In May I did something totally magical: I unplugged. For an entire week.
I went to a quiet beach with friends and rarely checked my Iphone, which vacationed in my bedroom drawer. For several days, I had stints alone on the beach for big sums of time. After putting up an umbrella, settling into my chair and getting some water from the cooler, I sat and watched the waves.
I breathed deeply as I reminisced on all the editing I’ve completed for writers and myself through the first half of the year. Then I noticed how odd it felt not to have my phone near me, even though it’s silenced for good focus when I work. I pondered the magical world we live in, one where we can simultaneously communicate with various people, use various electronics, surf various platforms, and allow bombardment by a cacophony of various images, sounds, and messages, if we so choose. Yet sitting on that beach, I felt nervous and untethered without possession of my only timepiece.
Soon, those thoughts and worries were out to sea. My mind focused on what was in front of me: the beauty and mystery where I’d yearned to spend time. Thoughts washed ashore and receded back with the undertow. Bliss. Each day when I went inside and checked my phone for the time, I was surprised by how long I’d been basking in relaxation.
Upon my return to Atlanta, I followed my usual strategies. Phone alerts off. I know to do my best work, I must be as present as possible, to not only be in my complete self but to be in my total project to face it fully.
I know writers who don’t, and oftentimes their process and work suffer the consequences. Can you be aware when writing while listening to the radio or TV, eating lunch, and glancing at your phone for texts, emails, tweets, and posts? And here’s one—how can you hear your own thoughts while combining writing with listening to an instructional video on writing? Writing can require fancy “footwork,” but it isn’t Zumba…
You split your focus and your creative power as you attend to other things—even if randomly and for a flash of time—while trying to write. And since the opportunity to write can be hard to secure, when you find precious time to write, honor it. Recognize your creative time as a divine gift. Treasure and treat it as a blessing. Be grateful for it, make choices with the integrity of your heart, and use it wisely.
Many have proved the ability to do a lot all at once. When you do, you may collect tidbits of awareness and nuggets of wisdom. But imagine what can happen when you focus your efforts into one determined energy, and nurture the writing in front of you? Magic, that’s what.
Oh the healing ocean! And so I wonder – why DO we keep ourselves so bombarded, so cacophonized? Why do we keep on keeping on?