Disconnections

NOTE: I’m writing this paragraph for the third time. Twice last week, as I was preparing this post, and now again this morning. It’s also moved from a post-scriptum to the opening lines.

The war in Ukraine is an atrocity. I wrote about it in the last newsletter, and frankly, I have trouble grasping the enormity of it all. The Russian leaders are proving themselves to be liars, despotes, and war criminals. They show no honour or decency. Today’s offer of safe passage for Ukrainians into enemy territory skips over cynicism altogether, and goes straight to the heart of cruelty.

I’ve added a link in my website’s menu to the official donation page of the Ukrainian Red Cross. Apple also added UNICEF links over the weekend. I’m sure other platforms offer similar opportunities. In this context, any words I write—including the ones that will follow—feel like over-privileged fluff.

But we go on. And we live. And we hope.

…

It’s great to be back. I have to admit, I felt a little off not actively engaging with the blog, regularly, for an entire month. But the #kage202202 project was a rewarding experience for me (and us), so it was definitely worth it.

This is more of a wordy post than a visual one btw. Ironically, it’s also about taking a break. 

I’ve been thinking (and reading) about focus lately. In fact, I recently finished a fascinating book on the subject by British journalist Johann Hari, called Stolen Focus, which I highly recommend. There’s an in-depth interview with him on Vox that offers a good summary if you’re interested. In the book, he cites several studies pointing to a decline of humanity’s attention span over the last century. Paradoxically, it seems that as our ability to pump out and disseminate information expanded (first through newspapers, then radio, tv, the internet…), our capacity to focus and reflect deeply on any given subject diminished. Basically: it’s all too fast and we no longer have enough time to process. So we skim. Which leads to a collective lack of understanding or discernment…which, unfortunately, explains much of our current social woes—where bread and games and clickbait headlines now define people’s realities. Overall, most of the author’s research and conclusions mimic my own thoughts and experiences: I’ve felt first hand the stifling effects of our social and technological environment on my capacity to focus over the years. In fact, I can pinpoint the exact moment when life changed—a before and after. I once would spend entire evenings sitting in my apartment, alone, doing nothing but listening to music and allowing my brain to drift and sway and tumble. Mind-wandering was a normal, everyday activity back then, from a very young age. Or I’d paint for hours, on discarded pieces of cardboard, spread out over my living room floor. Until I bought my first computer. 

The Mac quickly became the central core of most of my activities—from drawing to research, to gameplay and music-making/listening, photography…everything moved to the machine. Because the machine was all-powerful. It was the personal laboratory I’d always dreamed of owning, where anything was suddenly possible. Limitless. And yet, confining.

My entire life entered a box. Soon, I could no longer just sit on the couch and let my thoughts bounce around for hours. Restlessness would quickly set in, impossible to dismiss. Then came iPhone. iPad. Social media. 

The Acceleration.

I don’t intend this to be an anti-tech diatribe (the book goes beyond that as well). The truth is, I still marvel at technology and what it allows us to create. But I’ve also been on a deliberate path for change since January, on several levels, and part of this involves reclaiming abilities I seem to have lost over the years. Well, perhaps not lost, but misplaced. Reclaiming silence and true aimlessness. Teaching my mind to breathe again on its own. Outside the machine.

...

Seventh Week Sabbatical

I first heard about the Seventh Week Sabbatical through The Sweet Setup, but I believe the idea originates with workaholic-turned-author-podcaster Sean McCabe. Now, to be honest, it’s the sort of ready-made concept I tend to run away from: yet another productivity hack, yet another newsletter, and book…milk, rinse, and repeat. 

But in this pursuit of allowing space for thoughts, and especially in the context of structuring and time-blocking—this makes sense to me. I like the idea of creating time for what essentially amounts to a week-long personal retreat.

So I’m trying it out this year. Not as a luxury but as a deliberate assignment. I’m not crazy about the term sabbatical, so they’re marked as flow weeks in my calendar—but that’s just semantics. The goal is the same: no schedule, no predetermined tasks, no obligations.

The first one is coming up and admittedly, it’s been a bit of a challenge preparing for it: I realized it required a certain amount of organization. Space is fine, but it also means getting stuff out of the way. The idea isn’t to slack off but to make room, without foregoing responsibilities.

Analog Days

I’m also adding another layer: I’ve assigned two days as analog. It’s something I’ve been meaning to try for a while, and it seems like a perfect opportunity. I’m not going FULL analog here—it is 2022 after all. If we were in a cabin somewhere, then sure—we’ve gone without devices for days on camping trips. But home is a different story. So it’s just a set of rules for myself:

• iPhone: off.

• iPad: off.

• Mac: use only for music recording if inspiration strikes.

• TV: allowed, but only in the evening (as usual).

• Kindle: allowed.

• PS4: not allowed.

• Cameras: allowed, but images won’t be imported until flow week has ended.

• Internet: allowed for music, tv/movies.

• No news (except for 6 pm TV).

• No email.

• No social media.

If I feel the itch to write, I’ll use my typewriter and later import via Apple’s (rather terrific) new OCR feature. We’ll see how it goes.

The Forest

I’ve taken breaks before, obviously, but this feels different. It’s not a vacation or a holiday either, but a very intentional experiment. I’m hoping for clarity and inspiration…but I’m also ready to accept total emptiness. Maybe it doesn’t lead anywhere. Maybe results are negligible. Maybe I just spend an entire week bored out of my mind.

But when we stop walking, we usually look around and notice the trees. Who knows? That may be enough.

P.S There’s a new book coming very soon, something that’s been in the works for years. Also: thanks to scheduling, there will be photography posts while I’m out :)