Solitude, Sovereignty, and the Unlearning of Urgency
There’s a part of me that used to panic at the idea of leaving the house without my phone.
What if someone needed me? What if I missed something important? What if… what if…?
Or seemingly worse, if I did forget or intentionally leave it behind, I’d have that moment of “darn it why don’t I have my phone/camera!?”
But the longer I sat in the discomfort of stillness, something powerful emerged.
Solitude. Real, sacred, nourishing solitude.
Not scrolling while alone. Not multitasking while listening to a podcast. Not checking my phone in line at the store. Not filling the void.
I mean actual no input, no screen, just me and my thoughts solitude. It’s deafening if you’re not ready for it.
The Ritual of Solitude
Inspired by Cal Newport’s practices in Digital Minimalism, I began integrating intentional solitude into my days:
- Leaving my phone in the glovebox (so it’s there in case of emergency).
- Walking long distances without earbuds (so you can absorb the healing sounds of nature).
- Writing letters to myself in a Moleskine journal (because paper to pen really matters).
- Sitting in nature without the pressure to document it (because this is meditation).
And I realized…
I already had moments like these — in the garden, making medicine, out foraging — but I wasn’t honoring them as sacred. I didn’t recognize them as solitude because I was still tethered to urgency.
Birthday Reflections & Facebook Detachment
During my digital detox I had a birthday. I walked to Starbucks for my free drink, watched the full moon falling and a hot air balloon rising into the sky, and chose not to look at the 200+ Facebook birthday messages (because I couldn’t. In fact, come to find later, I was never able to find them!).
And honestly?
The 25 text messages I received (and the additional 25 I got after the detox to my FB inbox) — the ones from people who knew I was off social, or just wanted to connect directly — felt so much more genuine. They felt human.
Facebook has trained us to offer drive-by love. Click HBD. Move on. Ouch.
And I’m so over that.
Do I Always Have to “Coach the Thing?”
This detox also stirred something deeper. A question that echoed through my mind:
Do I have to coach the thing I’m doing in the moment?
This habit of turning every life moment into content… was trained into me by network marketing and my entrepreneur coaches.
But what if I could just live something without documenting it?
What if my wisdom didn’t come from always showing the thing — but from having lived it, deeply and quietly?
Yes, I’m a guide. A mentor. A medicine woman in training. But maybe it’s time to let my presence speak louder than my posts.
Maybe “Exit the Matrix” Isn’t Clear Enough
This week brought another clarity bomb:
Even the phrase “Exit the Matrix” may be confusing to some.
It’s catchy. It’s cinematic. But it might not communicate the grounded truth of what I’m really offering.
People may not realize that exiting the matrix looks like:
- growing your food,
- breaking free of digital addiction,
- detoxing your body,
- finding sovereignty in health, money, and energy.
So maybe the Red Pill Sisterhood needs a translation layer. Less metaphor. More meaning.
The Like Button Is a Mule
Reading Newport’s research on social media’s psychological effects wrecked me a little.
We’re biologically designed for deep, rich, face-to-face connection. The “like” button reduces our processing power to a single digital bit. As he says:
“It’s like towing a Ferrari behind a mule.”
It’s not just shallow. It’s insulting to the human brain.
No wonder we feel lonely even after hours of digital “connection.”
Reclaiming Leisure
True leisure isn’t passive consumption. It’s active reflection, creation, and contribution.
From Creative Focus in a World of Distraction to Aristotle’s views on contemplation — it all points to the same truth:
We are meant to make things. With our hands. Our hearts. Our time.
Since this detox began, I’ve stopped taking as many photos. I’ve left my phone behind. And not once have I said, “Where’s my phone?”
That alone is worth everything.
In fact, I watched my family on this vacation: deep in the scroll hole, laughing at something and then eager to show you (except it’s only funny to them), saying “hey did you see this?” “Oh right, no you didn’t.” And yet also, they took a page from my book at dinners, the phones were in a pocket, not on the table, not Googling every little thing, not tempting us.
It was eye-opening, refreshing, and something worth saving.
Homesteading is the New High Quality Leisure
Newport suggests one of his weekly practices is to “build or fix something.”
Um… hello. Homesteaders already do that. Every. Single. Week.
Fixing, creating, troubleshooting, adapting — it’s not just a lifestyle, it’s a daily brain workout that keeps us present and fulfilled.
We don’t need screens to feel entertained. We need purpose. I love this. I live this.
Final Realizations Before Reentry
- I’m not as detached as I thought, but I’m more aware.
- We are programmed to a slot machine. It’s time to cut the cord. Could I actually switch to a flip phone??
- This detox was just about social media… but what if it expanded to include all screens? What if we did it monthly? Even for just a weekend?
- True freedom comes from sovereignty — of attention, time, identity, and energy.
- Maybe… I don’t want to go back. No. I definitely don’t want to go back.
And if I do?
It will be with ritual, boundaries, and reverence.
Coming Up Next:
Part 4: Reentry Rituals, New Boundaries, and Leading Others Toward Digital Liberation
If you missed parts 1, 2 or the intro to why I chose to detox from the digital… you can view all blogs here.
