In an era of instant everything, turning off my wi-fi service forced me to slow down and appreciate the world a bit more.
A few months ago, I volunteered for a project on the Superior Hiking Trail (SHT) to help maintain the trail, but also unplug and offer community goodness. I hadn’t camped in years but growing up on a farm would demonstrate my distinguished outdoor knowledge. Even if I didn’t walk away from this adventure using power tools and hammers as promised, I did learn that enjoying the great outdoors isn’t an activity revered for campers who do it well. It can be a way of observing and making sense of the world.
In an age when we’re never more than a swipe away from a phone, a video and the internet, camping seemed manageable. The experience allows you to slow down. However, when the conversation turned to heading to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area, turning off the internet completely seemed plausible.
We planned. We discussed. We prepared. I was in good company. A girls weekend was in the making.
It happened. I lost wi-fi service almost without warning. I knew the end was near. I wanted to say goodbye to those I loved before disappearing for an eternity of three days, but I missed my opportunity. Suddenly my cell service was gone. I worried about them worrying about me. I was sad. Maybe I should have done my research better knowing exactly when the cell service would stop. My ignorance wasn’t serving me well. Perhaps I had hoped there would be a sign stating the signal would disappear at a certain point… posted on a tree perhaps.
Stepping into the water to board the canoe was my new reality. I clutched my phone, hoping some small signal would appear. Viewing my settings, turning on and off roam service, and using the cellular function wasn’t working. It was over. I was no longer connected with civilization. How would I share this three-day adventure with the world? How would the world survive without me posting to social media?
This was not a typical vacation. It was a bit difficult, to be honest. Not being connected almost felt unnatural. In reality, the photos I was taking didn’t compare to what I was experiencing–vivid green moss, glass-like water, the sound of tent zippers, the heights of the trees, the quietness in the air, the dew on the leaves, the mice eyes peering up from the latrine at night. I was forced to slow down, to take things in, and to simply look.
I argued with myself to be still and just notice.
Not every moment could be captured on my phone. Staying still as the small bright orange ball of fire rose in the sky over the trees mirroring back on the water deserved documenting, but the real struggle was allowing my memory be the only evidence that I was there. Memories fade, it’s true. Is that so bad? Do we need a photo for the experience to matter? It was time to slow down.
As I set out to discover life without the internet, I often caught myself checking for the bars of service. Slowly I did get away from that feeling and redirect to nature’s beauty. It was time to acknowledge that I was hours and hours away from the internet and soak in the quiet.
Does the internet strip us of our sense of existence? Forcing myself into the world of nature and doing nothing but living convinced me doing nothing is an art. I brought my headphones which were of no use. Detaching from all-things-feeling-online requires intention. The internet has invaded my life and surrounded me in a way I hadn’t realized that I needed to get away from that feeling.
The common bond in the group was camping and being in the outdoors rather than the latest and greatest online strategies for women entrepreneurs. We now lived by the 7 Principles of Leave No Trace which are the practices for anyone visiting the outdoors. Growing up in the outdoors had me take for granted the variety of disciplines required for survival.
Living outdoors doesn’t allow overthinking when it comes to survival. My life for the past five years has centered around digital marketing. Unplugging was my brown noise. I detected this low frequency of ringing in my ears that was swirling around my head but yet calmed my heart. I forgot about the quiet I knew well from my childhood.
I reconnected with a version of myself that I had lost, and rediscovered something lovely… quiet and peacefulness.
Taking a break from our businesses, even if it’s just for a few days, definitely requires intention. It can be hard to unplug and step away from work, but it’s so important! We need time to rejuvenate and refresh in order to continue providing value to those around us. If you’re feeling overwhelmed or like you don’t have enough time for yourself, check out my recent article where I talk about embracing self-care and why it’s so important for female entrepreneurs.
Lisa Carmichael. Owner & Creator EPIK Mastermind https://lisarcarmichael.com
Yes! Unplug! It’s so refreshing when I do it. But I do it so infrequently.
Why? It’s crazy. Our connection with the wireless world is so strong. A crutch. A lifeline. Sometimes more imaginary than real.
How did people survive in the Dark Ages of the 1970s? I have to laugh as I remember traveling without a cell phone. And lousy AM radio reception (forget about FM).
Hi Lisa,
FYI, I read once that a cell tower has a range of 3 miles. Just imagine that in the city there is a cell tower every three miles. And that is for one provider. How many providers operate in your area and where is the closest one for your provider?
I am glad you managed to bring back some pictures. Are they from your phone or an old-fashioned camera?
Internet connections are slow and unreliable on cruise ships so it is capture pictures while on the trip and spent the next month uploading them for this Blog Challenge.
Are you sure that the brown noise around your head was not just mosquitoes?
You can definitely see your enthusiasm in the paintings you write. The arena hopes for even more passionate writers like you who are not afraid to mention how they believe. At all times go after your heart.