I realised I had a problem when I was having a gentle word with my daughter about her phone use, because unless she was studying or asleep, I could find her by listening for the sounds of TikToks, Reels, and podcasts.
I watched her miss bits of information in TV shows we were watching, distracted by messages, games, and notifications.
As I suggested that she should experiment with silence from time to time, I realised that honestly, so should I. The pot was calling the kettle distracted.
No, this is not another digital detox article. But it is about distraction and attention, and how much we allow that mini-computer in our hands to rob us of the joy of presence.
It wasn’t a dramatic epiphany. There was no rock-bottom moment about my screen time and social media use.
I just realised how tired I was of the constant ping of notifications, the exhaustion of mindless scrolling, of punctuating every activity with a “quick check” of my phone. For what?
And so, I decided to take the smallest action – to simply leave my phone in another room as often as possible.
I grew up in a time when the phone was tethered to one place, and you answered its call if you happened to be home when you heard it ring. Now, I realised, my phone was tethered to me.
And really, I’m not a neurosurgeon – very little of what arrives on my phone is life or death. It can wait.
I started leaving my phone in another room while cooking dinner. For the first time in ages, I heard the onions sizzle; clocked the precise moment when they encountered the hot oil and smelled the fragrant, savoury-sweet aroma that starts off billions of dinners around the world.
Before long, I was actually immersed in cooking a delicious meal, in blending the flavours and textures, in creating something delicious.
When I remembered – because this is a work in progress, and distraction is now a habit of decades – I would leave the phone in my bedroom while we watched something on TV.
Too often, I realise, I wonder who an actor is and whip out my phone to look them up, or Google something to fact-check it (a dubious statement in these post-truth times, I know) – something I will instantly forget – and interrupt my suspension of disbelief, my brief escape into the worlds that other writers create.
During a recent walk with a friend at the botanical gardens, I left my phone in my car so we could walk and talk without interruptions because I “needed” to photograph something for my Instagram feed.
Last week during coffee with another friend, I left my phone in my handbag while we had a quick catch-up over croissants and cake.
And what I’ve realised, is that the art of attention lies not in doing more – in learning practices like meditation and mindfulness.
It’s actually about doing less: about physically removing the most common distraction most of us have in our lives so that we can fully enjoy the present moment, which the gurus rightfully tell us is all we have.
Of course, the present moment isn’t always comfortable. Not scrolling means being alone with our thoughts, dealing with difficulties, sitting with boredom.
It’s not always some kind of Martha Stewart moment laced with vanilla and cinnamon, or the delicate early morning beauty of long grass in a dew-drenched park.
Too often we are picking up that phone so we don’t have to deal with pain, restlessness or discomfort.
But doesn’t that just prolong the inevitable? It’s not real relief.
When we do put the phone down, the situation is still there. Isn’t it better simply to deal with the issue and move on to happier things?
I haven’t got this 100% right, of course – far from it. But I’m focusing on progress, not perfection. (I’ll admit this is tough for a recovering perfectionist, but I am persevering.)
And when I do get it right, I find that watching my favourite Shonda show is far more relaxing.
Walking gives me time to think, reflect and problem-solve. Coffee without that digital third wheel makes for a deeper connection with friends. And simple tasks like cooking dinner feel like less of a chore.
You can take that course in meditation or mindfulness. You can read all the books, and follow all the influencers with their techniques and tools and faux expertise that always seems to require a click on the link in their bio to purchase their latest book or course or product.
Or you can indulge in the smallest, simplest act of rebellion and leave your phone in another room. If there’s a real emergency, the phone will ring. Everything else can wait.
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