I’ve often been jealous of the people who write about putting down the phone and then start noticing and appreciating things.
I want to notice and appreciate things. I’ve spent well over two hundred hours commuting across London without a phone (wearing high vis no less) - I should be the king of noticing and appreciating by now.
But with the occasional exception (read about that here), I fail each and every day.
A comment made by a reader - WolfepakMom - stayed with me. The underground is an incredible engineering operation. I must spend around fifteen minutes each day walking through the quarter mile of mazy tunnels that is the Bank/Monument complex. She asked whether, with my attention free from my phone, it was possible to appreciate the extraordinary labour and ingenuity that went into it.
The idea appealed, and I read up about it. There are some amazing stories about how Bank/Monument was built. At one point, the engineers had to buy a church’s crypt and rebury thousands of bodies. The two directions of the Central Line are stacked on top of each other - and follow a winding trajectory - purely because the engineers had to follow the path of medieval streets metres above.
I filled my head with stories like these, put on my high vis, rolled up my sleeves and got ready to start appreciating. I was already dreaming of an article like “The Bank/Monument Complex Is Like A Cathedral To Me Now”.
But when I got there, it was the same as it always was. It’s just an underground station. All the reading in the world, all the time in the world… I cannot summon awe and wonder when I’m there.
The most likely thing is that I’m just crap at this.
But to be more charitable, maybe I’ve trained a failure of imagination in myself.
When I learnt to meditate, I repeatedly and deliberately paid attention to something that was real, present and in front of me - sounds, my breath, a sight. I did this day in, day out and soon enough my mind got used to it.
That always felt like the opposite of the phone’s mental training. The phone is about the abstract, about the other. About faraway lands, the past and the future. It takes my mind all over the shop.
It’s just a chunk of metal and glass, but never in human history has an object been so dissociated from its physical form.
By spending more time training to be present and less on my phone, I believe I’ve tipped the scales. That has meant increasingly when I’m at home with my family, I’m at home with my family. Fewer mental invasions from work or world worries, or overthinking and negative self-talk. It’s not like I choose to be present in these moments through an act of will… it’s more like my mind settles naturally into it.
It’s quite the prize. But it has meant that when I’m confronted with walls in an underground station, no matter how hard I try, I just see walls in an underground station.
I will though concede an occasional curious moment. Every now and then when I’m commuting through London I have the sensation of being a very young child. I couldn’t figure out what was going on until recently. Here’s my suspicion.
Through being present on the Underground I am looking at everything afresh. It isn’t wonderful - it just is what it is. The last time I looked at the Underground afresh was the first time I saw it. I lived in Essex, and we would occasionally come into London when I was a kid, to go to the Natural History Museum or wherever.
The Bank/Monument complex is no cathedral. But just occasionally walking through it is like listening to a song that reminds me of my childhood.
Almost enough to make up for the queues.
Thanks so much for reading! If you know anyone who’s tired of their phone use (or if there’s anyone whose phone use you are tired of) please share this with them.
This is part of a series of articles following 1,000 hours of silence on the London commute. The very strange story of how that started is here.
All my posts, both new and archive, are free and are neatly categorised at phonefreewill.com.
Lovely piece. Thanks for reminding me to put my phone down every day.