The Summer of Dumb + Light(phone)
Reclaiming My Cosmic Creative Mind
Earth time moves slow.
My creative spirit and mind, on the other hand, is lightning quick, astrally inclined to make up imagined scenarios and outcomes, flitting out ahead of my body to go make worlds and envision them unfolding just-like-this.
By the time I am partway through a project, the friction of earthiness can begin to rub like sandpaper, casting a dusty dull coating on an idea that once felt shiny.
My heart has to get involved at this point, dust things off a bit, uncover the shiny bits again. My tender heart says, “Hey! Remember why you’re doing this? I know it looks nothing like you imagined and you thought you’d be done by now, but keep going, it matters.”
That is the energy I've been in lately. The energy of persistence. Of having so many big creative dreams on my plate, and needing to decide: how fucking serious am I about finishing this?
Which brings me to this crazy idea: can I go all summer without my smartphone?
This is about the nature of attention itself, about how reality is shaped and formed. Here on earth, attention moves in only one direction, you cannot be multiple places at once, like you can in the astral or cosmic realms. Angels, I hear, can be in multiple timelines at once, attending to the needs and desires of many. But you, babes? You can only be here now.
And if now is cluttered with digital pollution and distractions, cultish propaganda, rabbit-holes and dopamine loops, then being here now and creating your work becomes a lot to ask of one little earth side brain. There has to be a reckoning, a reclamation, a point at which I decide: what is most important to me?
This summer, I'm pursuing serious creative goals: music-making, finishing audio engineering school, and launching my digital storytelling brand1. More and more I feel that my phone is taking these things away from me. It's not a tool bringing me in closer to these creative opportunities as promised, it is sucking time and my attention.
I can't get more efficient with time blocking my schedule or being more disciplined— not when I have a massive energy leak going on every single day.
And to be clear: it's not like I'm some technology purist, if you noticed, all of my goals are technology related — the audio mastering program: computers. Making music: computers. Digital storytelling: computers.
But with the limited earth time I got, I need to direct my attention meaningfully, not haphazardly and certainly not at the end of a corporation's whim. Which is what my phone has become. It’s a portal, for sure, just not the kind I want to keep open.
The Digital Escape Hatch
Here's a scene from my digital life that might feel familiar:
After a long day, my kids are dealing with big feelings. One is trying to help mama pack her lunch (yay! that's a big moment!) while the other is impinging upon her space, pushing her into the corner of the counter ever so subtly by slowly stepping closer and closer, leaning in.
"Stop, give me space!"
"I am."
"No, you're not!"
"Yes, I am."
"I just want to make my lunch!"
I'm feeling myself getting overwhelmed as their voices and emotions get louder and more intense, I should really do something but to be honest, I don't really know what to do. (Who put me in charge anyhow?) Instead of sitting with that discomfort, or trying anything helpful, I pick up my phone.
To do what?
Fuck if I know!
And that's the moment. That unconscious reach. I don't even know what I'm looking at, it just gives me a momentary reprieve. That escape hatch from the present moment that I don't want to be in.
In that split second between feeling uncomfortable and grabbing my phone, there's a whole universe of potential growth and connection that I'm bypassing. Not just for me, but for my children too.
I've been noticing this pattern everywhere in my life. The moment of creative friction while writing? Phone. The quiet of washing a few dishes? Phone. The five minutes waiting for water to boil? Phone. A flash of anxiety about money? Phone. The sacred space before sleep? You guessed it.
This isn't just distraction—it's dissociation. It's my nervous system saying "reality is too much right now" and my fingers automatically reaching for the digital pacifier I've come to depend on.
And the kids have our number, y'all. Mine have said to me, "I hate phones. Grown ups are always looking at them." And we are a pretty low-screen house-hold, but they still notice that we are often more attuned to our screens than we are to them.
Look at this pattern of addiction, which everyone has to some degree or another, the pattern of:
This is uncomfortable, let me do something behaviorally to mitigate this discomfort so that I don’t have to feel it.
We all have our work-arounds, ways we bypass the feeling and go to a behavior instead. Some of them seem harmless, others are absolutely lethal. But they all run on this basic pattern, an underlying belief that painful feelings are somehow intolerable.
Which just isn’t true. Feelings can be our superpowers, especially in our art-making, if we are able to be with them, without judgement and let them come through without resistance, like a wave coming in and then naturally making it’s way back out. Packed with information and wisdom.
The fear is that feeling them will annihilate us. Take us into an unending abyss of pain that goes on forever. But that’s just an illusion. Because all things change, this too shall pass if you’re brave enough to just be with it.
And as Eddie Vedder would sing, I’m still alive2.
The Spotify Thread That Unraveled Everything
My recent deep dive into intentional listening practices for the Spotify article3 that
and I collaborated on opened another portal I couldn't close. Once I noticed how I was consuming music—with this attitude I had around the inevitability of Spotify—I couldn't un-see how I was consuming my phone in much the same way.
It's not inevitable. It's a choice.
In response to that article,
4captured something I hadn't fully articulated:
"There is no hunger where there's constant satiation. And it's the hunger that not only drives our art, but also our connection to the art of others.
Why is quitting an app so hard? Because it's not actually about the app, or the quitting. It's about prioritizing, and for most of us, reprioritizing, that truly inexplicable feeling of soulful assimilation with something created—with artistry and some level of mastery, even genius—by another human."
That's it exactly. The constant satiation of my attention leaves no space for me to get fully present in my own reality—and without that presence, where does the drive to create come from? To be receptive to the next song trying to come through? To be an attuned mother?
What struck me most was how the very technology promising to enhance my life was restructuring my mind. But dude, I want my mind back, I want my earth time back.
And, just like the approach I took to leaving Spotify, I want to make it about fun, play, finding joy in the experiment. This isn’t about putting brutal unkindness or blame in my path, it’s about subverting the reality with amusement and games.
Flashback to 2020: The First Lightphone Flirtation
What's wild is that I've been here before. In 2020, deep in pandemic overwhelm— a potty training toddler, a newborn baby breastfeeding, and a business in the lurch, I bought a Lightphone5—that minimalist device promising digital freedom.
The daily terror of the world coming through on my feed was one thing, but the constant checking out and disassociating during the "happiest" days of having a new baby was breaking my heart.
I played with it for a few days, then promptly chickened out and went back to my smartphone. I told myself I needed it for business, mostly. And for photos, I mean, you can't expect a new mom to lug a phone and a camera. And my music. And Instagram. I needed Instagram for my business…
The Lightphone sat in a drawer while I went back to my digital immersion, albeit with new guardrails. I read books like How to Break Up with Your Phone6 and implemented their recommended tools—app time limits, grayscale display, notification blocks, charging my phone in the living room instead of by my bed. Classic half-measures that did something for a short time, but the addiction always crept back in.
I never fully committed to the Lightphone because, let's be honest, I was scared. Scared of missing out, scared of being unreachable, scared of being alone with my thoughts. Scared of facing the void that appears when you stop stuffing every quiet moment with content. Dude: I eat every meal with a video.
And scared of being inconvenient to other people. Like, if people can't send me a photo via text anymore, will we still be friends?
Remembering The Unbroken Beforetime World
Recently I stumbled upon this incredibly funny and heartwarming video7 of a twenty-something creator who locked his smartphone in a safe for a month. What struck me wasn't just his improved attention span, but his revelation about watching Sex and the City. He noticed how the characters seemed more adult than he felt, despite being similar in age.
"They call each other for plans. They don't use a GPS. They agree on a time to meet somewhere, and then they just like hope that it all works out," he marveled. "I have never in my life made adult plans without the convenience of a smartphone."
I found this quite endearing and a little sad. Young people never got to experience the world before smartphones. I was a holdout among my friends—last to get a cell phone at 21. Before that? Landline. Or call me at my best friend's house and maybe you'd catch me there. I didn't get a smartphone until 2011 when I was 29. I had a long, full life before smartphones.
And you know what? The world worked just fine before smartphones. It wasn't really broken.
These tech companies have identified (or created) problems to solve with their products. I'm not convinced life is better. If you look at the data, (which aren’t they the ones so obsessed with data?!8) it's pretty irrefutable that the earth, our minds, our relationships, and our bodies are not doing so hot with all this tech. Not to mention our democracies.
When Doomscrolling Cosplays as Activism
Here's another revelation that hit me hard: knowing about all the shitty shit happening in the world is not the same as doing something about it.
My nervous system is perpetually screaming "EMERGENCY!" thanks to the endless feed of "OH NO, LOOK WHAT THE TYRANT DID TODAY" content I consume. But this state of constant alarm doesn't translate to meaningful action. Instead, it translates to paralysis.
Being nervous system overwhelmed on the daily is not activism. It is not resistance. It's just being overwhelmed.
Which is where they want you to be: on standby status.
This weekend I ran into friends who are in a local anti-fascist group, and it reminded me that if I'm not on my phone, I can go be with them actually doing something. Or creating my anti-fascist art (all my art is anti-fascist in it’s essence because it’s about collective and individual liberation). Or being a more present mother, or gardening and sharing my harvest with my neighbors, or brushing up on my Spanish so that I can be useful if ICE ever comes to my neighbor's house or children's school.
Do not be a bystander. That’s a nervous system freeze response. Be in motion, doing something.
The Summer of Dumb Parameters
Last weekend I pulled that sleek little Lightphone II out of the back of my tea drawer and I looked it up on their website, wondering if it would still even work 5 years later. To my utter shock and delight, even though they are releasing a newer Lightphone III, they have not planned obsolescence into the II and will continue to update the software ongoing.
Whaaaat???
That's unheard of when competitors are building their entire strategy around global resource extraction and getting us obsessed with the newest, latest, greatest.
There have been some updates in features to the software on the Lightphone II since I first tried it in 2020, including addition of syncing with most major calendar apps, maps/directions, music, podcasts, and notes. Still no email, internet, photos or video, which is what makes it light.
This time I come with a summer-long commitment and a cosmic question:
What version of me exists on the other side of constant connectivity? What art, what parenting, what life becomes possible when I'm not perpetually fragmented?
Here are the parameters:
1. All In: The Full Commitment
I am moving my phone number and service completely over to Lightphone9. I was with Verizon and frankly pretty unsatisfied for a bunch of boring reasons, so when I say I'm switching, I mean my skin is in the game here. It'll be a heavy lift to switch back off this phone if I decide it's too inconvenient—which may help me get through the periods that are a little painful. Sort of the equivalent of locking my iPhone in a safe.
I am also going to sell my old iPhone 14 — I never liked it anyway. If I decide to go back to a smartphone, this one ain’t it. This also means I can’t cheat and use my old phone as a wifi enabled screen, which I am pretty sure I would do if I left it in the house because: addiction.
2. The Mega-Tech Mass Breakup
Now that I'm thinking of it, this whole project allows me to break up with so many mega tech corporations at once: Apple, Verizon, Spotify, Meta... it's pretty amazing10.
Bye, bitches!
3. Friends & Family Alert
I'm letting my friends and family know. I can't send or receive images, links, emails etc. from my phone anymore, so if people want to send me that kind of stuff—send it to my email! I'll still be alive on the internet, I'll just will be accessing from a desktop.
4. Plan for the Discomfort and Downtime
I'm not naive about what I'm getting myself into. Those moments where I'd normally reach for my phone will still happen, and the discomfort will be real. So I'm strategically placing alternatives around my life:
Books placed in key pickup spots around my house, one by the couch and one at my kitchen island where I eat
Resubscribing to The Sun Magazine11, which has great bite-sized things to read with no ads (fun fact: I've been a reader since I was about 12 years old)
Dance breaks. Just spontaneous movement when I feel the itch
Stretch. Breathe. Go outside in my garden and pull a weed or two
Play the piano or guitar for 5 minutes
Have music on in the house more often via my record player
Draw or paint with my kids for a few minutes
The goal isn't to frantically fill every moment, but to have gentle alternatives that feel nourishing rather than numbing.
5. The MP3 Throwback
Now this is where I'm creating a fun assignment within an assignment. This summer I am going to create playlists that are all about understanding my musical influences, past and present so that I can begin weaving my own sonic textures—laying the groundwork for my own album.
Understanding my sound means defining what captures my attention and why, from the past and present. And then seeing if I can blend these into my own unique prism.
This is an assignment I’ve wanted to do for a long time, but streaming made it hard because all options were options. If I have to pay for each track and only have so much space, I will have a built in constraint that will filter my choices more precisely, no big bowl of endless Doritos on the table. Then I carry it with me in my car, on walks, to the gym, just as I would normally but without that tempting second screen world waiting to suck me in.
6. Photo Adventures
The Lightphone doesn't have a camera, so I'm thinking about getting a cheap film camera and experimenting with shooting film this summer. I have thousands of digital photos of my kids—all trapped on the cloud, simultaneously everywhere and nowhere. When will I actually look at them, print them, organize them? Probably never.
So I'm going back to the way I captured moments in my youth: on film, with intention, limited to 24 or 36 exposures per roll. No instant delete. No endless scrolling through similar shots to find "the perfect one." Just the quiet click of the shutter, the mechanical advance of the film, and the delicious anticipation of waiting to see what I've captured.
Then I'll print them—physical objects I can hold—and compile them into albums my family can touch, pass around, and connect with. Tangible evidence of our summer together, not just more digital ghosts haunting my storage plan.
6. Documentation Without Filters
I'll report in weekly in my notes, with insights on how it's going. I am committed to doing this until September 1st—a full summer of changing the nature of my attention and reclaiming my time.
The Little Door Universe: What's Actually Possible
There's a version of me that exists on the other side of this experiment—a version with more clarity, more focus, more presence, more joy. A version whose creative energy isn't constantly leaking out through a thousand digital distractions.
I want to meet her.
What's striking me more powerfully lately is how my sense of time has warped. The days feel both infinitely long and impossibly short. I check email, look up, and somehow three hours have vanished. I pull out my phone to check one quick thing, and suddenly I'm deep in a toxic vortex of content I didn't even choose to see, my nervous system on fire.
Meanwhile, all those creative impulses are knocking, knocking, knocking on the door of my consciousness, begging for time and attention I've already spent elsewhere.
I just can't do it all when I’m, as my sweetheart calls it: jacking around on my phone.
Your Invitation (Not a Challenge, Because We Don't Need More Internet Challenges)
I'm not sharing this as some holier-than-thou digital detox challenge. God knows we don't need more internet challenges. I'm sharing it because I suspect I'm not alone in feeling my creative mind being pulled apart by the centrifugal forces of constant connection.
Maybe you don't need to go full Lightphone to find your own portal to a more expansive universe. Maybe you need a ritual of phone-free mornings, or a weekend digital sabbath. Maybe you're craving a separate camera to capture moments more intentionally, or a notebook for thoughts instead of the Notes app.
Perhaps there's one specific app causing you the most grief — the one that wears a groove in your brain and always leaves you feeling worse after using it. You know the one.
The question isn't "how can I use less technology?"
The question is "what version of my life becomes possible when my attention is truly my own?"
If some part of this resonates, I invite you to join me in some form of digital rebalancing this summer. Not to abandon the modern world entirely, but to reclaim what's being stolen from us minute by minute, scroll by scroll.
Transmission From the Analog-ish Side
I promise to report back with unfiltered truths from this journey. I might be blissfully writing songs in my garden by July, or I might be having a meltdown at my kid's doctor because I can't access their health chart.
Either way, I'll tell you the truth. Because this isn't about perfection—it's about reclamation. It's about carving out space for the creative universe that's trying to catch up here on earth time.
The summer of dumb and light(phone) begins now.
I’ll be seeing you through the portal 🌀
Fun in the Footnotes!
To provide you with distraction free reading, I put all links and my many thought-tangents here in the footnotes for you explore. I am an affiliate of Bookshop.org where we help raise money for local bookshops because Bezos has quite enough, thank you very much.
Eddie Vedder talks about The Curse, the alchemical transmutation of pain through creating music that the audience reinterprets, changing the meaning and healing the singer. Every time I see this clip, I cry.
Ghosting Spotify: A How-To Guide
KATE ELLEN AND SETH WERKHEISER
·
APR 20
Spotify, much like social media, has become one of those corporate structures so deeply embedded in our daily lives that it’s hard to imagine a world without it. It’s the soundtrack to your morning commute, the background noise to your workday, and the curated vibe for your weekend hangouts.
4 days ago · 8 likes · 6 comments · Bree Stilwell
https://www.thelightphone.com/
How to Break Up with Your Phone by Catherine Price
Video by Eddie Burback on giving up his smartphone for a month. Funny. 45 minutes of insight from the younger generation.
Powerful Ted Talk by Carole Cadwalladr, “This Is What a Digital Coup Looks Like” — she was the woman who helped break the story of Cambridge Analytica, she recently returned to the stage to give an update after years of defending herself against a legal takedown.
Lightphone does offer lots of options, including being able to swap your sim card back and forth, so some people "go light" on the weekends and works with lots of different carriers.
That is unless, of course, you have certain iPhones which they have started hardwiring the sim cards into the phone which, coolcoolcool, just like them to make things more difficult and less versatile. Also, I am not an affiliate of Lightphone.
A thoughtful and creative video by Struthless that crystallized what many of us are feeling. His thesis? The veil has dropped. We're no longer under the illusion that we're "users" of the internet—we've finally recognized that we are the thing being used. He charts a massive cultural vibe shift happening right now: people waking up to their digital exploitation and seeking refuge in analog technologies. It's not nostalgia driving the revival of film cameras, vinyl records, and dumb phones—it's a collective reclaiming of agency. The pendulum is swinging back.
The Sun Magazine. This is one of the very best things on earth. Just sayin.
