Why a Phone-Free Summer Was a Gift

Lately, I find that brushing my teeth is a six-minute ordeal.

In seeking an explanation for this apparently insignificant realization, I found that there are many small tasks in my day that take me longer to complete than they should. I open my planner to jot down test dates and find myself staring at the empty months, or I open a book to read a chapter and trail off the page mid-sentence.

I soon discovered the source behind my distraction, the object that trails me virtually everywhere I go, that opens me up to universes yet pulls me from the world right in front of me: my phone.

This past summer I was largely disconnected from my phone and the internet in general. I worked at Camp Stone, where we were not allowed to have our phones out ever during the day. Phones were stored in bins in a building in camp, and we were allowed to use them in that location during free time (which was limited) or after the campers went to sleep at night. 

Even during these times when I was allowed or able to visit my phone, though, I grew increasingly uninterested in it. Working at camp is demanding, and time to yourself is hard to come by; the spare time that I did have I didn’t want to scroll through endless messages on my phone. I became better at listening to what my mind or body told me I needed in order to unwind; to open a sefer in the Beit Midrash, go for a jog, debrief with a friend or lie on the grass with a book and find a moment of stillness and quiet. At nights after campers went to sleep I was so exhausted that I often had no energy to check my phone, and throughout the summer I went two, three or four days at a time without looking at it at all.

Of course, this kind of disconnection works only in very specific environments. Camp is unique in that it functions as a self-sufficient bubble; through Motorola radios, Cobra walkie-talkies and a loudspeaker system, there are sufficient methods of communicating any necessary details and instructions. Any need, whether it be medical, maintenance or food-related, is transmitted through this network and provided by somebody within the camp. In my experience, the self-sufficiency of this environment creates a culture of presence and productivity; I knew that anything I needed I could find in camp, and in turn, my sole responsibility was to be present for the people directly surrounding me.

In the “real world,” though, our networks of communication are so much larger. Canvas creates constant communication between students and teachers regarding upcoming assignments and dates, WhatsApp chats ensure that I am constantly connected to friends and family and through news websites, I receive daily headlines with global updates.

Don’t get me wrong — this kind of connection can be a bracha. The fact that I can keep up daily correspondence with my friends living in Israel, that I have access to Tanakh, Shas and nearly any Jewish source I could want at my fingertips, that with one search I can find the quickest mode of public transportation anywhere I want to go, is nothing short of miraculous. 

But being so hyper-connected to the outside world takes me away from what is right in front of me. I find it hard to stay focused on simple tasks when my phone sits next to me, reminding me of the infinite other things that I could be doing at this moment. And when I fill in every actionless moment with a glance at my phone — for the time, to check my calendar or to clean up an endless stream of messages and emails — I stifle the creative voice inside my head. During rare moments of solitude and disconnection (like brushing my teeth), that little voice urges to come out, and thoughts, ideas and plans rattle through my brain like ping-pong balls. I lose myself in the task at hand as I allow myself to run through conversations, process my day or begin to chart out an outline for my next English paper before I remind myself that it’s time to rinse out the toothpaste.

As a college student being supported by my parents and living thirty minutes from home, my responsibilities are limited, and the extent of my social media is WhatsApp, email and Venmo. That being said, I am often overwhelmed trying to keep up with the constant influx of content pouring into my phone. Three weeks out of camp (and three weeks into college), I am less focused, I take a longer time to fall asleep at night, and I often feel less present in conversations with other people. 

We often forget — and I include myself in the collective — that we are allowed to take moments to just be. Sitting beside a family member or a close friend, even without talking, is valuable, and pulling out our phones at every lull in conversation can create emotional barriers. It is okay to hold off on responding to a message right away in order to be more present for the person standing right in front of you. It is also important to find time for yourself, to be in touch with your own thoughts, goals and aspirations and not to spend every moment of solitude behind a screen. What I fear is that we have become so desensitized to the presence of the phone in our lives that we don’t even realize how much better we could be.

Photo caption: Notifications constantly pop up on our phones and it can be overwhelming to try and respond to each message as it comes.

Photo credit: Tran Mau Tri Tam / Pixabay