Although the external situation was quite different (that was the depth of winter and we are still in the midst of a serious summer here), I encountered a similar internal condition a few years ago. At that point I went off-line for a day and also decided to consider committing to a lifestyle that included, as Vietnamese Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh suggests, spending one day a week as a Day of Mindfulness. Here's that day's post. Stay tuned for more.
After a week in Chicago with my son and his family (complete with daily overdoses of internet, iPhone and television), then a long delayed flight day back to the Pioneer Valley on the tail of one snowstorm, then two full days of non-stop activity on Sunday and Monday with Winter Storm Juno glowering on the horizon, I found myself spending hours and hours on Tuesday plugged into the Weather Channel's livestream broadcast, immersed in the media excitement of the blizzard that pummeled the Northeast and dumped 36 inches of snow an hour east of here.
Of course, well primed and pumped, I was multitasking all day as well. Texting and instant messaging and emailing and FaceTiming and surfing the web in search of this bit of information or that bit of Facebook news or gossip, I was constantly "connected" to colleagues, family and friends, wired for action.
I was Busy. Buzzing. Buzzed.
I bopped until I dropped, bone-tired, at about midnight.
On Wednesday morning when I rolled over to look at the silent snowscape outside the window and listened to the birds twittering within the silence of a brand new day, I knew immediately. The decision emerged from my bones, not my head.
I was done.
I needed to pull the plug -- literally and figuratively. I had spent way too many hours spread across way too many days immersed in my own version of the hyper-cyber modern mainstream mode. It was time to turn off all the devices, hang a "gone fishing" sign on the door of my life, and spend the the day in silence.
Of course, I couldn't just disappear. (I'd done that once before in my life in a dramatic and extremely unskillful fashion. A long story best left for another time.)
So, I quickly checked the calendar. Breathing a sigh of relief, I then scribed a note of explanation to my housemates to prevent any embarrassing confusion about my silence during possible encounters that day. Being responsible, I quickly responded to two texts with a similar explanation and turned off the iPhone. Being irresponsible, I decided against taking the time to do a general email, a Facebook post, etc. ( I mean really!?)
Instead, I brushed my teeth, peed. Then I walked across the room to my little corner of the world, bowed, lit a stick of incense -- and Sat Still Doing Nothing!
And I walked. And I sat.
And I walked. And I sat.
By the time I crawled away to bed Wednesday night, I had spent about 5 hours on the zafu in formal meditation in my room and a half hour Sitting on the Greenfield Town Commons.
Eschewing reading (even dharma books), I had done about an hour of Hatha Yoga, taken a walk, cleaned my room, watered and staked up a jade plant that had gone horizontal in search of the sun, prepared and eaten three meals and cleaned up afterwards and, of course, made a number of trips to the bathroom. (My prostrate seems to be almost 69 years old, although I, of course, am much younger than that most the time.)
For about 14 hours, I had not looked at a screen or a printed page or listened to any sound through any form of electronic device.
The only spoken words exchanged all day were a with my Dharmabuddhy Paul to let him know that I was doing a day of silence when he connected to pick me up for our ride to the #OMG! Peace Vigil at noon in town -- and my brief response to a very juicy "Hi! How are you?" from a bright-eyed young woman,