a holiday from deciding
something I know about 'digital detoxes' because I grew up an Orthodox Jew
It’s Friday afternoon of a long hot week in London. The sun will be setting in a couple of hours time. And because this feels comforting and familiar to me - and more importantly because increasingly I think it’s actively a good thing to do in the constantly-on digital world - I am making some decisions for myself in advance.
Decisions like… loading a couple of movies I’ve meant to watch for a while onto the big iPad. Making sure the books I’m reading right now are on my Kindle - or that I have paper copies to hand. Printing out (yes) a couple of long articles I’ve been meaning to get to and making sure the new edition of the New Yorker has downloaded onto the app1. Downloading some podcast episodes (and deciding which ones I can skip), audiobooks and a few whole albums (remember?). Making sure I have all the ingredients to hand for quick-to-assemble meals for tomorrow. Even texting to make some arrangements to see people I love at a particular times of day tomorrow.
And then… I’m turning the wifi off on the Kindle, the iPad and my phone. I’m spending a couple of minutes going through the phone and turning mobile data off on a bunch of my apps (you can do this on an iPhone by going to Settings, Mobile Service, and then scrolling down to Mobile Data for Primary. Each app has a little button next to it). You turn it off and then all you have on your phone is… what’s on your phone. Not the whole contents of the entire world. There. That feels better.
It’s very lowkey, this method. I usually leave messaging apps and maps on but turn email off. Social media goes off but my Slack stays on because I use it to talk to friends. It’s vibes-based. What do I want the day to feel like? I’m willing to experiment. What I mostly want it to feel like is: there is no more infinite scroll and no more endless choice. The choices are made. Here I am, landing in my life.
The work of rest
Here’s something people typically don’t know about a strict Sabbath: a lot of the wisdom of it is in what you don’t have to make decisions about. And that takes a bit of work in advance.
In the home I grew up in Friday afternoon before the start of Shabbat was a period of incredibly urgent activity. Our observance was strict: from sunset on Friday to sunset on Saturday there was no shopping. No cooking. No driving. No writing, no drawing. No endless searching through Netflix for something to watch (we didn’t watch TV or use the internet at all). No carrying anything but keys outside the house or changing the state of anything electrical (you could leave lights on a timer).
It made for a peaceful day because the things you could do were: reading, talking to family and friends, going for a walk, visiting synagogue or other people’s houses, singing together, having a nap, playing a boardgame.
But that didn’t mean that going into Shabbat was a wafty meditative experience. It meant that everything had to be done in advance. We went to the library on Friday to get books for Shabbes. We opened the packets and boxes we might need, set the timer on the hot-water heater and the hot-plate, prepared the food, made sure all the shul clothes were washed and ready, everyone had their bath or shower. We called so-and-so to see how they were, we took the thing round to the place we were visiting tomorrow, we made sure the lights are off in all the bedrooms. I once had the idea that I could make an 18-minute film about the 18 minutes before the Sabbath which are filled with shouting “have you put the timeswitch on?! Have you checked the fridge light?!?!”
The intense activity before the Sabbath wasn’t a bug, it was a feature. It ought to be work to make sure that the Sabbath will go well, you’re doing your work in advance to give yourself true time off for 25 hours. You take your hand off the wheel of the world. You’ve been your own butler and housekeeper and indeed your own librarian: everything’s decided, everything will run like clockwork, you can land in your life and just be. All the decisions were already made.
The version of this I do now is 100% not as hardcore as the version I did growing up, and I definitely can’t claim it’s “Orthodox Judaism”. It’s just something inspired by the lessons I learned, and how I’ve reflected on them as the information crisis gathers pace. I haven’t been a practising Orthodox Jew now for nearly twenty years but I’ve recently thought more and more that the ‘holiday from deciding’ is a massively important kind of cognitive rest.
Sifting infinity
There’s a lot of talk now about ‘not using screens’. And this is complex. The screens that we have are often designed by enormous teams headed by extractive and often outright evil billionaires who just want our eyeballs on their advertising for as long as possible. So yes, the things that come to us through screens are often not great. And there’s some wisdom in thinking about what you’re looking at - experience the world as it is, not just a series of images.
But also I think one of the problems of ‘screens’ is that they are now a window into a world of infinite choice. And the choice itself is completely overwhelming and exhausting.
I have frequently sat down in the evening thinking “I’ll just watch a movie” only to realise that an hour’s gone past and all I’ve done is to look at the titles of a bunch of movies I might watch, think about them for a second, imagine what it’d be like to watch them and then move on. (Much could be said about the online dating experience.) That’s the opposite of a satisfying evening. Moment-by-moment the functionally infinite choice of songs, TV shows, films, games, books offered by the modern download-anything-instantly world is not really liberating, it’s just exhausting. I’m reminded of Borges’ Library of Babel, a library which contains every possible book, most of which aren’t in any language at all and just contain nonsense and therefore is not a pleasure but a torment (incidentally if you like this story there’s a very fun little book called A Short Stay In Hell which treats it very convincingly as a blueprint for a kind of hell). None of us has enough personality or Strongly Held Taste And Opinions to be able to sift through infinity every evening for the one perfect thing that’ll match our mood. You need someone to just make a blooming decision for you.
In the case of this kind of Sabbath that person can be you. You have a think in advance about your own tastes and you download some stuff or make some plans or cook some meals so that you can enjoy your own hard work and thoughtfulness.
The joy of disconnect
And what does it feel like to do this? Do you know that feeling when you’re on a plane and they announce that the wifi isn’t working? And you have a moment of irritation and worry about the emails you were supposed to reply to before realising that oh my god no one can reach you and you don’t have to do anything and you can just read your book or watch some movies or type up some thoughts for your book or whatever and there will be no interruptions? And time opens up in this new-yet-familiar way, like the incredibly summer long afternoons of childhood, like new empty quiet rooms opening in your mind? Yeah, that. Sinking into the actual passage of time. Experiencing one single day as long enough to have three well thought-out meals, a good walk, read a whole book from cover to cover, have a good conversation and watch an excellent film.
A Lowkey Sabbath Toolkit
Here are a few things to try, if you want to try it.
Friday afternoon:
Download from the streaming services. Most media has an offline mode. Make your choices in advance. You get better at this the more you do it - it doesn’t have to all be Deeply Important Works. I read a lot of collected comics from the library on Shabbat. (Oh god now someone’s going to say that comics are also important. I mean it doesn’t have to be dry and boring and ‘Sabbath-ey’.)
Prepare some meals. Use a slow-cooker, pre-cook something to have cold for lunch. If you like cooking and find it restful at least do the annoying bits in advance.
Do the washing. Go round and pick up bits around the house. Imagine a friend who loves you very much is coming to stay and you definitely don’t need to make it perfect for her but you just want the place to be restful for you both.
Put your work stuff away. Just on a shelf or in a drawer so you’re not staring at things that remind you of all your obligations.
Make a plan to see someone in real life. Like, make a reservation at a restaurant or book a ticket to something or agree a time you’re coming over.
Friday evening to Saturday evening:
WiFi off, mobile data on (and have a very careful think about what you use that mobile data for. For me maps will always be an essential but I have dyspraxia and I can’t find my way anywhere.)
No browsing. Just enjoy what you’ve already chosen.
Probably there’s nothing you need to buy? You could just like… jot it down, if there’s something important.
Consider using a paper and pencil to do that with.
Creativity, some thoughts… In Orthodox Judaism (WHICH THIS IS NOT) on a Sabbath one wouldn’t do creative stuff like drawing, painting, writing or playing a musical instrument. And also obviously one wouldn’t do any actual paid work. I find this whole area tricky because my great joy in life is my creative work and being separated from it feels like a punishment. So, I refuse this bit which is very very not-Orthodox of me. However, I think there is a great wisdom in thinking about this and asking yourself which bits feel like a restful pleasure and which feel exhausting. Even if you love gardening it might be worth wondering whether it could be good to have a day a week where you just enjoy your garden rather than digging in it. Even loving novel-writing as I do, it is not a terrible idea to have a day a week of mulling not writing. So I’m not recommending this but I maybe am recommending thinking about it.
Slow time
I feel actively excited about my lowkey quasi-Sabbaths when they come round because the quality of time I experience in them is so different. I don’t get that feeling of “wow how did it get to x time?” Instead, time elongates and opens up. Ideas bubble to the surface. I get to understand what my body is asking for more clearly - a walk, a stretch, a bath, a big drink of water - because I’m not constantly scanning for some new opportunity for interest or pleasure online.
The concept of this Substack is that I’m going to write about things that work, for me, even if they are mildly embarrassing. Just to be honest about what I do and what works. And this is one of those things. It’s not the Orthodox Judaism I was raised in. But neither is it a million miles away from it. I suppose that’s where I live.
Do let me know if you try out any of these thoughts and get benefit from them - or if it doesn’t work for you at all! Or I’d love to hear about practices you’ve adapted from your own culture.