a digital rebirth

after erasing all my data on my phone, I reflect on digital habits and how we’ve all become tethered selves.

Yesterday, in the failed aftermath of an iOS update, my phone got stuck in the limbo world — of a single black apple in the arctic landscape of snow. We spent the whole day there. I was alone in my apartment, struggling intensely with a book project. I felt strangely disconnected from the world. It was like being silent, cold, and naked. But not in a fun way.

This morning, I decided to kill it. (aka factory reset) I accepted that I was forfeiting six months of photos and things I didn’t back up. When it revived again this morning, it asked me if I wanted to restore my data from iCloud. I thought about it for a moment, and I selected NO.

To say “I don’t need any of it,” is much easier than picking up and putting down each item, feeling conflicted and sentimental. (What if I need this later? What if I’ll be sad when this is gone?) I had over fifteen-thousand photos, hundreds of notes to self in different apps, and at least ten apps for staying in touch with friends. It’s all in the Cloud still. But now I see only the blank sky.

I realized that I don’t need to be carrying around that much personal history. Digital clutter and baggage still take up space. It’s space in my mind — most precious real estate there is.

I’ve long toyed with ideas around digital minimalism. Since I started building my castle, I’ve had a practice of no social media or email before noon. Now is my opportunity to really experiment. How many times a day do I really need to check my email? Do I really need to reply to messages every hour? Will I feel lonely if I go a day without messaging? Do I need to always look up directions? Listen to music? Am I truly listening with all my being, or is it just noise to block out the noise?

Once I’ve stepped out of this river, I see how totally insane it is, the way we live, tethered to our devices as if they’re IV bags dripping into our bloodstream. We are one of the last generations who remember what it was like before we were tethered. What it felt like to be free. And bored.

The thing I object to is not the technology itself, but the addictive habits we’ve built around it — so insidious and pervasive we don’t even identify it as addiction. It’s like being in a codependent relationship.

Who are we really in a relationship with? Surely it’s not with the people we’re texting with (or vaguely, remotely interacting with) on social media. It’s with a phantom of our digital selves. Aspirational, ghostly selves. Could it be that we dilute ourselves like this, by constantly being distracted, constantly pulled and pushed by notifications every few hours?

Is there a better way to live, to be free and empowered by these tools, instead of dependent on them?

If I let go of my tethered self, can I find a deeper essence of my real self?

These are all questions I’m asking. I will write again when I have discovered more.