I go on a walk this morning. No phone. Just keys and a wallet.
I got back from a trip earlier this week. Overseas. I notice how much people use their phones. The country is high-income but still developing. Everyone’s on one. In restaurants, on motorbikes, in the middle of the road. It looks the same everywhere now.
Back in Manhattan, I’m usually deep in it. Messages, meetings, tabs open, AirPods in. Half my day disappears into reaction and reflex. Notifications, reminders, guilt. A voice pushing me forward: you won’t fulfill your destiny if you don’t check your phone.
—
Today, I leave the phone behind.
Same route as always. A little chilly, sunny enough. I walk toward the pier. My hand keeps drifting toward my pocket. I forget it’s not there. The wallet tricks my brain into thinking it is. Every quiet moment makes me reach. Sometimes I want to call someone. Sometimes I just want to scroll.
At the coffee shop, I wait in line with nothing to do. I sit down, more awkward than usual, and stare out the window. People. Cars. I wonder if I look suspicious to the barista. A few minutes pass. She hands me a cup and I keep walking.
I start noticing things. Construction noise. Shuffling feet. Conversations I can’t quite hear. People with headphones in, eyes down. People on phones. People standing beside each other, silent.
Usually that’s me. Phone open, AirPods in, thoughts blunted. But today I’m in it. The day feels slower.
—
Time moves differently when I’m not distracted. Not better or worse. Just slower. Like it has weight. Usually I rush through the walk. Today I don’t. Same path. Still takes thirty minutes. Feels like more.
I think about video games. When I’m into one, same with a book or a movie, I’m present. I’m in it. Even if I’m sitting still. My phone isn’t like that. It’s passive. I’m not doing anything. Just avoiding the stillness. Filling it with content I won’t remember tomorrow.
YouTube is the worst. One video turns into five. I forget what I even meant to look up. By the end, I’m left with a quiet kind of bloat. Like I’ve eaten too fast and still feel empty.
Then I wonder why work feels impossible. Why I feel tired before noon. But I don’t stop to ask what’s necessary and what I just said yes to because it was easy. I call the day overwhelming without checking which parts I invited in.
Music sounds better when I haven’t been using it to wallpaper over everything. Sharper. Like my ears are interested again.
I consume less when I’m not distracted. I don’t chase the thing I want right now. Don’t try to learn everything in a day. Don’t buy the thing. Don’t order the food. Usually, if I don’t get it, it feels like something’s missing. But if I do get it, it barely lands.
—
Is it better to be stressed and numb than bored and clear?