I’m Going Light

I’m one week into “going light,” and felt now was a good time to record the ways life is shifting, like light through the slats in the morning.

Just like that – I don’t think the creators of the light phone are believers, but it’s ironic to me that the phone is called that of the burden of my God. It is a startlingly accurate naming.

Not to say it’s been easy. Ask my roommates, the transitioning of technology on a Sunday afternoon at our dining table was not exactly smooth. I had realized, only after I made the nearly $1,000 sink into the transition (between an iPad mini and light phone – which I will elaborate on later), that my glorious plan of using my iPad as the main medium for texting was – not possible. Oops.

I had to disable iMessage, meaning that all texts going through my little light phone would not be received on my iPad or laptop. This was a blow, as I had planned to be able to type out long messages or read group chats easier via the apple product.

If I wanted to receive texts via iMessage, I would have to ask people to text my iCloud email. I felt guilty for making things difficult for people trying to reach me by having two contacts. And as I saw the nitty gritty complicated clunky of the transition, I realized that this was exactly why I was doing it.

If it were seamless, I would like to believe it would be more mainstream.

I have powered off my iPhone 12 mini, removed the SIM card, and put it in a box in the back of my closet. In its place I use a phone that looks like a Kindle but the size of my palm. It can call, text, has a rudimentary GPS system, as well as a calendar, calculator, and a means by which I can listen to music if I download mp3 files via my computer.

No Google, Instagram, photos, camera, apps…

If that seems completely unrealistic to operate as a human that interacts in some productive way with modern society, I might agree with you.

When I was pondering making this switch, I knew that I would need a device that could have apps I use for my podcast, drawings, and other things. If this seems like it defeats the purpose of getting rid of my phone, I would counter that there is something incredibly valuable in decentralizing, in having different products for different purposes. I think I’m just beginning to discover the power of decentralization.

I use my iPad mini much less than I used my iPhone. There is something not quite as comfortable about holding a big screen with two hands than curling into a small device. It’s less personal, less intimate.

It’s almost like that slight difference in size is a physical reminder of the power that is contained in the device I hold.

My iPhone mini masquerades as small, when no part of it is. It is large and all-consuming. It seeps and takes control quickly with a force that leaves few able to truly resist. I found it irresistible, this never-ending faucet of knowledge: of the world, other people, friends, acquaintances, strangers. It was entirely tantalizing, a drug. It gave me the illusion of omniscience, and was left feeling barer than I realized.

Until I opened the slats and let the light in.

Life is so much lighter. Simpler. It might seem obvious, but it’s truer than I can say. It’s funny because in some ways it is slower and clunkier. I can’t send a text as quickly, and if I want to go somewhere new it is difficult for me to find my way. I can’t capture photos in the moment. Communication slips through the cracks.

But I am happily sacrificing these things for the joy I experience now. And the more I get used to them the more they don’t even feel like sacrifices. My life feels more whole, connected, and I am realizing that the iPhone caused an intense grittiness in my soul that rubbed with who I want to become.

It’s only been a week, but it feels like there is more space in my mind, more trust in my people.

It’s strange how not having an iPhone has freed me of this sense of responsibility and guilt I felt to be present to everyone all the time, which of course has not actually changed. Having a light phone doesn’t give me a free pass to ignore the world. But internally something has shifted, and I don’t entirely understand why or how yet, just that this responsibility to be everything to everyone all the time is oozing out of me.

The illusion of omniscience has become just that, and oh what freedom there is in being just a human! Who can’t be everywhere all the time! And by everywhere, I mean digitally everywhere, which of course we all are.

I love how Facetime allows me to see my best friend’s face when we have a conversation, even though she lives across the country. I love that I can send a text to people to let them know I’m thinking about them.

But do we realize the cost these things have? On our souls? Worlds used to be confined to the people you saw, face to face in real actual life, in a day. Now our worlds are as big as literal reality. I can talk to anyone, anywhere, at anytime.

I don’t know if that is a gift.

So I’m trying out a world in which I am forcing myself to not be able to do that, because if I’m being honest I’m not strong enough to say no to the drug of omniscience. I’m too desperate for control, too ignorant in thinking that I can be everything to everyone, that I am the ultimate helper, problem-solver, soul-healer.

Good Lord, I am not.

And it’s lighter that way.

Follow along to see how going light changes the way I see life. I’m excited to be on the journey and share it with you, too.

Love and Light,

Audrey