You know... The crippling feeling of panic if you can't find your phone. Or if you got it wet and fried it. Or if it got shut off. Or if it got broken.
What if someone texts you? How are you going to text them? How are you going to check Instagram?
Fakebook? (that's my next blog. Later).
Twitter?
Facetime?
The 15 other apps on your phone? How is everyone going to see all of the fun you're having or half-ass creating? How is every single minute of the day going to be documented? How?
I know these thoughts because last summer I was literally off the grid entirely for the first time since I don't know when. I was a little anxious and more than a little off balance...and it was only for three days. I realized that checking my phone was a habit that I didn't realize was as bad as it was until that little trip. There were people with whom my only primary daily contact and communication was had via text or app message, so I didn't like it at all. I was a little bit spazzed out inside because I felt out of touch with the world and it felt WEIRD.
I was in the forest by a river surrounded by nature. I couldn't call or text a single soul, even in an emergency, and I had to just deal with that. And by day two, I loved it. I took pictures...lots of pictures. I love doing that because it's a documentary of life and memories. I collected a lot of them for three days because I knew I could share them with everyone... later.
I sat in silence early just after the sun rose and I listened to the birds. There was a woodpecker every morning going to town on the same tree. I listened to the crickets. I also listened to the hooves of the horses walking on the trail that was a little distance down from the front of our cabin.
I looked at how the sunlight shined on the leaves of the trees. I looked at shapes in the clouds like I did as a kid. I watched squirrels run around burying nuts and patting leaves over them and I giggled. I knew they'd never find them later. I walked down to the river by myself and sat by the edge so I could stare at how the sun danced on the water, making the top of it look like glitter. I smelled the air. It smelled like sand and pine trees and water and river. I loved it. I was offline with the interwebs and anyone who wasn't physically there with me but I was online with myself, with nature, with the family I was with, and I knew that I'd catch up with everyone else later. It was okay.
It was peaceful and it was grounding. Life is a whole lot different, a little simpler, quite a bit better and a lot more interesting when all you have are your own thoughts and your physical surroundings when they're positive and good. When you allow yourself to enjoy that, you start to crave it and it becomes its own kind of addiction. I know this because as soon as we left I counted down the days until the next year when we'd return. As soon as my phone started dinging with notifications on our drive towards home; I craved the wifi bars disappearing and the message at the top left corner that said "no service."