Analog Living

I tighten my coat and hurry through thick cold raindrops towards my friend Parisa’s apartment for our weekly writing circle. Inside, warm uplighting illuminates carefully curated art. She lavishes me with offerings - steaming cardamom tea, a spread of breakfast fare, and a vase of fragrant hyacinths, which she holds out.

“Smell them,” she insists.

We settle into our corners and begin writing, filling the room with the sounds of soft tapping on keys. Outside, tires swish through puddles and thunder rumbles, adding depth to the harmonious hum of drizzling rain.

These days, my devices tend to amplify my anxiety, immersing me in a million worlds and possibilities. But tuning into these sensory sights and sounds grounds me in where I actually am.

Here.

Now.

Which is why this month, I’m creating a challenge for myself. I'm calling it Analog April - a month of embracing a more analog lifestyle.

The Return of Analog

Analog living is having a renaissance lately, with a rise in wrist watches and vinyl records. What started as nostalgia is gaining footing among a younger generation using these objects for the first time. To me, it feels like defiance, a resistance movement of sorts.

At first, the instant connectivity of emails, cell phones, and social media was empowering. Then came the ads and the algorithms. Our attention became commodified, as companies paid millions to fight for every free moment of space in our brain.

Digital devices started as tools, things we used to do tasks. But what do we call it when these tools start using us, instead?

For me, Analog April isn’t so much about restriction as it is reclamation. Attention is our most valuable asset, and if we don’t take control of it, someone else will.

My month hasn’t started with any major changes, but rather a few simple experiments to loosen the tether of notifications, and be more intentional with my attention.

Dumbing down my Smartphone

Dumbphones are what some people are calling flip phones these days, and they’re getting pretty popular. Twenty-year olds are trading in the iPhones they grew up with for their first-ever flip phone. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not getting a flip phone anytime soon. I like my phones like I like my men - smart and multi-faceted. Mostly, I’m not ready to try navigating at night with a hand-drawn map. But, in an effort to dumb down the distractions, I did delete 95% of my apps, including social media, email, and internet browsers. The last one was the most challenging, but I have found that sitting down at my desk forces me to approach internet use more purposefully than the aimless scrolling that tends to happen on my phone.

Real Books & Paper

Studies say we have 6-8 times higher reading comprehension when we read on paper. Really, I’m just here for the musty pages. I often google the cliff’s notes online, but this month, I got a library card and checked out a stack of physical books.

Similarly, I’m using more real paper this month. We use different neurons and brain pathways when we write by hand on paper versus typing on a device. Simply put, putting a pen to paper sparks more creativity, helps you remember things better, yada yada yada. Google it and you’ll get the point. Will I experience any major changes from writing more on physical paper for a month? We’ll see.

Morning pages is a practice I first learned about from The Artist's Way, by Julia Cameron. Each day starts by writing three pages on physical paper without stopping, not letting your pen leave the paper until you have filled three pages with unfiltered thoughts.

Similarly, I’ve bought a small notebook to jot down the thoughts and queries that typically fill the thousands of digital notes and hundreds of browser tabs on my phone, inspired by this video.

Progress always brings criticism. Socrates blamed the invention of writing for the loss of memory. Fitness used to be a function of survival until the conveniences of our modern lifestyles stripped us of the need for bodily exertion. Now, we spend ten minutes driving around in a parking lot to find the closest parking stall, so we don’t have to walk five minutes to the gym to get on a treadmill. Similarly, AI has taken over some of the most basic tasks we used to consider irreplaceable. I can’t help but wonder if one day we will also go to brain gyms to exercise the mental muscles we used to use as part of our normal lives?

Perhaps the secret lies in finding a way to balance gains against unforeseen losses.

I once interviewed Ward Yamashita, the owner of a small record store, for a magazine feature and asked why he thought records were becoming so popular. While some attributed the growing appeal to a difference in sound quality, he felt it went much deeper. Unlike digital listening devices you can take anywhere, records force you to sit and listen, creating a more intentional experience. “The quality is better simply because you’re giving more of yourself to it,” he explained, “it’s kind of a personal meditative experience.”

The other night, I was out with a group of friends, when I recognized another friend walking by. He stopped to chat, then pulled out an old film camera (circa world war two, he informed us) and offered to take our photo. As his flash popped, the waitress walked into the frame, unintentionally caught in the shot. When he sent us the print, we all had a laugh over the photobomb. If it were a phone, my friend might have offered to take five more frames until we got it right. But there’s something beautiful about the very real moment that was captured.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not ready to holster my digital devices anytime soon. I am writing this from my laptop, after all. But as I write out my morning pages on physical paper, I will be reflecting on the genuine moments I discover through this month’s experimentation.