the case for downtime
A friend observed, this weekend:
“People talk a lot less now. We text, email, IM. But we don’t talk. As Siri takes hold of the next wave of advancement, what if we find ourselves talking to devices more than we talk to other people?”
Scary thought.
As more of our human interactions are mediated by technology, it becomes increasingly difficult to discern subtext, motive, and voice. I find more and more people I know trying to structure more intimate human interactions into their routine lately. I like this. It seems healthy.
But I continue to get weird reactions when I offer that I’d like to structure more “downtime” into my routine. I define downtime as quiet, reflective time – spent mostly alone, mostly unplugged. For me this manifests as time writing, walking, drawing or playing the piano. It is time where the primary focus of my attention is driven by me, not by a device or another person. I like this. It seems healthy. But it seems to put off some people.
Not only do I find the constantly-”wired in” trend to be unhealthy, I actually find it to be counterproductive. The mind fatigues easily. Constant stimulation, constant attention – this stuff is taxing.
Consider this: I do some of my best thinking in the shower. Why is this?
I’ve read several explanations on this, ranging from speculation about hyper-oxygenation to standing in one place for a while. But the explanation I most buy into is this:
Showering is a routine. It is a routine we are intimately familiar with and one we do not need to think about. The fact that we don’t need to think about it is critically important. Our conscious mind – the one with which we evaluate and make decisions – is silenced by the routine. Because we don’t actively need to think, our subconscious mind is allowed to kick into gear and drive our thinking all over the place. We are truly creative in this time. I do my best thinking and creating during and immediately after periods of downtime.
Imagine if we built more time into our lives for this type of thinking.
Imagine if we “rehearsed” this behavior.
We’d have to start first by letting go of the need to be connected all the time. We’d also need for others to let go of the expectation that we be connected all the time. But we might find ourselves being a little more creative if we do. (And maybe we’ll start actually talking to each other more, too.)