STOCKBRIDGE, Massachusetts -- I went into rehab recently.
It wasn't to treat substance abuse, though both drugs and alcohol are banned at the facility I checked myself into. Rather, I went to free myself from the noise that is disrupting our mental health in the 21st century.
I shut off my phone and laptop and locked them away for three days. But this was more than a digital detox: I joined 50 other people in taking a vow of silence. Instead of scrolling or chatting, we spent hours in guided meditation and the rest of the time alone with our thoughts. As silent retreats go, this one was brief. But I had never kept quiet for so long in my life, and I hadn't been without my electronics for that long since I got my first iPhone 18 years ago.
I craved the unplugging, but I was admittedly skeptical about elements of the experiment. I didn't think I had the patience for meditation, and my few previous attempts at yoga typically ended with the administration of Advil. I rolled my eyes at some of the instructions served up by session leaders (they're allowed to talk): "Breathe into the back of the leg like it was a stream." "Feel the fountain of light in your heart space." "Let's take our thumb to the inseam and clear the liver energy channel."
For (silent) giggles, I signed up for one treatment that involved "using herbally infused oil to help balance your dosha," and another in which "practitioners create a 'heart link' to connect to the angelic realm." I skipped the "metaphysical" treatments such as tarot reading and astrology because they would compromise my vow of silence.
But underneath all that woo, I also found something true. The silent unplugging made me appreciate, in ways I hadn't fully understood, how much my phone has hijacked my attention. In the notification-free quiet, I wondered: Have I forgotten how to just be?
Of course, the world's religions have been practicing forms of monastic silence for thousands of years. The difference is those ancient orders, and even those who went on silent retreats in pre-smartphone decades, didn't have Instagram accounts. Now, when we go into silence and turn off our devices, we are entirely isolated. In our always-on, hyperconnected world, this is disorienting.
I expected I would go through some digital withdrawal, and that happened. Dozens of times, I felt an involuntary urge to reach for my phone: to check the time, to take a picture, to see if the snow had canceled my flight, to look up "upma" before ladling some onto my plate, to order Valentine's Day flowers, to find out what I was missing and who was trying to reach me. It felt unnatural not to be scrolling while waiting for a session to begin.
But something else happened during those three days that I didn't expect -- and it was frightening.
I was blindsided by the kaleidoscope of emotions that poured out in the silence. In the absence of distractions from the phone, my thoughts bombarded me in random ways. I felt variously bored and anxious, clear-eyed and confused. One moment, I felt myself floating blissfully above the snow-covered hills -- until I was awakened by my own snore. At another point in meditation, while I concentrated on my deep breathing, sadness suddenly overcame me as my brain transported me back 18 years to my mother's deathbed and her breathing, weak and sporadic.
A day into the silence, I felt like taking a nap, and the urge intensified into thorough exhaustion. I took a walk outside and gobbled a few cookies in hopes of a sugar boost, to no avail. I fell asleep before dinner and, after rallying for the evening meditation session, was out for the night by 8:30 p.m.
The instructor said she often sees this reaction. Some people experience an adrenaline crash as their stressed minds and bodies adjust to the calm. But it also turns out that suddenly shutting off external stimuli and turning attention inward can demand a startling amount of energy.
"We are often so externally focused that we don't recognize what is going on in our minds, and when we begin to pay attention to that, it's genuinely exhausting for most people," Richard Davidson, a University of Wisconsin psychologist who studies meditation. It also can make us more anxious, at least at first.
Yet this shift is what ultimately improves our sense of well-being. Studies routinely show that moving from involuntary attention capture (what happens when your phone sends you notifications) to voluntary attention (when we choose to examine our own thoughts, or admire forms in nature or art) reduces our levels of stress, depression and loneliness, and improves our cognitive function.
Unfortunately, few of us escape the involuntary distraction of our devices, even for a few days. A landmark study in 2010, at the dawn of the smartphone age, found that people didn't pay attention to what they were doing 47 percent of the time -- and Davidson said that has probably increased.
"Compared to the way people performed 50 years ago, before cellphones and the internet, we are objectively more distractible," he said. "We have an attention deficit, if we're honest with ourselves." This is why our phones have made us less attentive to our children, our spouses, our work and our studies.
But the exhaustion I felt that night points to an even deeper problem: Our phones are making it harder to know ourselves.
I did my silent retreat here at the Kripalu Center for Yoga & Health in part because it's relatively cheap (rates including meals and program start at $583 for dormitory-style lodging, and there are need-based discounts) and the three-day, two-night program felt less intimidating than longer ones. The 1950s facility, a former monastery that the state once considered converting into a prison, is not luxurious; there were water stains on the ceiling tiles in my room, and part of my nightstand was held together with Scotch tape.
But people don't come here for the amenities; they come to "disconnect from the craziness," as my retreat leader, Jess Frey, put it.
That was certainly my goal. I arrived in a frazzle after a tough week at work and in the world. Waze had sent me down the wrong road. ADT had just called to say my burglar alarm was going off. (My security cameras revealed the culprits to be wild turkeys pecking at the door.) I made a last check of emails, texts, Slack, Signal and WhatsApp, and sent a final text to my wife. My family and my editor had the number for Kripalu’s front desk in case of emergency.
I locked my phone and laptop in the car -- only to return a few hours later because I feared subzero temperatures would ruin the batteries. I was wearing an “In loving silence” placard around my neck, but a talkative fellow in the parking lot hadn’t gotten the memo.
“Excuse me, can you tell me where check-in is?”
I pointed in the same direction as all the signs.
“Thank you!” he called out.
I waved.
He spied my University of Virginia ski cap. “Go Cavs, by the way!” he persisted.
I ignored him, then went to lock my devices in my room’s safe to reduce temptation.
Kripalu, originally rooted in Hindu traditions, is now nonreligious and eclectic -- extremely so. After check-in, I stopped in at the Healing Arts center where a practitioner said she would be “releasing energy blockages” in me. She would achieve this through use of a “high-vibrational frequency” that emanated from her hands as she waved them over me while moving her eyes beneath her closed lids. She paused to take notes as she administered the treatment. “I was on your heart chakra,” she told me after the session. While listening to my heart chakra, she heard the words of Bob Marley and wrote them down for me: “Every little thing gonna be right.”
Next, I participated in a “gentle yoga” session where we made mudras—hand gestures—that looked like corgis. The instructor disclosed the presence of an “inner waterfall” and taught us a mantra: “As I learn to let go, my life becomes an effortless flow.”
This yoga seemed a bit too gentle so I took it up a notch to “moderate yoga” for my next two classes. At each of those impossibly flexible women in Lululemon attire turned themselves into swimmers skiers runners dogs snakes boats bows trees warriors (exalted peaceful humble). My wobbly attempts resembled theirs not in the slightest; I left both sessions injured-warrior pose crick neck sciatic pain. Even closing “Om” proved problematic: Wouldn’t break vow silence?
The silent meditation was more to my taste. Frey—who launched silent retreats five years ago—explained what we were here to learn: “Who am I when I’m not addicted to my phone and don’t have that thing buzzing on me all day long? ... Who am I when I’m not scrolling on social media all day long?” Silence, she explained, “naturally slows us down and gives us a moment to land back inside of ourselves,to reinhabit this body that we live in.”
But if silence slowed us down,Frey kept rigorous pace teaching us no fewer than 10 meditation techniques done while seated standing walking reclining.In between,she dispensed aphorisms urging us embrace “a radical acceptance of who you are,where you are as you are,”and offered prompts for us answer journals:“Where is great river life carrying you?”
Others seemed have feared unplugging even more than I did.One woman,before going silence,confessed she planned sneak looks her phone room at night.One man brought small safe retreat.He put phone watch Friday set timer wouldn’t open Sunday afternoon—unless broke open safe hammer.
At end weekend,Jennifer Shaer one participants said “it very uncomfortable” realize powerfully felt pull phone.
Another,Amy Schwenkmeyer,told constantly feeling “that habit kick just reflex” reaching phone.“It scared me,”she said.
One man told after retreat thinking switching flip-phone only phone calls intrude day.But not many us freedom go do-not-disturb long stretches time.“There always feeling somehow doing wrong doing,”Anna Fuentes younger participant told me.“This feels only place actually that okay.”
My own experience Kripalu incomplete.Because there describe experience,I definition not being moment—which whole point silent retreat.And yet intense exhaustion suggested something powerful happened brain.After long sleep,left better spirits clearer head—and no doubt came primarily being off infernal phone.
When finally turned back had 78 text messages waiting couple hundred emails.None urgent.
At present,I sojourner civilized life again,to borrow from Thoreau.But contented one.I plan try turning devices Saturdays spending part day contemplation.Maybe switch SIM card old flip-phone during time,in case emergencies.I’ll let know goes.
And if you’ve found way shut “involuntary attention capture,”please let me know.As heart chakra likes say,let’s get together feel all right.