Disconnecting from the Interconnected World of Social Media
I’ve recently taken a step back from social media.
A bit of a “social media detox,” if you will.
I signed out of my Facebook, Instagram and Snapchat accounts, turned off my push notifications, and did an “app-clearing” session of many of the non-necessities on my phone.
I’ve taken a social media detox before, and what made me want to do so again was:
1. To take a step away from all the negativity.
2. To re-center my time on the things I value.
3. To invest my energy in more creative and productive ways.
My creative-focused inspiration could also be because I’m currently reading “Big Magic” by Elizabeth Gilbert, which, side note: is inspiring, enlightening, and overall just one big dose of wonderful.
But also, with the current state of the world being how it is I’m sure I’m not alone when I say it’s been easier than ever to waste countless hours scrolling through pictures of places you want to visit (but can’t). Watching funny cat, dog, or other animal videos (which admittedly, I do kind of miss), or clicking mindlessly through the latest celebrity gossip, news articles, or ads for things none of us really need… but now want.
The enticements of “click-bait” and the intrigue of always wanting to be “in the know” through social media can be both a bottomless pit and much too easy a time-trap to fall into.
But it’s also one that I’ve decided to pull myself out from for a while so I can instead devote my time to re-focusing my energy and revitalizing my mind.
Since I’ve been off social media, I’ve been spending much of my extra time writing, reading, brushing up on my piano skills (boy were they rusty), and spending my time exploring the outdoor culture and beauty of my local area.
For example, last night following an evening walk around a park while enjoying the colors of the sun setting over my quiet neighborhood, my husband and I sat out back and had a bonfire enjoying the coolness of a summer’s day end and the serenity of a clear night of stars.
It was an evening of no dings or distractions. Just me, my husband, the fire before us, good conversation, the sound of stridulating crickets’ wings, and the faraway howls of what we assumed to be restless coyotes.
To temporarily remove oneself from the constant interconnectedness of the world can be a wonderfully, freeing feeling.
But this isn’t the first time I’ve experienced such a feeling, and I’m not referring to my previous go-around with a social media detox, either.
I’m talking about the very first experience I ever had with truly disconnecting from the world. But unlike this experience, that time, it wasn’t by my own doing. It was by natures.
I had the opportunity to live in the Seattle area for a few years throughout my twenties, and in those years, I became drawn to the beauty and wildness of nature in a way that I’d never experienced before.
I can still remember the first year of living there, and how the entire time I was in constant awe of the sights that locals had spent their entire lives seeing. How no matter where you were, Mount Rainier (on the clear days) could be found towering in the distance. How the rugged outline of the Cascades could be seen off to the right, while the snow-capped peaks of the Olympics remained distant to the left, and how the dark waters of the Puget Sound infiltrated its way in-between.
The magnificence of it all could be so picturesque that some days I would close my eyes and hold them shut awhile, then re-open them to make sure what I was seeing was actually real.
Having lived in a few different areas of the country now, I’ve been fortunate to see many distinctly beautiful places in my life. But I believe living in Washington was the first time that I ever came to truly appreciate the natural beauty of my surroundings in a way that I never had before.
And like many fellow nature-loving souls who move to Washington, once I got my first taste, I craved to see, experience, and explore as much of that natural beauty as I could.
So, I did.
I spent my Saturdays and Sundays exploring local hikes, my Memorial Day weekends backpacking through the Olympic National Park and took short getaways to explore places I was either told of or had learned about through my hungry search to see more.
I fell in love with not only the pursuit of seeing the beauty in the surrounding wilderness; the magnificence of the mountains, the blue glacier lakes, the gigantic trees and their otherworldly, moss-strewn limbs. But also, I fell in love with the feeling of detaching myself once far within it. Completely, fully, bringing my attention to only the present moment that I was in.
I found, similar to what many seek in the practices of Yoga or Meditation, that hiking and immersing myself in nature brought me to quiet my mind and focus on what lay before me. By disconnecting from all other outside distractions that demanded my attention, I was able to connect to a passion and a part of myself that I hadn’t known existed.
Washington taught me many things during my few years there, both about internal and external exploration. It forced me to truly step back for the first time since joining the bustling social media world, and it taught me it was okay to do so.
It was, in a way, an exercise of re-centering that I hadn’t even known I’d needed.
“Out there” in the depths of nature, it was always only a matter of time before my cell would eventually lose service, and the regular sounds of dings, pings, and rings would be lost to the patter of my footsteps, the drops of a misty Washington shower, or the distant songs of a Camp Robber.
