Keeping it real in our strange new world

From time to time I find myself thinking back to a conversation I had with my grandmother, many years ago, that unfailingly brings my life into perspective. Warm and sharp-witted, this unaffected woman had her priorities exactly right. And while her life was far from glamorous, I never experienced a time when she seemed unhappy.

So this conversation. We were drinking tea in her dining room, light filtering in through the blinds onto the lace tablecloth. I remember watching the dust dancing in the air and experiencing that beautiful, lazy feeling of timelessness. I was talking about my travel ambitions, my hopes for a dazzling, adventurous life. And after listening, grandma put her cup down and said to me “You know Gemma, those things are good, but remember that this — what we’re doing right now — this is real life. This is what matters”.

I didn’t fully understand her at the time, but now after living three decades of life, I think I do. She meant that what is important is the simple and often humble things that fill the chapters of our lives. Those old fashioned values — community, family, honest work, being present.

Today, in the age of Instagram — and don’t get me wrong, I love Instagram — but in a time characterised by distraction, comparison and boundless aspiration, it’s hard to keep your feet planted firmly in reality.

I know I’m not alone in feeling that life has tipped way out of balance. Mindfulness has become a big thing in the media; articles, courses and apps abound — this buzzword is everywhere. As a society we are craving mental space, but I can’t help but wonder — who is finding it?

A week of switching off

So when I stumbled across a challenge in the book ‘The Artists Way’ by Julia Cameron, I decided to take it up. The concept was to spend a week without any form of media for entertainment; a week with no television or internet, without books or magazines — a week of just being.

As I didn’t have a week to head off into the mountains of Nepal, in order to make this feasible I created my own rules. I had a job in marketing to maintain, which required me to be online, reading and viewing content during the day. So I simply fenced off my evenings as my time to totally unplug. A week of switching off after 6pm. For real.

As my partner was away overseas during this time, this made for some quiet evenings. And let me tell you, my mind was not at all happy about it.

The most difficult aspect was wanting to unwind after a long day, to feel comforted and entertained by something external. Three days into the challenge, after a particularly tough day at work, the sheer frustration of staying offline made me rage inwardly against this self-imposed punishment. But, stubbornly, I pushed on. I picked up a mindfulness colouring book I had been gifted by a friend and filled in blocks of colour. Sulkily at first, without much care, and slowly with more attention. Eventually I relaxed a little, attempted some meditation and went to bed early.

During the week I found that there were certain moments in which I struggled more than others; either when events challenged me and I wanted distraction, or when something interesting floated into my inbox during my work day, that I would usually check out at home. Oh how I wanted to watch one video… but I held out.

Rediscovering sleep

The strange thing was, at first I found that the lack of mental stimulation actually left me struggling to get to sleep. I just wasn’t tired at 10pm — I hadn’t drained myself of mental energy before climbing into bed, and so my mind stayed switched on, bright and alert. Eventually I slipped into sleep.

But as the days progressed, I found myself going to bed at a decent time, and falling asleep more and more easily. And my quality of sleep improved as well; waking up to an alarm feeling tired had become the accepted norm for me during the working week, but suddenly I found myself waking naturally, well rested.

Time slows down, good things happen

Something about this challenge brought on an unexpected desire to be nicer to myself. To stop focusing on my imperfections in the mirror. To go to yoga. To walk the scenic route to work, and to buy myself a chai latte on the way. Perhaps it was the sense of achievement in pursuing a goal, or it could have been the reprieve from comparing myself to others on social media. Either way, it worked.

I also found I had time — lots of it. During this challenge, time slowed down quite incredibly in the evenings. Usually I rush home, rush to make something for dinner, eat it mindlessly and then rush through a bunch of things I need or want to do. Time races by and my evening is over before it began.

But now… it was like someone had tampered with time. It would glance at the clock at 7.20pm, and then seemingly half an hour later, it was just 7.30pm. Time was suddenly on my side, slow and luxurious, and I loved it. I found with this newly discovered time I had more of it to spend with others. Could I meet for dinner tomorrow night? Why yes, I could.

A foundation for the future

When Friday rolled around, the second-to-last day of my distraction detox, I knew that I was starting to love it. In fact, I wasn’t sure that ending this challenge was such a good idea.

Friday evening was chilled, intentionally so, spent listening to music and doing some writing. I woke up on Saturday with whole the day ahead of myself — no major demands — just one coffee date planned at 2pm. I went for a long walk in the hills behind my house, had some lunch, and then went out for coffee in town. Afterwards I decided to browse through a few shops I love, and ended up splurging on a comfy merino sweater and two types of beautiful loose leaf tea. Some gifts to myself.

Afterwards I went to drop off some mail to my neighbour, and we ended up drinking red wine in front of her wood burner. Her kitten launched occasional playful attacks on our feet as we chatted about art, social issues and life in general. Saturday was the best day.

At the end of the evening I drew my challenge to an end. Seven days, from Sunday to Saturday, I had done my time. But I felt hesitant to return to the online world. Would I lose the mental space I had gained? I quietly promised myself I would schedule ‘offline days’ each week to ensure I maintained this hard-won balance.

Today, Sunday, I find myself writing without much effort. I haven’t revolutionised my life in the past week, but I have reclaimed some valuable mental space — making room for the real stuff of life. And something else is beginning to spark again. Those creative wires are fusing…