Freedom From Information
On tech-free nature retreats
When I look back at some of the peak experiences of my life, they all have something in common: time in nature without my phone.
One of these moments was after I dropped out of college in February 2023. A few months after that decision, I decided to take another leap and book a one-way flight to Sevilla to do some solo travel for the first time ever.
For one part of my trip to Europe, I found myself volunteering on a farm in the Italian Alps. On my day of rest from cutting grass, I spent the entire day hiking by myself in the forest with no phone. I stepped barefoot into an aquamarine-colored river and scared the fish away with my shivers. After I warmed up with my wool socks and beanie, I walked to a secluded Italian restaurant on a lake. I ordered a full course meal: acqua frizzante, breadsticks, ravioli, pork, chocolate cake, and espresso. Without a phone or distraction in sight except all that was in front of me, I closed my eyes and savored every bite, knowing that I might never be there again. It was one of the happiest days of my life.
For the entire day, I got the chance to think without any interruptions. At the time, after leaving college, I thought about what I wanted to do with my life. After reading Mastery by Robert Greene, I spent time thinking back to my childhood about the commonplace objects and activities that had an extra special glimmer to them. With no notifications and no information coming into my mind, I had all the time in the world to visit my spatial memories. While sitting on a bench looking out at a lake surrounded by evergreen trees, I reminisced on the house I grew up in, the piano class my Mom put me in, the playground from elementary school, art class in middle school, fishing with my Dad, and all kinds of other memories that helped me remember who I was.
In my keepsakes, I remembered that I kept a journal of quotes in a notebook. In elementary school, I remembered that I always loved spelling class. We even had a spiral-bound book of words called “Power Words,” where, as a 5th grader, I learned big-boy words like “gargantuan” and “marvelous.” Even though I wasn’t aware of it at the time, I loved reading fiction. One of my favorite classes in middle school was SSR—sustained silent reading. I also realized that I actually liked writing, and although I didn’t always like the topic that I was writing about, I did like looking over words and asking my mom to help me draft emails to my teachers.
I also remembered that I used to love drawing optical illusions. I liked origami. I was obsessed with the aesthetics of Bicycle card decks that I would do magic tricks with. I remember looking at the moon through a telescope and marveling at all the little craters on the surface and seeing the rings that circled Saturn.
During that day of thinking, there were so many things like that that came up. Forgotten clues about my true nature. It reminded me of what Ray Bradbury once wrote: “All of us have photographic memories, but spend a lifetime learning how to block off the things that are really in there.”
That day in the Italian wilderness, I got to catch up on missed thoughts, sort of like catching up on all those unread emails that never seem to stop coming. But unlike the emails, these thoughts actually mattered. I didn’t know it at the time, but the luxury I got to experience that day was the luxury of freedom from information.
Freedom From Information
“As I came down from the mountain, I recalled how, not many years ago, it was access to information and movement that seemed our greatest luxury; nowadays it’s often freedom from information, the chance to sit still, that feels like the ultimate prize.”
— Pico Iyer
Over the past two years, I’ve made tectonic shifts in how I think about consuming information. In that time, I’ve deleted TikTok, Snapchat, Instagram, and all news apps. Sure, from time to time I check Twitter on my MacBook. But I’ve spent an enormous amount of time escaping the bubble of culture, reading books that were not created in the 21st century.
In the past six months, I’ve learned a lot about the virtue of less inputs by reading books like Walden and the Odyssey, which gave me a similar feeling to the one I had in Italy. Only this time, timeless truths were shielding me from the noise of the world.
While consuming less, I realized why the world is so anxious: there’s just too much content out there. Podcasts, YouTube, TikTok. Music always playing. TVs always on. Blah, blah, blah. Content fatigue is a real thing. Not to mention the insane norm of everyone walking outside with their AirPods in. Life is so peaceful when you can just hear the sound of cardinals chirping, but sadly, people nowadays are anxious because they are deaf.
While I know I’m contradicting myself by writing this essay and adding to the content gluttony online, I should also say that I’m not against the Internet or AI or any new technology. The Internet has changed my life, and I’m well aware of its power to do good—not just evil. I often remind myself that the last 17 months of my life rest on one crappy cold email.
But as powerful as the Internet is, there are some serious side effects that I call Internetitis. Internetitis includes invisible symptoms like loneliness, less time outside, and less think time. The fact that “mental health day” and “digital detox” are in our slang tells me that something is broken. “Digital detox” implies that people know they need time away from their screens. And what does someone do on a “mental health day?” She tends to go outside and put her phone away.
Society wants to feed us our every next thought, but I’ve started to rebel. Every day, I feel a craving to journal, meditate, and walk outside without my phone. This is a craving I wish to create in a culture that can’t sit still. By writing this, I hope to inspire you to spend more time with yourself. Take out those AirPods when you walk outside. Leave your phone at home when you go over to a coffee shop. Create some kind of cocoon, a hiding place only for you.
Awe Deficiency Disorder
Tim Ferriss is a massive inspiration for my interest in retreats. In an interview with Dr. Andrew Huberman, he said that one of his top priorities every year is to block out weeks of time off-the-grid in nature. No reading. No writing. Just going on hikes and sitting with himself.
What stuck out to me most was what he said about awe:
“I do think we suffer from awe deficiency disorder, a bit of ADD, when we're trapped in the mundane for too long with too much distraction, with too many to-do's, with too many relationships, and there's no space for awe there. There isn't the room necessary. Awe isn't, from my perspective, generally a quick hit that you get in the 30 seconds between using two apps. There's more breathing room required for genuine transcendent experience of awe.”
We are living in a world where the default is missing out on beauty. A large part of this comes from feeling like people will wonder if you’re still alive if you don’t respond to their texts in the next nanosecond or two.
But this anxious responding to texts is only a relatively recent state of consciousness that falsely elevates our sense of self-importance, leading to even more anxiety. Time in nature helps snap us out of the mundane and restore our connection to nature, life, and ourselves.
Wonder
A friend once told me about the difference between curiosity and wonder. Curiosity is when you’re seeking an answer, but wonder is when you don’t need an answer because you’re in total awe, just witnessing it all.
When I was walking on the trails of Austin one day, me and that same friend saw this ginormous gray bird with a long neck. Was it a stork? Was it a heron? We both thought the same thing: “Let’s take a picture of this and ask ChatGPT what bird it is.”
But then we both held back and just stared at it, without trying to understand it with written language. There was something wonderful about wonder and this idea of not having to measure, document, record, or explain everything.
In the future, I believe it will be a norm for people to seek a new type of luxury: freedom from information. To not know. Increasingly so, I believe that people will do whatever it takes to be totally detached from the data drowning and information overload. Just like people don’t think twice about the relatively new necessity of their Amazon Prime membership, I have a hunch that people will subscribe to tech-free social clubs and retreats in the future.
One of the reasons Eve ate the apple was because she thought the tree would “make one wise.” Same with the Sirens in the Odyssey: their song wasn’t about sexual temptation but the temptation of wisdom. Man wants to know, but what would it be like to not know? To not always be in the loop? To just be?
I got to experience this in the Bahamas this past week. For 3 days we went to the West shore of Andros Island to fish. No cell phone out there on the waters, just my guide and fishing partner for the day. Total peace and connection with nature and guys in the boat. I didn’t miss anything…caught some great fish too 😂🎣
I've learned over time to embrace JOMO - Joy of Missing Out. There is something to be said about not knowing every little detail for every little thing in life.
I have become very aware of how my brain works. Pure silence, which means shutting out all distractions and notifications while working at my desk. While running my own business, I can't stay silent forever (as I do need to discuss things with our team), it allows me to concentrate on the task at hand and accomplish those tasks.
Baxter, keep exploring life!