No Phone November
On mobile devices—and living without them
I am writing this on Day 7 of ‘No Phone November,’ but you may be reading it on Day 13 or 14. A casual internet search (on my computer, not on my phone) shows that I did not invent the phrase, but at the same time, I had never heard of anyone trying to go an entire month without their phone. It’s an idea that hatched spontaneously while laying in a hammock with my girlfriend on a sunny day: what if we just ditched our phones?
Day 1:
Went for a walk at dawn, made a yummy breakfast, and listened to a bit of news on an AM/FM radio plugged into the electrical socket on my kitchen counter. (I have had this AM/FM radio since the 2000s when I first began living in apartments as a twentysomething college grad. In those days, I had a flip phone, no personal computer, and no internet in my apartment, so unless I was at work or at the public library, I was not online. I got my news—and entertainment, particularly jazz and classical music—via a public radio station via my AM/FM radio.)
A feeling that arises: does using the phone less mean having less influence in the world? Am I less worldly? Less informed? Less in tune with my community and friends? And if so, is that less-ness okay?
Day 2:
My partner has expressed frustration at my ‘No Phone November’ experiment, calling it selfish. She asks: Isn’t this just a slippery slope towards fully detaching myself from the world—including her? She says that I would prefer to live in a cabin in the woods as a hermit; I say that’s not true. I love my life in our small city, in community with friends and chosen family, and in close partnership and proximity with you.
Day 3:
Well, it’s not really No Phone November. I have set up my text messages on my iPhone to forward to my laptop so that I can stay in touch with my partner, my friends, and my roommates. But some of those folks don’t have Apple devices, and unfortunately SMS messages will not forward from my phone number to my laptop unless my phone is still on. So I decide to leave the phone on, plugged in, stashed underneath a couch in my office. It is, in effect, a landline telephone.
To that point, when I try to call an office for an errand using FaceTime audio, I realize that the call won’t go through unless they, too, have an Apple device. To make some phone calls, I have to sit in my office and pull my now-landline phone out from under the couch to make the call.
In good news, though, I am able to access almost all of my apps on a web browser on my laptop. Did you know that you can practice Duolingo on a web browser? It is clunky, but it works.
Day 4:
Having mixed feeling about it. I’m feeling a bit less productive, which is good, but also sometimes it feels frustrating. (In the absence of a phone, I feel more tuned into my creative writing, which is great!). I feel a bit disconnected from my partner, which is sad.
Day 5:
First day bringing my phone out into the world again. I am scheduled to meet with a healthcare advisor (as I figure out signing up for a better Obamacare plan for 2026), and in order to meet with her, I have to “call or text” her from outside the locked door of her office building. Perhaps I could say “I’m sorry, but I don’t have a phone.” But instead, I bring the phone, texting her from the sidewalk.
Day 6:
I am doing so well. I feel so alive, so light on my feet, so joyous.
Day 7:
Here I am writing this week’s newsletter for 700/14. My ‘landline’ is underneath the couch. I only pull it out if I have to make a phone call. I don’t take it with me on trips around the city, but looking forward, I will take it with me on longer drives.
I sit at my computer in my office six days a week (all days except the Sabbath), from around 8am through 5pm each day, and I can check text messages on my computer during that time. I can also send people cute audio messages through my computer.
I think the key lesson I have learned so far this ‘No Phone November’ is that the problem with our mobile devices is their very mobility. It’s great to have a device that can do so many cool things for us, but do we have to take it around with us all the time? Over the past several decades, we have created a culture of expectation around perpetual availability. This is a problem for workaholics, but even for non-workaholics—do we really need to be online all the time? There’s always a chance that an important message might come for us, or that we may be in an emergency and need access to sending someone a message, but these risks have always existed and for most of human history we did just fine with the messaging technologies available to us. When we are constantly ‘on,’ I worry that we are also ‘off’ to other experiences: nature, the passing of time, our bodies, the pleasures of food, using all five senses, sitting with our thoughts, sharing a slow meal with a friend, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
A final word…
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