Notes On a Digital Sabbatical

Notes on a Digital Sabbatical

I’m taking a one-week digital sabbatical starting this weekend, and if this sounds hot and tasty to you, here are some ideas of how you can do the same:

What’s a digital sabbatical?

Until I heard Jen Louden refer to it as a digital sabbatical, I used to think of excusing oneself from the internets for a predetermined length of time as “going dark.” Lights out. Plugs detached. Switches off. Connections closed.

But there’s something about the word ‘sabbatical’ that suggests a spirit of rest, inquiry, and intention, all of which I’d like to think I’m carrying into my week off from all things web-related.

A digital sabbatical can have any perameters you want around it, but for me, it means none or very little of the following: web surfing, blog reading/commenting, blog post writing, emailing, Facebook-ing, Twitter-ing, and “working.” {Though, for me, just being awake has me in a state of “work” — inspiration gathering, idea culling, intuiting direction for the next project, playing with words.}

How do you know when you need {or ought to take} a digital sabbatical?

You just know. You’ve probably been feeling a little crispy for a while. You’ve got perpetual brain fuzz that clears for just a few precious hours a day – and that window of time seems to be narrowing by the day. You’ve been interacting and networking and being helpful a lot. You’re overwhelmed with ideas. You’re tired of your trail mix recipe. You’re not sure which direction to turn first. You want to create, or be a part of, something terrific.

You haven’t had a digital sabbatical in ages.

Why it’s okay to want {& then to take} a digital sabbatical

A digital sabbatical is a very natural and human thing to crave in a world that has become entirely digitally dependent. Twenty years ago, people didn’t live the way we live today. Today’s interweb-obsessed world would have seemed totally funny and unnatural to us back then. {“You mean, I type into the computer what I’m doing just…to let people know what I’m doing?”}

So know that your wanting to step outside the digi-vortex for a little while is a perfectly natural desire.

You don’t have to lie about why you’re disconnecting. You can just say, “I’m going on a digital sabbatical,” then send them the link to this post. No need to make up a story about an unfortunate allergic reaction swelling your eyes shut and leaving your fingers inert, or an obscure relative in Okeechobee requesting your presence. We’ll all understand and we’ll still be here when you get back.

What your digital sabbatical could look like

It’s a good idea to tell your people that you’re taking a digital sabbatical. You don’t want to just fall off the map and have them wondering where you’ve went. If you have clients or customers, you should let them know that you’ll be away and virtually unreachable, when you’ll be back, and that all projects are on delay ‘til then.

You could retreat alone and make quietude the goal – stay in your head, be with yourself. You could hang out with family and friends offline and make the time about something other than what you talk about online.

You could switch to writing only with a pen and paper. {My favorite is the Pilot G-2 07 in black or blue.}

You could check in online to all your usual hangouts once a day, but only once a day, and for a short amount of time that you pre-decide. {10 minutes?} You could lurk on the archives of a newly discovered blog whose voice you just can’t get enough of and drink deeply from just that one source.

Or you could eschew the digital world altogether. {Because that’s kind of, you know, the point.}

What my digital sabbatical will look like

My digital sabbatical will take place on a beach in South Carolina, with my boyfriend and his parents. In the mornings, I’ll sit out on the balcony with a cup of coffee and watch the ocean, listen to the gulls get lively, observe the walkers and joggers fill up the beach.

During the long, stretchy hours of the early afternoon, I’ll lay on a beach chair in the sand with a striped conductor-style cap on my head, reading Elin Hilderbrand novels, savoring each line like she’ll never publish again. In the hottest middle part of the day, I’ll wade into the waves and watch silver fish sleek by, praying none of them makes contact with my skin. {I’m a Pisces, but I don’t actually play well with the fishes.}

I’ll capture any ideas that waft by on paper only. I’ll ignore my BlackBerry. I won’t even take it to the beach.

In the evenings, I’ll eat fried fish or caprese salad with fresh basil or the amazing New York-style pizza we carry out from the spot owned by Pete, who has a pronounced Brooklyn accent and once referred to my boyfriend as “dat guy.”

I’ll check email once a day – if I feel like it – and reply to messages only if urgent.

From what I hear, August is a good month for a digital sabbatical. It’s a slow time of year for blogs – lots of recycled content and “best of” posts. Maybe this is a good time for you to plan your digital sabbatical, even if it’s only for one precious weekend.

What I want from this digital sabbatical

What I’m asking for in this sabbatical is clarity, direction, and a compelling wind of follow-through in my next endeavor. I’m one who’s never at a loss for ideas. My challenge is always knowing which one to start with.

More than anything, I want Fall of 2010 to matter. I have a feeling that’s what this little break is going to be about. Mining, shining up, and honing that which will matter and make the biggest and best difference to me and to my right people.

I’ll be back in a week. Take care, have fun, and play nice in the comments.