Seeking an Analog Life
I suppose my story is not at all unique. It goes like this: one day I looked up and realized that I was missing out on my own life. The noise of “convenience” was suddenly overwhelming: streaming services that promised something new and binge-worthy, apps that refreshed with endless new content, so many things to look at and consume at no cost, or so I assumed. The cost turned out to be quite high — the cost was my time, the one thing I cannot make more of. And if it’s true that we are what we consume, well, I was not proud of who I was becoming.
I had outsourced my efficiency and, often, my happiness to things that were actively stealing from me. As this dawned on me, the only conclusion I could come to was to slowly remove those distractions and traps from my life and replace them with something a bit more life-giving. Like I said, not a unique story. I think so many of us signed on to each new technology and convenience with good intentions, only to look back and realize that it didn’t deliver on whatever invisible promise it had made.
I still have a long way to go in managing my time in a way I am proud of, but I can safely say that there is a lot of intentional effort being made (along with prayer) to help me steward my time well.
Here is a list of shifts I have made to help make sure that I am being present and content:
- A small TV with just a DVD player. My kids have a drawer full of movies, and those are the options. The limitations are actually freeing. And once something is over, there is no auto-play there to suck them into another movie.
- Real clocks around the house. No more reaching for my phone to tell the time, which means I don’t need to keep track of my phone as closely, and I don’t look at it as often.
- Snail mail. This has not replaced texting or phone calls, but it has added another level to many of my friendships that I’m so grateful for. There’s nothing like receiving a letter and getting to read and reread it.
- Paper books. I was tempted by the Kindle and how convenient it is, but I will remain a strictly paper-book reader. Call me crazy, but I love that books start to show the evidence of having been read. A smudge of chocolate that was enjoyed, a splash of water from a bath-time reading session, the dog-eared pages—all proof of a well-loved book.
- Shooting on film. As I’ve incorporated film photography into my life, I’m noticing how I take fewer iPhone photos and how I am more content with the “first” (often only) shot—whether eyes are closed, it’s slightly blurry, or the composition isn’t quite what I wanted. It is the moment in time that I captured, and it is enough.
- Using a CD player. Spotify gave me unlimited options, and while there’s something compelling about that, I realized that I love having “my” music. CDs that I know by heart, knowing the track numbers, anticipating that one little part that skips every time. I still have a Spotify account, and I still use it. But I’ve loved getting back to CDs in my car and for daily background music in our living room.
- Monthly newspapers and magazines. I’ve got to credit The Lottura Post for creating something so beautiful and affordable; signing up was a given. It has been a delight to look forward to my monthly issue, to have a curated selection of articles and pictures to enjoy, carefully chosen and finite.
- Cookbooks. My Pinterest board of recipes is endless (and beautiful, and I’ve made a lot of them!), but there’s something about sitting on the couch with a cookbook—reading the backstories, writing my own notes in the margins, adding Post-it notes to the recipes I want to try. It’s so real, so reminiscent of my childhood, and I adore the practice.
So there, a not-so-profound list of things that have recently helped me be more grounded and present in my life. A list of things that have removed my phone from being used in every setting. I would love to hear from you — what is a shift you’ve made (or want to make) to cultivate a simpler and more present life?
Sending lots of love from my corner of California,
Natalie