Putting My Life Into Airplane Mode.

How I came to self-impose screen-free Sundays.

It suddenly struck me why I was looking forward to flying so much. Turns out that being confined to a crowded metal tube 35,000 feet in the air is a great way to focus. Not for reasons that have anything to do with altitude, recycled air or tomato juice. It’s because I don’t have Wi-Fi.

(Yes, I know that in-flight Wi-Fi is technically available. But it’s overpriced, and the one time I tried it, it was frustratingly slow.) So now I gleefully refuse to use it.

As I was preparing reading material for one of these trips recently, I decided that it was silly to bank my hopes on finishing Infinite Jest on my travel schedule. I don’t actually need to be on an airplane to disconnect. All I needed for an in-flight-like freedom in my everyday life was to disconnect for solid chunks of time.

So I introduced screen-free-Sundays. A self-imposed holiday from phones, laptops, tablets and anything else with a glowing screen.

Temporary technological exile as a path to concentration and serenity.

From the moment I wake up (without the help of my phone’s alarm clock function) until the time I climb into bed at night (sans laptop), I avoid devices of all kinds. This isn’t always easy. Like all of my peers, I’m surrounded by screens. Two phones (one for work, one for life), multiple laptops, a PC, a tablet, a smart-TV.

On Saturday night I put my laptop away, my phones into a drawer (out of sight, out of mind) and prepare for a day in which nothing can distract me from the plans I made. Flexibility is a wonderful thing, but cutting the constant connection cord feels like reclaiming authority over your own day.

Sure, sometimes it seems like a silly game. Why not just quickly check this address/fact/recipe online? It would be easier to simply limit screen interaction to a few times a day, right? But that’s a slippery slope. In my advanced stage of newsfeed-induced dopamine addiction, cold turkey has proven the best strategy to avoid falling back into old habits.

When I want to meet a friend for coffee at 3 on Sunday, I have to make the plans a day in advance. And rigidly stick to those plans. And trust that my friend will stick to them too. (I make sure to warn others of my idiosyncratic Sunday routine beforehand.) All of this can feel dangerous, risky, almost illicit. What if she cancels at the last minute? What if she texts to say she’d rather meet 30 minutes later? What if I need to check which subway to take? All legitimate concerns. And all things that people have had to deal with for most of human civilization (and solidly first-world problems, I know). If they could do it, so can I.

It feels luxurious to go out without your phone. A temporary trip off the grid.

No GPS, no mapping app. Back into explorer mode. This may sound hugely exaggerated to some, but to me, it feels like a radical break from normal life.

I find myself approaching the day with a whole new focus. Spreading the New York Times out on the dining room table and physically sorting through one section after the other. Spending time with friends, without regular glances at my phone. Reading a book rather than binging Netflix. Without a screen constantly tugging at my attention, I can concentrate more deeply on the thing or person in front of me. Life is less fractured.

Limitations often spur creativity. I’ve found it enriching to figure out things to do with my Sunday that don’t involve screens. It’s harder than you might think. It makes you realize how much of our lives is mediated through our phones. I have no way to listen to podcasts or music. So I take long walks, play board games, cook things (from a cookbook!), and of course, read.

The effects of breaking your digital habits once a week were revelatory. They introduced me to new patterns, new options, which have led me to reconsider some of my everyday habits.

I could check my phone as soon as I wake up, like usual… or I could — as I do on Sundays — let that wait.

Don’t get me wrong. I love the internet. Screens have led me to some amazing discoveries and have taken my life on a path it would certainly not have gone down were it not for them. I love social media, keeping up with my friends, sharing information. I have experienced the agony over the lack of a cell connection. The feeling of being cut off from the world.

In homeopathic doses, disconnection is reinvigorating, but I can’t imagine it as a permanent way of life.

It’s blissful and quiet above the clouds. But I’m always happy to land back in the real world, with all its noise, distractions and social chatter. At least until next Sunday comes around.