to this post after it had been shared on Twitter or Facebook? Are you out and about, stuck on a train or bus, in your bedroom, at work?
I am that person. I can think of 5 devices I own/use that can be connected to the Internet in some way and allow me to share and find content (for the record: a Macbook, a netbook, an iPhone, a work BlackBerry and a Kindle. God help me, what have I become). I've lost count of the number of times I'll open up Twitter during the day just to see what's going on and whether any useful articles have been shared by those I follow, or unlock my phone and browse around with no real purpose or task in mind.
The things I've found and experiences I've had off the back of always being connected are countless and (nearly) all positive: a lovely summer festival in Hampstead I would otherwise not have known about, finding out about the Science Museum showing the last Dark Knight instalment on 20 July, discovering articles and tools that are invaluable for my work, nurturing professional relationships and friendships that may have otherwise faded away, opening up my mind and thinking to areas of learning I'd have otherwise never discovered, etc etc etc.
So I'm not saying we need to all turn our devices off and stop sharing. What I am saying is that I've forgotten what it feels like to not be connected, to not be contactable. To have some headspace to completely free my mind of distractions and totally immerse myself in the task at hand, whatever that may be. To truly enjoy wandering a city, or reading, or writing, or watching a film, or having a conversation with a friend, without feeling the need to check my phone every five minutes for phonecalls, texts, or some other notification. The freest I've ever felt was on a bus in Malta on my own, my friend having returned to our apartment an hour before. No-one knew where I was and my phone was deliberately switched off. It felt amazing. It felt calm and peaceful. It felt like the volume on all the background noise and buzz had been turned right down. No, it felt like it had been eliminated completely. On the Tube I've started to try and practice 'the art of doing nothing' every now and then, rather than always playing with my phone or reading. A few months back I had the revelation that playing the piano is easier if I actually concentrate on what it is that I'm playing, without letting my mind wander elsewhere. It sounds obvious, but it's easy to forget. The notes flow a little smoother, the melody comes a little easier, my fingers are suddenly more nimble. You feel connected to the music you're playing and only the music. It's the same if you're writing, or reading. Rather than dividing your attention, if you completely focus your mind onto what you're doing at any one time, it's suddenly so much easier, so much clearer. It's like a scene framed through a camera's viewfinder snapping into focus, or the clarity of vision once you've put your contact lenses in. Or finally hitting a radio station in amongst the white noise.
So as of Wednesday, I will be on a much-needed holiday. I'll be doing the normal: sun, sea and sand. I'll have the 'devices' that I normally take on holiday with me: iPhone, camera, Kindle (the BlackBerry is most definitely being left at home). But for the first time, I'll also be making a conscious effort to not be digitally connected. My iPhone will hopefully be in airplane mode for the majority of the time, used just for music. The various things that I've started writing are going to be printed off and I'll be working on them in one of my numerous notebooks with one of my numerous pens. The Kindle's 3G will be switched off, and is only a backup in case I finish my current book (The Age of Wonder by Richard Holmes. I can't recommend it enough). I'm hoping for early morning/late night walks by the beach that's a stone's throw from our villa. And more than anything I'm hoping to calm the constant whirring that goes on behind your eyes when you know you're connected. To switch off to switch on. To free up some space to muse and let the mind wander down whichever path it chooses to take. To become immersed in books, writing, sun, and good company. This is why I've resisted the urge to litter this post with hyperlinks, to put a relevant video at the end, to try not to add to whatever other distractions are trying to tug you away from finishing (if you've made it this far, well done and hello. How's it going?). The video I would have shared would have been 'Yelp: with apologies to Allen Ginsberg's "Howl"' if you have time to look it up on YouTube. Now, where did I put my phone, it's been at least ten minutes since I last checked it...
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