What happens to your state of mind, if you are cut off from the internet for a week? No media or news from the outside world whatsoever. This is what happened to me last week, and the results were startling, having a profound effect on the way I perceived the world around me. This article explores the psychological and spiritual insights I gained from the experience.
A chance to unplug completely
It seems, there is only so much stimulation we can take in one dose, only so many facts we can absorb at a time. Whether we experience one thing deeply, or many things superficially, we each have a finite amount of attention we can spend throughout the day. And if we happen to be a stressed, prone to anxiety or sensitive to over-stimulation, then spreading our attention too thinly can cause distress or burnout.
I was allowed the chance last week to discover what it feels like to be out of arms reach from media giants, ubiquitous advertising and tailored feed algorithms, when I experienced eight days without any internet connection—something I had not done since the rise of social media. And in exchange for trading in my online fix I was rewarded with my first ever glimpse of a kingfisher (as well as a feast of encounters with bats, kites, herons, buzzards, toads, and owls).
My family and I took our first proper holiday in several years. We went to the south of Wales, taking a break from it all and enjoying the gentle pace of life onboard a narrow-boat. The difference from our (moderately) hectic life could not be more stark. Up and down the canal we voyaged, taking a week to travel about thirty-five miles—about as far as a round-trip to my nearest Tesco supermarket.
Slowing down the pace of life
When you chug along slower than walking pace, you really do become utterly absorbed in the details around you. All week long we were immersed in the beautiful and wild landscape. From the smallest wildflowers, to the greatest of oak trees, it felt so gratifying to be enveloped by nature and to actually have the time and capacity to soak in every detail. It felt as if I were spending my attention budget much more wisely—by experiencing fewer things and thereby seeing them truly.
On the drive back home, it struck me just how little I could observe my environment, as the world sped past at sixty miles per hour. We can be fooled into thinking that we have beheld that beautiful farmhouse or interesting meadow, when all it has been able to offer us is a fleeting impression. Like a skimming stone, our eye bounces from one thing to the next. We afford the merest glance at a landscape’s entire inventory before it becomes a thing of the past, and it’s onto the next field, the next building, the next distraction.
There is a poem by Robert Louis Stevenson that I came across recently, and it has stuck in the mind. It’s called From a Railway Carriage, and it describes the feeling of rushing along in a train. A few lines read:
And charging along like troops in a battle
Robert Louis Stevenson
All through the meadows the horses and cattle:
All of the sights of the hill and the plain
Fly as thick as driving rain;
And ever again, in the wink of an eye,
Painted stations whistle by.
And here is a mill, and there is a river:
Each a glimpse and gone forever!
…Gone forever.
By travelling in cars and trains, we have become accustomed to a fast lifestyle with information thrown at us from every direction. But this week was different. It was the first time in many years that had I experienced a week without any internet connection or appreciable phone signal, and the contrast could not be clearer. No laptop, no pings from my phone, no social media feeds. And it was bliss. More than that, I felt so much better—better than I have in years.
Addicted to the hive-mind
I think most of us, most of the time, are within reach of the internet at different points in the day. It’s so readily accessible that I find myself unable to keep away from it for very long.
Whether I’m checking the news, emails, Whatsapp, social media, podcasts, music, blogs, forums, sports updates, articles, research, or shopping, the web is always just a click away. And once I’ve opened my browser, it’s impossible not to glance at at least one or two of my feeds. In the evening, there is also Netflix, Amazon Prime, Disney Plus, or YouTube to tempt our attention, each throwing it’s fair share of sensory stimulation.
It’s not that any of these are intrinsically bad, taken in isolation (although I do reserve a special place in hell for certain forms of social media), it’s that my mind becomes saturated with the detritus of other people’s opinions—influencers, pundits, columnists, commenters, comedians, journalists, satirists, talking heads and more. My thoughts become infiltrated by the views I’ve exposed myself to throughout the day.
It was startling to me, during this week-long blackout, how little mental baggage I was carrying around with me, and how wonderful it felt. I had my own thoughts, I could be present in the moment, I was neither distracted nor anxious.
I had thought my internet habits were fairly conservative, and my media consumption modest. But as I looked back on my normal routine from the perspective of my media holiday, I could see that in reality I was actually a media-trawler, dredging up all manner of junk and dumping it wholesale into my mind, allowing it to swill about and effect how I thought and felt.
How social media triggers emotions
The main problem, as I see it, is that of elicited emotions. News outlets of all kinds—generalized or subject-specific—are there to shape opinion. So much of the views we hold are actually received, whether from our preferred news sources, or our favourite online hangouts. This in of itself is not necessarily a bad thing. It is, after all, how ideas percolate through a society. That said, scrawling through Twitter can leave you jaded when so many commenters are simply parroting catchphrases or trying to gain traction via controversy or extreme reactions.
The problem, as I found out, is just how much each of these platforms rely on eliciting an emotion from us, and—through frenzied competition with other outlets—just how good at it they have become.
Where opinions tell us what we should be thinking, media in general tells us what we should be feeling. If a platform or outlet has figured out that it is profitable to elicit negative feelings in us—feelings of frustration, injustice, anger at the world’s inequalities, or politician’s follies—then we risk losing ourselves in a mind-storm of dark emotions. Politically news outlets are particularly adept at making their audience feel a certain way—outrage is always a successful emotion for eliciting clicks, views and interactions.
Even if I try and confine myself to an innocuous subject, sport perhaps, I will be fed headlines above, below, to the side of the text, enticing me to click on other articles. Headlines that tell me a parent was brutally murdered, or a child abused, or a celebrity arrested, or that a world leader has declared war. I will be informed of scandals and heartlessness and tragic natural disasters. Feelings of despair about the world’s climate and biodiversity are now defined as a tangible mental syndrome. These feelings will have mostly been brought to us via the media we consume—however well-meaning their intentions are.
And all this tumult is before we delve into the unending world of social media with a seemingly infinite sea of personal opinion, conflict and self-righteous vitriol.
Each and every and post and webpage will elicit a different reaction, a new emotional response. Such a relentless roller-coaster cannot surely be good for us. Even when I log off, I will find these thoughts tumbling around. I’ll have arguments in my head with an ignorant commenter, or a politician whom I disagree profoundly with. Round and round go my thoughts, when I could be present in the moment and experiencing something positive and something real. Well that was my routine, until this last week showed me life unplugged.
Relief from internet overload
This last week has been such a relief from the overload I didn’t even realise I was trying to cope with. Last week I realised just how little of my media diet I actually needed. In truth I cannot think of one podcast, one site, show or outlet I truly missed. I had books to read when I had any urge for entertainment or intellectual sustenance. They didn’t try to sell me stuff, they didn’t try to tempt me away onto a different page. If they were pushing a narrative or opinion, it was at a slower, more digestible rate.
And when I was with my family, out in nature, observing wildlife and enjoying each other’s company, I felt completely present. I was neither distracted, nor riled up from the latest controversy in some far-away place. I achieved moments of mindfulness, contentment and peace. I experienced real joy.
As I return to my normal life, there will be certain things I cannot avoid—the chores of day-to-day living. But the main takeaway from this last week is that I do not need to exist on a fast-food diet of online media. Whatever I thought it was giving me, I didn’t miss. And the good feelings I experienced in their absence demonstrates it’s a habit I should continue to foster.
If there’s one thing I’d recommend from my recent experience, it would be to tone down your exposure to bad news, or any news for that matter. Sometimes it feels terribly important to be kept in the loop on what’s happening, whether far away or locally. But in truth, the price we pay is a state of sensory overload and negative emotion.
There are some issues about which it is healthy to be kept informed about. There are some issues that it is our duty to have an informed opinion about. But the vast majority of content can be done away with without any consequence.
Spiritual clarity from reducing time spent online
Try it today. Try cutting down on what you consume and discover how it can increase your general happiness and mental health, but also allow that mental space to find greater spiritual clarity. Rather than checking that social media feed, why not dig out a good book, or take a walk? You might be surprised at the difference it makes to the now, and how much your sense of inner peace increases.
Leave a Reply