Fast forward to the past | We didn’t get it all wrong
Whenever I feel jaded by the pace of the world, I rewatch Back to the Future. Something about the feasibility of going back in time – back to “simpler times” soothes me.
It’s a very stoic, middle way, taoist, zen, dharma-aligned (pick your personal tonic of spirituality) philosophy to be ‘in the moment’ as it is, not willing it to be any different by accepting that change is the only constant. We suffer most when we resist what is. I find this to be true and on most days, and in many modern mis-alignments, I try to shape my outlook that way, tumbling like a shell in the surf. We are all subject to the waves.
You may ask – so why would you want to go back in time? We left a lot of shit in bygone eras – for good reason.
Our environmental negligence, normalised second-hand smoke, alcohol-numbed problems, and systematic exclusion of minorities and women – shedding these societal ills signifies a welcome march toward becoming collectively BETTER.
There is one modern affliction that makes me long for the ways we’ve left behind. It’s by no means a new observation – but I have found a sort of time travel cure for it.
I was in Woolies recently and I observed a woman in her mid thirties, her 2 year old toddler, sitting in the front of the trolley. To the handle bars of the trolley was strapped a steriestumpie-pink clip on housing for a tablet playing an animated cartoon. The screen was less than 30 cm away from the little girls face. She appeared totally unaware of her environment. Seeing that filled me with a sharp contrast of empathy for the mom needing to use this strategy to mitigate her own sanity and simultaneously it flipped a switch in me. I felt angered.
In my work with forest school I read dozens of scientifically backed articles on the influences of screens on children’s and adolecent’s development and mental wellbeing, as well as the impact on adult mental health and cognition performance.
But my anger about the little girl in the trolley was less about that mom’s coping strategy and more about the normative use of high-speed tech and screens always in our faces.
I may not have grown up like that but on most days my face is 30cm from a screen, often spending hours producing batches of quick-to-consume, 7 second reels.
I’m not even one of the many who feel overwhelmed by a deluge of WhatsApp messages and still, I loathe the expectation that one must be available to be contacted by all and sundry on what’s top of mind for them at that moment. I recently heard about a 9 year old girl who expressed concern at not being able to join for a waterfall hike with her family because she had 109 unanswered WhatsApp messages from her friends to attend to. That’s heavy stuff for a kid to deal with.
As an adult I struggle to ‘stop’, to switch off from the work aspects of the phone when I’m in the woods or seeking a quiet evening. The device’s all-encompassingness means everything is ‘on’ all the time.
Being contactable and “smart” has left me feeling fettered and dumb.
I take more photos in nature than I would like – for “inspiration”. It’s so pretty I can’t help myself. It leaves me looking less and capturing more.
Mid conversation juxtapositions in cars are always handled with: “Well let’s look it up”. There – it’s settled.
Drives to new places don’t require any pre-planning or attention given to the neighbourhood because I can just listen to the robotic’ British women’s ‘turn left’ while I also listen to a podcast. And so I notice less of my world because noticing isn’t required.
And whenever I reach to send my husband a message “I’m thinking of you”, or my mom: “need anything from the shops?”, I also have to ‘just quickly’ deal with the various brands I work with because it’s all right there – mixed together into a milieux of everything-all-at-once.
That night, my wall of anger instigated a change. Out from a box of bygones and travel trinkets I fished out my granny’s old Nokia. It charged up overnight (after not being touched for well over a decade) and, with a new SIM card inserted, I can begin to reclaim my quietude.
Much like the key invention of Marty and Doc’s Delorian, I acknowledge that my smartphone is, well, the flux capacitor, of modern day living.
But I’ve decided to veer away from it being my 24/7 phone, on me at all times. If I’m being really honest – what it is, in its most required state, is a Mobile Authorisation Device ( a MAD?!) – sending me codes, approve-it messages and security pins so that I can do the rest of my work and admin. Everything else my M.A.D. provides, when not viewed under the auspices of innovation, feels for me like a distraction, noise or a shortcut and a rouse to genuine productivity, learning or human interaction.
We learn languages better when we talk messily with other humans
We retain word definitions and language context better when we flip through the dusty pages of dictionaries.
We take in stories and experiences better when they’re longer than 7-30 seconds, and often told slowly with laughter over wine and a good meal.
We connect more truthfully face to face, where we can listen with more than just our mind.
Disagreements on band names, historical facts or general knowledge trivia almost never require being settled in the moment and, if anything, holding court for these nuanced disagreements makes us better conversationalists and more open-minded individuals.
I’d be willing to bet, I’ll even create better, more feeling-rich art when I make sketches and observations of the flower, rather than a photograph. And even then will be more likely to convert inspiration into action when I can swim in my own boredom and inanity again. These days, I can’t go 1 min on any social platform without being overstimulated and inundated by other people’s art or the plethora of courses that vow to make my art better.
Photo by Goashape Studio on Unsplash
My creativity is too fragile, too untethered a thing yet to handle seeing an entire world’s established output. I used to feel this made me weak. But I’ve noticed when I curb the input, my willingness toward output resurfaces.
And so, I’m currently undergoing an experiment of self. Considering the core functions and times where I need my phone, I’ve decided it can live mostly in my home office by my desk.
I’ve switched the colour scale to black and white and have acquired a mat screen protector – both very effective strategies in reducing the stimulus of a smartphone.
I check my WhatsApp only at my desk, the way I deal with email. A tiny handful of people have the number of my little Nokia for emergency calls or deliciously brief SMSes – ‘Get milk please’. ‘Gonna be 5 min late’. No emojis. No gifs. No check this vid on Facebook. And no boredom scrolling in queues. More importantly – when I now go out into the world on daily errands and nature walks, I am uncontactable.
As a recovering people pleaser, being uncontactable gives me reprieve from the obligation to be at beck and call.
I’ve also since purchased a vintage twin bell alarm clock online (yes, not all 21st century inventions are detrimental to our collective mental wellbeing) and in my mountain satchel is a sketchbook and a pen.
I’m looking into getting a map book for navigation, relinquishing Spotify to a home culinary companion and instead enjoying the classical radio station in the car, returning to room for my own thoughts.
I’m curious to see whether more analogue-oriented, self-directed living without prompts and on going dialogue will enhance my internal compass.
Look, don’t get me wrong, when we travel, smartphones make being able to have the everything-all at-onceness very convenient, and I’m not about to abscond any and all technological aids or innovation in all circumstances.
Understandably, many lives, many homes and many situations or lifestyle scenarios and types of employment cannot do without the myriad functionalities of smartphone technology. My necessity to change and ways of going about it are not prescriptive. Merely anecdotal.
I appreciate it’s not for everyone. If you like the way you feel and behave in your life with bigger screens, smarter phones and more digital connection, then you probably have stronger boundaries and mental wherewithal and I admire that.
But for me – this move feels right. As Maya Angelou says “ Right may not be expedient, it may not be profitable, but it will satisfy your soul.”
What my soul hungers for is to find the path towards living my most artful life and just maybe…fast forwarding to the past will re-generate all the very best things about truly ‘being in the moment’ .
Note to the angered: If you’ve read this and you’re feeling bothered by it, I want to tell you that sharing these reflections and observations didn’t come easily. It came with anguish. But I’m open to engaging in dialogue about this topic because it really interests me and matters to me and we can all only benefit from learning about perspectives we hadn’t considered. Please leave a comment and let’s chat.