5 digital-to-embodied swaps to consider

What do we outsource to digital ease, and what do we keep for ourself?

The first newsletter I wrote and really loved for The Connected Family was this one.¹ It drew out something I had long felt but hadn’t articulated, that the opacity and do-it-all nature of smartphones harms our ability to model what is good, right, and true for our children.

Consider today’s newsletter a bit of a part two. Because yes, allowing the smartphone to take over so many tasks hurts our kids and their future ability to navigate the world as they grow, but I believe it also hurts us grown-ups right now. Collapsing so many tasks into our phones deprives us of opportunities to partake in relational, effortful, embodied work in the real world. Instead, it can sometimes feel like we just press one magical button after another.

This “real world work” isn’t fancy — it is mostly just the stuff of everyday life, tasks that were completely commonplace (and unavoidable!) a decade or two ago. At the risk of going too far, to me, now, they seem almost precious. They are a chance to resist the unbearably fast pace of life. To grow in daily grit. To connect with others. To act out our family’s values. To tend to the fabric of the world around me.

(Maybe they are precious after all!)

Over the last many years of having kids, I have tried to choose carefully which tasks I outsource to digital ease and which I keep for myself. This often requires trading convenience for a less tangible reward — but it’s a reward nonetheless. After all, what are we hurrying to? How are we using this new surplus of time that our technology produces? Are we using it to rest, or play, or move our bodies — using it in a way that matters to us? Or are we frittering it away on our devices? Are we simply cramming in more, more, more?²

I want to offer five of my own digital-to-embodied swaps to you today. You may not choose to adopt them yourself, and that’s perfectly fine! If nothing else, I hope they provide an opportunity to consider your own digital-to-embodied balance, and illuminate areas where you might want to make a shift. (Or not, ha! I can’t wait to hear your practices in the comments!)

I keep a paper calendar.

Some of you may know that I work for a paper company, so I promise this is not just me schilling for my employer :) I have long loved a paper product, but I have also long shunned a digital calendar — namely because I find it hard to see the big picture with a digital system, to get a read on any one week or month at a glance. The topographic map of a two-page monthly spread, with clustered pockets of my handwriting here and white space there, helps me to see when I need to hold back and where we have room. This is so helpful for keeping the margin we value.

As our kids grow, the centrality of my paper calendar has taken on a new purpose — it banishes some of what Susan Dominus described as “operating furtively without trying to.” My planner lies open in our main room, and I’ve noticed June will consult it several times a week to see what’s ahead. Sometimes she’ll ask me questions. Since I jot down tasks and errands in addition to our family’s activities, I like to think it is teaching her something about what it takes to run a household and maintain family life. I also see her executive functioning skills grow as she keeps her own paper calendar, mimicking my behavior in miniature.

I read physical books and magazines.

It’s no surprise that I’m passionate about raising readers and fostering a culture of learning in our home. In addition to reading to our kids, the best way I know to do this is to model for them what it looks like to read books often and enjoy doing so — a.k.a., to visibly read books myself. If I’m reading a book on the Kindle app on my phone, that’s not going to have quite the same effect.³

Keeping physical books on our shelves, on our bedside tables, and in boxes and baskets around the house also underscores what we value without us saying a word. As James Clear says, “Given that we are more dependent on vision than on any other sense, it should come as no surprise that visual cues are the greatest catalyst of our behavior. For this reason, a small change in what you see can lead to a big shift in what you do.” More books readily-available on shelves = more books in hands!

Finally, reading physical books also forces a rhythm of regular library visits, which helps our kids to practice discernment and is the kind of unflashy, low-key excitement that we try to prioritize.

I grocery shop in person.

Y’all know I feel passionately about this one. Grocery shopping in person gets me out in my community — around all sorts of people that I might never otherwise be around. It makes me feel connected to where I live. It makes me more aware, and compassionate, and patient, and present. I feel satisfied when I walk through the door having completed a task that will help my family’s life run smoothly for the next week.⁴ It truly brings me joy.

And that’s just when I’m by myself! There’s so much more to love (and so many more opportunities to model behavior!) when I have a child accompanying me.

I know that it might seem easier or quicker to get a weekly grocery delivery. It might actually be easier or quicker. You might have your routine down pat, and it might truly be making way for something better in this season. But for myself, when I consider the cost of time spent on a device to place an order and then communicate with the shopper in store (and forgoing all the benefits I love!), I’ll happily hop in the car each week.

I cook at home.

Listen — we do not cook and eat at home seven nights a week. But we do cook and eat at home most nights a week, and as Justin Whitmel Early says, one of the most significant things about your household is what is considered normal. Not only does cooking at home bring with it some nutritional and financial benefits, but I believe it gives my kids a sense of security, it frees them up for independent play, and it teaches them patience and practical skills.

(I actually wrote out way more on this topic in an earlier draft but there was so much here that I’ve tabled it for a future newsletter! To be continued…)

I seek advice from my village.

Alright — ending with one where I haven’t quite landed the plane. Help me parse this out in the gaps in the comments!

The big idea is that I am trying to move away from asking advice of the anonymous internet and toward asking advice of people who have earned my trust over time — or at least shifting the balance of the two.

Instead of Googling for a service provider, I’m asking the cluster of parents waiting at school pick-up for recommendations. Instead of searching in a Facebook group, I’m texting the Articles Club group chat. Instead of stumbling down a Reddit thread, I’m calling my mom or my pediatrician.

Might the information I receive from throwing this more-narrow lasso be incomplete? Might I miss out on the absolute best possible answer that has ever existed?? It is possible — but I don’t believe my life will be worse off because of it. On the contrary, I think I will have gained something from allowing others to help me, and reminding them that I am willing and available to help them in return. I will come away with answers, yes, but also a more tightly-woven community.

Of course, there are also times when the internet and a wider net are really helpful! For me, as for most of these swaps, it’s not an and/or situation — it’s more a desire to think thoughtfully about which option I choose, and perhaps reaching for the embodied option more often than feels comfortable.

On this last one and all of these, I’d love to know where you land! Has digital ease made way for really good things in your life? Is there somewhere you’ve seen the value in choosing the analog or embodied option? Let’s hear it — I always love chatting with you.

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1. Published exactly one year ago!

2. This section reminded me of a book review I wrote a few years ago on John Mark Comer’s The Relentless Elimination of Hurry. From that piece: “[John Mark] argues that if we all had 10 more hours in a day, we’d just fill them up with more ‘good’ things, and then we would be ‘even more tired and burned out and emotionally frayed and spiritually at risk’ than we are now. This rings true for me — if we don’t exercise restraint around our allotted 24 hours, why would we with 34 hours?” If you want to follow this thread more, here’s the original post!

3. I do think reading an actual Kindle can have a similar effect, though! While it might not offer as many natural connection points (for example, your kids asking about what you’re reading based on a book’s cover), over time they would identify it as a specialized tool that is only for reading.

4. This might sound dumb, but this is a visible task that my children see me completing on their behalf. A lot of that effort, and their gratitude for it, gets erased, I think, when it’s completed digitally and by someone else. Do my children regularly thank me for this service? They do not — but I believe it’s making an impact.