These posts were published in 2009-2011 on wediscoverstories.com. Now, I’m the kind of guy that took conference calls during my honeymoon. At beautiful oceanside restaurants. Over incredible Maine lobster. While my new bride waited patiently alone as I roamed the beach looking for a better signal.
And, I’m the kind of guy that live-tweeted my wife’s extensive labor and my daughter’s miraculous birth. Causing great stress for one of my girls and nearly missing the arrival of the other.
And I’m the kind of guy that left my phone on vibrate, “just in case”, during my grandmother’s recent funeral.
In fact, I don’t remember the last time I didn’t text or tweet or habitually check for emails on a Blackberry or iPhone or ancient Motorola. I simply can’t remember a time before I was accessible 24 hours a day.
So this week, in the haze of post-event decompression and post-funeral introspection, I set aside 48 hours (44 if I’m being totally honest) and I unplugged. And I learned some things.
I learned that by being available 24 hours a day I was actually unavailable in my physical life the same duration. My friend, riCardo, calls this “ghosting” and believe me, I was a ghost.
I learned why my two year old daughter repeats herself three times even when I’m paying attention. It’s because that’s the magic number of repetition it takes to break me out of the Twitter hypnosis.
I learned that I check email between 5-10 times per hour at least 18 hours every day and that it actually only took me 18 minutes to check my day’s email when I set that time aside.
I learned that my productivity skyrocketed and my anxiety decreased when I could focus on the task at hand and remove the temptation to read what was happening online.
I learned that feeding the beast was simply that. The second I disappeared, so did the dialogue that I have placed so much value on. With the exception of some close friends and passionate clients, the dialogue and conversation largely disappeared. And those close relationships took the conversation to email…and upon receiving the “I’m offline” autoresponders, they gave me a call.
In short, I got some perspective.
While I wasn’t online, I learned about the Jante Law and how we Midwesterners have a social code that’s been passed down through the generations.
While I wasn’t online, my two year old learned to identify James Knox Polk and John Quincy Adams in a lineup of 40 Presidents. (Our vintage flashcards only go to Reagan. And she already knew Calvin Coolidge.)
While I wasn’t online, I handwrote thank you’s to a group of people that have given freely of their time, passion and creativity over the past several years without ever asking for anything in return.
While I wasn’t online, I wrote and sketched the ideas that I believe can help better deliver services to the working poor of my community.
The web has tremendous power to be harnessed and I intend to remain immersed in it. It’s how I make my living and it’s a fantastic platform for sharing deep narrative. However, it’s also amazing what we can accomplish when we unplug, refocus our priorities and get some perspective on the world around us.