In “The
Artist’s Way at Work” Julia Cameron suggests ‘few techniques function as a
stronger jump start to original thinking than a week of media deprivation...our
cultural addiction to the media has become deeply embedded, pervasive, and very
hard to escape.’
Recently this
young woman about town (as apple addicted as the next) said yes to the calling
to go on a self-imposed media detox for one week. The terms and blurting protestations were as
follows:
- NO READING. Yes, that includes worthy endeavours such as novels, autobiographies, & self-development. (Damn! I just had a new-book-buying-binge.)
- No newspapers or magazines, trashy or highbrow; even dart your eyes from commercials on the tube escalator; no peering over someone’s shoulder to read their Metro. (I can handle that though I shall miss the horoscopes in the supplements, ahem.)
- No social media. (Risk being out of the ‘loop’. Ah heck, my relationship with it is conflicted anyway.)
- No movies. (But movies are pleasurable and harmless, right?)
- No TV. (But you’re an actor, that’s blasphemous and absurd.)
- No email. (Say what? But I couldn’t possibly…insert extremely valid reason here.)
- No surfing the web. (But I HAVE to book my holiday flights and I don’t have a P.A. to pass the buck to.)
- No talk radio, no music with lyrics! (Now we’re just getting puritan.)
I am feeling
liberated and empowered as if I am on holiday and I wonder is this the real
reason I love going on holiday? When I
was in Mallorca earlier this year the info overload in my inbox and career
concerns were blissfully irrelevant when breaking a croissant in the village.
It was quite satisfying
to announce to my Facebook community and regular email chains that I am “out of
the office”. Relieved, I am not
available for any agendas and demands other than my own. A downside seems I have to be present on the
bus.
First hurdle:
I meet my friend for coffee to chat dreams of Bali and she has written a
wonderful two-week itinerary for me.
Ah. How do I engage gratefully
with her and avert my eyes for fear of the Word Devil? OK, OK, I looked at it. I could have confessed to my current
challenge but chose to smile sweetly.
Day Two:
I’ve spotted
The 50 Shades of Grey Classical Soundtrack on Spotify. Strictly instrumental and in foreign
languages that for once I am glad I don’t understand, it is connecting me to a
touch of the epic whilst I work. I am
overcome with the drive to write and organise and I like it.
Sometimes
writing feels flowing or like I am jamming with a jazz band and sometimes it
feels excruciatingly muscular like how I imagine childbirth to be. Whatever the nature of this particular surge
it just must be done. I am starting to
see how much material I consume produced by other interesting people and the
balance needs to be redressed. It’s time
for me to produce into this vacuum. Out
of the numerous procrastination shaving strategies, I might have just struck
gold.
Day Three:
What’s going
on? I haven’t woken up on the wrong side
of the bed or given up caffeine so why do I feel like a raging bull? This is so unfair I was enjoying the pink
cloud but now I just want to go on iPlayer!
Just 3 minutes of instant gratification please Mr. Commitment Policeman…
I invoke
Goethe (whether he did in fact write this or not according to the academics): "Until
one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back-- Concerning all
acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth that ignorance
of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one
definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things
occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of
events issues from the decision, raising in one's favor all manner of
unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could
have dreamed would have come his way. Whatever you can do, or dream you can do,
begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Begin it now."
Day Four:
News of a
death of a loved one in the evening sends me thinking I deserve a little late
night internet-love. It’s not as creepy
as it sounds. This unpredictable turn of
events shows me just how zoning out through media is an established coping
mechanism. Timely. I crumble in bed about 11pm and watch an
“it’s so bad it’s so good” reality TV show set in a certain South West London
borough. As if that’s going to assuage
the sadness or bring the person back?
Hey, we all have our vices, right?
Anyway, when did this become a moral issue as well as a health and
creativity issue? I’m cutting myself
some slack.
Day Five:
Day five already? I still haven’t touched movies, books,
newspapers, and social media but now I’ve broken the camel’s back once…you know
how it is; I start to negotiate terms.
Apparently this could be a reflection on my relationship with
authority.
The Oprah
Winfrey Network TV hosting leading spiritual thought conversations and documenting
healing breakthroughs in Chicago now doesn’t count. Or even if it’s a lapse in the mission, it’s
my dirty secret. Eckhart Tolle proceeded
to expound the merits of being “in the moment”.
It was an ironic waste of my time since I was putting down media
infiltration precisely to be more available to creative inspiration “in the
moment”. I must voice my moments not
consume someone else’s or I will never be on Oprah!
Day Six:
My nervous
system is recalibrating and thanking me for the breathing space. I am convinced that this is an excellent cost
effective form of “stress-management”; one of the key mindset skills of a top
stock-market trader according to Alistair Crooks, author of ‘The Madness of Money’. I may not be a top trader but I want to be a ‘top
performer’ in my life not burying myself in books about other people’s lives.
Day Seven:
It’s funny how
depriving myself of media input has made me streamline my time into really
useful and fun avenues like a trip to the osteopath or seeing Franko B’s
Performance Art festival ‘Untouchable’ in deepest darkest Camberwell; or
‘hanging out’ with treasured friends as in ye olden days at university when
social experience was valued higher than reading or getting ahead.
Today:
I have been
instant-chat-happy on F-book complete with flirty emoticons and I am wondering
if it’s affecting my ability to write complete sentences. Much is the woe of the current English
language evolution.
What was the
cost of this deprivation? I nearly
missed out on a surprise birthday party via F-book but was alerted just in
time. The only ‘loss’ has been
beneficial: I have unsubscribed from multiple cheap flight mailing lists and
other such colourful and unnecessary sells on how to live and consequently
re-claimed the valuable headspace and confidence that I can do just fine
without them.
When I
suggested the 7 Day Media Detox to a friend she responded with ‘I would
love to but I just can't do it unfortunately! As I just have to be online.’
Consider
yourself well and truly dared.
STOP READING NOW!
Emma Laird Craig is a British actress, freelance writer, and Co-Founder of The LabRats Theatre, a New York City based company of multi-dispilinary artists developing new work for theatre and film. Their third theatrical season is fast approaching in February 2013 with "The Rise and Fall of a Teenaged CyberQueen" by Lindsay Joy; the story of a flawed American family uprooted and unhinged by the rapid pace of online chat rooms and video feeds.
Emma trained at Central School of Speech & Drama and the Moscow Arts Theatre after reading English Literature at the University of Edinburgh. In London she is developing "The Venus Show" for TV drawing on the trials and tribulations of professional young women brought up on Jane Austen, brit-pop, and dreams. You can follow her on Twitter @MissLeFlay.
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