THIS is what happened when I unplugged for 24 hours

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It was not at all what I expected.

I had planned ahead: printing out the recipe for the gluten-free vegan hot dog buns to bake in the special New-England style pan I bought last year, getting a plan together for the night sky ceiling decals I ordered for my studio space … and wringing my hands about some things I wasn’t sure of. It was the National Day of Unplugging. Could I read a book on my early-model Kindle? Listen to NPR on my Bose radio? Power up my iPhone only to access the app to tune my dusty ukelele? How about sitting in the same room with my husband, who would no doubt be watching a classic episode of This Old House on our TV?

Unplugging for at least 24 hours has been on my list of 2021 to-do’s ever since I read about Casper ter Kuile’s experiences in The Power of Ritual: Turning Everyday Activities into Soulful Practices. I had already been turning off my laptop about an hour before bed, and love using this time to read and transition toward sleep. But I was ready to go deeper, and to bring a little discipline to this practice.

National Day of Unplugging has been around for more than a decade and it encourages folks to do something--anything--without their phones or laptops. This year it spanned 24 hours from March 5-6. Because I was I wasn’t able to abide by this established schedule—it coincided with my twice-monthly overnight visit to see my dad—I decided to shift the schedule by a day. By the afternoon of March 6 my dad and I had videochatted with the grands, ordered some household supplies, and connected so he knew I was home safe (thanks to my Waze GPS app and my never-ending podcast queue). Then I was ready to power down. And because I couldn’t find answers to my pressing questions about what exactly constitutes a “device” these days, I went fully offline.

Here’s what I did during those 24 hours:

  • Napped

  • Organized my veggie seeds and started several varieties, including cabbage, celery, Brussels sprouts and more

  • Warbled along to some old favorite LPs

  • Took a walk down memory lane through several of my mom’s old photo albums

  • Read a paperback

  • Headed to bed early

  • Nuzzled with Zoey and dog and Oggie the cat

  • Slept late

  • Grabbed my natal chart and dove into Parker’s Astrology: The Essential Guide to Using Astrology in Your Everyday Life

  • Baked those hot dog buns

  • Mucked out the cows’ stall and around their hay ring

  • Put away the outdoor winter decorations

  • Enjoyed the sounds of the wooded countryside on my afternoon stroll

And (more importantly) here’s what came up for me:

The world is full of sound! I paused to hear the whooosh of the draft in the wood stove, and the layers of birdsong in the trees on my walk. I do love to binge Vermont Public Radio on the weekends, but I found myself turning it off on Sunday afternoon once I tuned in after my alotted quiet time. I enjoyed the stripped-down-edness of my Saturday evening, and I put a lot of thought into the sounds I chose to take in. I hadn’t listened to my Rounder folk and Cat Stevens albums in at least a decade. The crackles and pops brought me back in time … as did the exercise of getting up to flip the platters over every 20 minutes or so!

It made me really think about every time I use my phone or laptop for something, and how (as a result) we often avoid figuring things out for ourselves now. I found myself really analyzing that recipe to understand the egg-free option. Did the blogger want me to add extra apple cider vinegar? After a few moments I understood the modification, but on any other weekend I would have immediately scrolled to the comments to see if anyone else needed the same hand-holding. I knew it would be challenging for me to not have immediate answers to questions that came up for me during those 24 hours. But I realized that we’re losing the art of critical thinking because answers can be so easily found these days.

Overall, I LOVED this experience, and I’m officially making it a part of my weekend routine on Friday evenings (or Saturdays, on the weeks I visit my dad). You know that feeling we used to have BCp (Before Cell phones) when we went away on vacation, with no calls to answer or work to attend to? That little sense of relief you felt that the only place you really needed to be was right where you were, and where you were was pretty wonderful? It was that.

And after my weekly 24-hour break from my devices, for the remainder of the weekend I’m going to try to use them only for reference and education—confirming the location of the constellations for my studio ceiling decals, accessing a Pinterest recipe, and following along with a seated back massage routine for my husband. No scrolling allowed.

How about you?

You might be thinking that, because of your personal and business responsibilities, turning off your phone would be impossible for you. As a caregiver myself, I understand that going offline for 24 hours can be a challenge. We need to be available for those we care for, and we are fortunate to have devices that can help with that. So every Friday afternoon I’ll place my phone in another room (National Day of Unplugging has cute mobile phone “sleeping bags” for this purpose). It also helps to still have a landline number as a backup, too.

And if a full day doesn't work for you, start with just 1/2 hour if you can--even that can make a difference in how you connect with yourself and others.⁠ Let those who need to know that you’ll be offline, and ⁠I think you might be surprised to rediscover some simple pleasures that you had forgotten about in our super-digital age. Give that a try and let me know what you think.

p.s. Did you notice there's "fun" in nationaldayoFUNplugging? I can tell you that it’s true!