iPhone Excess

I want to live simply. I don’t like the idea of being bound by many things, save for the bonds of family and the ties of friendships that are dear to me.

I really, really hate feeling bound to technology.

My desire to live simply was born in part out of my frustration with personal computing. I've been using Apple devices my whole computing life, and for awhile I felt like I needed them to survive in the 21st century. That’s a problem, right?

For a long while, I was a writer and creator in the guitar gear world, blogging about my life as a professional musician and about guitar gear. I wrote about that time in a blog post called “I built a brand.” It was the weirdest season of life ever.

I would not have been able to create content for social media or build my presence without the iPhone. But one day I woke up realizing that, in my daily—no, hourly—use of the iPhone, I had consented to something so brazenly invasive—so intrusive—and something that I never saw coming.

I wasn’t speaking to people at the dinner table. I was lonelier than ever, gawkily bungling about with my nose pressed to a screen keeping careful watch over an entire world that didn’t really exist. I cared more about what complete strangers thought of me than my closest friends, so I debased myself regularly “for the ‘gram.”

Dings, pings, rings, chirps, buzzes, and vibrations took over my life and arrested my attention.

The lines between IRL and my @ were further blurred I got a dedicated work phone and work computer, causing further frustration with constant connectivity. Emails, texts, calls from clients, calls from solicitors—I felt the need to answer each the moment they arrived.

All day long, the chirping to-do list would beckon and my device would rule me. I woke up to that first notification and before I knew it my whole day was over. Suddenly, I’d neglected rest, neglected family, neglected genuine conversation, and neglected my health.

Perhaps worst of all, I neglected real obligations in favor of the silly little things I can “knock out” on-screen. Every time I choose clearing emails over wiping up the kitchen I substituted fake productivity for the real work needing my attention. It wasn’t long before I reached a breaking point.

The desire to disconnect led me to rethink other things I had subconsciously consented to: Debt in pursuit of “the American dream,” some of my closely-held religious beliefs that were totally unbiblical and un-Christlike, some of the societal and familial norms to which I unthinkingly adhered...

For three months last year and for six months this year, I did a Digital Detox. It was hard. I logged out of all social media, turned on Do Not Disturb for all callers who aren’t in my Friends & Family contact group, removed all casual browsing apps, and deleted all apps I’ve not used in the last 90 days.

This was a wonderful break from my phone. I found that during this time my attention span seemed to increase. Weirdly, I was actually less bored, as I was finding unique new ways to entertain myself when waiting around for something. And I was able to read and retain so much more without my phone distracting me.

I also tried quitting the phone cold turkey. I bought a 'dumb phone'—called a LightPhone. With Light, I had a phone in the event of an emergency and I was no longer tempted by my iPhone.

There were only two problems: I missed text messaging for quick missives (“omw. be there in 10”) and I found I desperately needed Google Maps, Uber, my bank app, and a weather app when traveling.

At that point I revised my Digital Detox and created a new plan. Nothing on my iPhone but a camera, flashlight, alarm clock, weather, maps, money, and Uber. I used parental controls to remove the Safari browser. I even went as far as to install a profile that would stop my iPhone from checking for updates, just to end feature-fatigue.

Digital minimalism doesn’t have to be difficult. Delete every app you can from your phone and treat it first and foremost as a phone. Learn to see it as a tool.

Turn off all notifications and answer people at your own leisure—there are so few true emergencies. The fact is, most emergencies aren’t. Put your phone out of reach before bed and get a great night’s rest. Put your phone away at the dinner table.

As for my computer, once again, I have been learning to view it as a tool. I dedicate time to emails and entertainment—no Gmail, YouTube, Netflix, podcasts, or Spotify except at a designated time each day.

I’ve uninstalled everything but an app I use for writing in markdown (iA Writer), an app for reading blog posts by my favorite writers (Reeder), and an app I use to edit photos (Lightroom). Critically important files are backed up to my three hard drives, while my computer’s internal hard drive remains empty. I don’t use cloud services.

With regard to hardware, I took a little advice from Joshua Becker. He draws a contrast between ‘technical obsolescence’ and ‘functional obsolescence.’ Technically, both of my personal devices are obsolete. Today, there are faster, more capable devices than what I’ve got. But functionally, my computer and phone are still going strong.

By now maybe you’re wondering what the point of all of this is. I’m writing today because Apple just announced their new watches and phones. You don’t need them.

I can see some utility in the new watch for health reasons. It has a built in echocardiogram, it can detect AFib, and it has a gyroscope that senses if you’ve fallen. If you take a hard fall and you’re immobile for 60 secs it calls your emergency contact.

It tracks sleep cycles and calories and steps as before, but now it also works with continuous glucose monitors for diabetics (I’m always curious about my glucose—nearly everyone in my family has diabetes), and it can send a detailed health report to your doctor before a check-up.

But the new phone? I think it’s kinda funny that they called it the iPhone XS. The iPhone Excess.

With a new, even bigger screen, it’s more of everything you’re enslaved to. More Netflix, more sleeplessness, more comparing your life to the profile feeds of others, more hits of more dopamine every time you see those little hearts on your photos.

More Snapchat streaks to redefine our friendships, more picture-perfect Instagram posts to eat away at our self-image, more of everything about Facebook that fragments us as a society, more Youtube with their aggressive algorithms designed to haunt and taunt us with that next suggested video.

My complaint isn’t just with the bigger screen, of course. Now that they have you hooked, they’ve raised the introductory price to $749 US. Meaning more people will go into more debt to try to afford the thing.

And I hate the notion of planned obsolescence, that these things are truly only built to last you until next year’s model comes out, while key features are withheld to store up a little consumer interest for the next release.

You know that companies like Apple and Google enable tech addiction by insisting that we buy the latest and greatest each year. The upgrade propaganda is going to be all you see now that the holidays are fast approaching. After all, all those beautifully tempting apps you adore would look so much better on a bigger screen, right?!

I recently reread George Orwell’s 1984. It’s as poignant and powerful as ever. Heed Orwell’s words: "Until they become conscious they will never rebel, and until after they have rebelled they cannot become conscious." The screen—if we let it—can absolutely rule our lives.

Further reading: "On Digital Minimalism" by Cal Newport; "Device Advice," by Joshua Becker; "Letting Go of Distractions" by Leo Babauta; "Five Steps to Tackle Digital Clutter" by Brittany Bruce; "How I Simplified My Phone" by Rob Rhinehart.

Try my Digital Detox.