from The Drama of Being a Child (Alice Miller)

//@solle
//London

“Doctor, doctor I need a break from The Internets” is often a chant that rings around my head. On some days I’m overwhelmed and struggle to concentrate on the important things. My mind a grid of content, links, pictures, feeds all churning on and on, never stopping. There is only impatience and crushed concentration (and often pitiful constructive output). I feel an intense need to brush all the screens aside and get my day in order. To relearn how to concentrate and to (really) get things done.

When online we are impatient searchers (obsessive, clicking, hopping, lurking) often going nowhere fast, but when offline we are more inclined towards waiting, letting things happen, letting connections be made. Offline we are more patient, and maybe more constructive. “Are meaningful connections easier to recognize when the fog of the Internet is lifted?” (2,3)

The case for the internet rewiring our brains has already been made by Nicolas Carr (4) and is well documented, supported and challenged – “Whether or not the internet has made a difference to how we use our brains, it has certainly begun to make a difference to how we think about our brains” Ed Bullmore. “Sometimes I think my ability to concentrate is being nibbled away by the internet; other times I think it’s being gulped down in huge, Jaws-shaped chunks” Geoff Dyer. Also Steven Pinker’s well-documented scepticism: “New forms of media have always caused moral panics… but such panics often fail basic reality checks. If electronic media were hazardous to intelligence, the quality of science would be plummeting”. (5)

He may be right. But many people are exhausted. There are recent descriptions by James Sturn (2) and Juan Rodriguez (6) of taking breaks or cutting back on the internet. They describe how they have reclaimed parts of their lives and have rediscovered the joy of reading books and talking to people that they had felt they had forgotten and undervalued. There is also Rebecca Traister’s battle with being ‘reachable’ at any time: “To not be reachable if called upon at any time, except perhaps the dead of night, feels sinful; unavailability betrays disconnectedness, and disconnectedness has come to stand for idleness and indolence.” (7)

Absence (or abstinence) benefits almost every other part of human life (relationships and diet), but how would it help us with tackling our “online addictions”? (1). First you need to recognise that you can benefit from a break. It is not for everyone (many people co-exist with most things in life with no ill effects, disability, or loss of productivity – in fact some are propelled by it), but many are less fortunate. This connectedness keeps them from sleeping, concentrating, working and actually living. (7)

There are huge long-term benefits in educating people to consider these problems and find solutions that suit them (though please avoid reactive behaviour – this needs to be planned to work).

To start patterns can help: One day off, one day on. No internet at home. No computer at home. No use of internet or computer at home at weekend. Only use wifi in the local coffee shop. There are multiple ways to make it work. You just need to chose the method that works for you. The most important thing is to build up a variation of interests. Over time, if you are not careful, the internet can suck you dry of ‘other’ interests. Cast your net wide. Revisit things you did before screens were so omnipresent (or things you now do online/using a screen that you used to do without a screen). Screen-based interests are ultimately not going to work (too much temptation). Interests that feed a screen (but are produced without a screen) can be fine. Remember – you need to be looking at the world around you through viewfinders, not LCDs. Rather than always be looking for inspiration from those around you online, connected to you, book out time to refuel on external inspiration – fill up the tank.

Taking a break from the internet by choice helps to clear the mind and rediscover the ability to “recognise meaningful connections”. (2) But it’s not always as straightforward as just switching off and going to sit in the other room. You need a plan. A method. A structure. And it’s not just taking a holiday and having a break whilst camping in Northern France. This is about taking a break in your day-to-day existence. In your work life. To get started should we break it out into manageable chunks?

1 day – Start
3 days – Challenge
5 Days – Work Week
7 Days – Full Week
31 Days – Month.

But how do I get started?

Many of us have jobs where we need to be online most of the time which makes taking a full break nigh on impossible without leaving/changing your job. Try taking breaks at weekends, trial removing the internet or even computers from your home. Or just begin by trying to write out that next blog post in longhand. (Though it may be more a case of ‘Can you continue to carry out your job effectively and still be plugged into the internets the way you are at present?’)

There are questions to address, like – why? And what do you expect to achieve, want to achieve, hope to achieve, need to achieve? Especially if it is going to impact your work in one way or another you have to plan it. Don’t just hit shut down and walk away. Plan it. What period of time will make a difference? It is important to decide on a period of time in one block and keep to it. Think of all the consequences. Make sure someone knows you are doing it as it will effect your ability to do many things the way people expect you to do things. How will it effect my ability to work? Will it in fact improve my work, the ability to focus, solve problems, interpret, communicate, feel more secure and genuinely confident. Not to mention improved concentration, productivity, patience, reading, temperament to name but a few.

But how do I really get started?

Like starting out on the road to being a writer so well described by Anne Lamott in Bird by Bird you have to carve out the space for it to happen. You have to train yourself. You have to ignore the voices that whisper what you are missing. You have to persist and believe that it is worthwhile. You have to want to really do it and believe it’s going to improve your life – and, remember, you can go back. It is more than likely that once you’ve started it will get easier. It just depends on what you’ve set yourself.

As Anne says ” You might as well go ahead and get started”, because one day the choice may not be so straightforward.

1 Paul Graham, The acceleration of addictiveness
2 James Sturn, I’m quitting the internet. Will I be liberated or left behind?
3 Liz Danzico, Bobulate 24 June 2010
4 John Naughton, The internet: is it changing the way we think?
5 Steven Pinker, Mind of mass media
6 Juan Rodriguez, Off-Line, I Reconnected
7 Rebecca Traister, No more vacation: How technology is stealing our lives

At present, the pamphlet is not online so I have reproduced a version of them below:

Roland and the pencil

Roland, an 8 year old boy with autistic spectrum disorder is sitting at a table in the classroom with 5 other children. All of them are given a piece of paper and pencil and are asked to draw a picture of themselves playing their favourite game. All children proceed to draw elaborate pictures except for Roland who is more interested in the sound made by tapping the tip of his pencil on his paper and creating a series of dots.

An observer might argue that Roland’s behaviour could be due either to the fact that he was unable to understand the required task or that he was unable to reproduce a picture of a previous event or that he had fine motor difficulties that prevented him from drawing a picture. However, none of them apply to his incessant need to tap his pencil rather than draw a picture. Roland had a compromised sensory system which meant he would easily perseverate on sounds, enjoy repetitive actions, and was drawn to visual images that repeated themselves. The pull of his sensory preferences prevented him from engaging in the task at hand.

According to Piaget’s theory of play, Roland was engaged in a form of object play. However, the teacher quickly realised that since this was a very elementary form of play, and seeing that the tapping pencil began to distract the other children, she seized the opportunity to move Roland to a more sophisticated level of play that involved his peers.

The teacher asked all the other children to stop their drawings and to imitate Roland’s pencil tapping. Roland began to smile at the other children, produced sustained eye contact and also began laughing. He became very excited by their actions and imitation and began to address them with various tapping patterns to follow. He began calling them by name and would ask them to speed up and slow down. They drew shapes, faces, making them happy, mad and sad. The perseverative nature of the pencil tapping became a social form of game playing that included interaction, imitation, communication and reciprocity that was possible with the creative direction of the teacher.

Richard and the rollerblades

Richard, an 11 year old in a large suburban school diagnosed with autistic spectrum disorder, whenever he walked around the tight aisles between the desks in his classroom would involuntarily bump into the other children, sometimes hitting or kicking them.

The initial reaction of the teacher was to ignore this behaviour, to punish it, label it as attention seeking, and curtail it. Richard became used to this cause-effect nature of his behaviour.

In time the conclusion was that Richard had poor body awareness, limited spatial awareness and was frustrated with the structural confines of the classroom. He was also experiencing sensory overload. With outside input it was decided to overhaul the layout of the classroom. Rather than remain in rows, desks were placed together to form pods creating more space. Furthermore, to assist Richard with body awareness and contact him with his surroundings, it was decided that he be placed on rollerblades. In time, Richard’s aggressive behaviour reduced considerably and on the occasion when he did try to lash out he would lose his balance and end up asking for help.

As weeks passed, Richard joined cooperative games and began to recognise the value of friendship and began building relationships with the other children. Then the introduction of a selection of the other children on rollerblades allowed Richard to observe a leadership role and help others.

In time, Richard became a functioning member of the classroom without rollerblades able to work on academic tasks both alone and in groups.

Pencil picture by Visualpanic
Rollerskate picture by Pascal \o/’s