Hello Reader,

Have you ever noticed how your phone has become less of a tool and more of an extension of your body? The subtle weight in your pocket that you check for instinctively. The screen that lights up your face more often than the sun some days.

I certainly had—and it troubled me.

Not because technology is inherently problematic, but because I sensed something valuable was being displaced in the constant digital exchange. Connection. Presence. The quiet space where creativity and insight naturally emerge.

So I decided to try something radical, at least by today’s standards: 30 days with no phone.

The Moment That Changed Everything

The decision came after a seemingly ordinary dinner with friends. As we talked about our lives—real struggles, genuine joys—I caught myself nodding while simultaneously thumbing through notifications under the table. The conversation continued around me while I existed in two places at once—physically present but mentally elsewhere. Then, later that night, as I was watching Netflix, I noticed myself reaching several times for my phone to check messages, my social feeds, and news.

Something clicked in that moment. I recognized that, despite being part of a generation that grew up with no phones or computers, these patterns that had gradually become my default way of being—partially present everywhere, fully present nowhere. Can you relate?

“What might happen,” I wondered, “if I removed the constant digital tether for a while?”

Not forever. Not dramatically. Just a conscious experiment to see what might emerge in the space created by absence.

First Week With No Phone: The Uncomfortable Truths

I’ll be honest with you—the first few days with no phone were genuinely uncomfortable.

My hand reached for my pocket dozens of times daily. Each time, the absence of my device triggered a moment of mild panic and a deep fear of missing out, then followed by a sense of relief. This constant cycle revealed how deeply ingrained constantly checking my phone had become.

What surprised me most wasn’t the frequency of reaching for my device—it was recognizing what triggered these moments:

• Brief periods of uncertainty about the future
• Small pockets of silence when I felt bored
• Moments during the day when I didn’t know what to work on next.
• Just before falling asleep or right after waking up
• Times of financial challenge or emotional discomfort

In other words, precisely the spaces where growth, connection, and insight might naturally occur. That’s when I realized I was using my phone to escape or distract me from those very moments that might transform me.

Let that sink in.

What Changed Inside Me

As the days continued, the constant digital craving began to quiet. And in that newfound internal space, unexpected transformations emerged that I hadn’t anticipated:

1) My relationship with time fundamentally shifted

Without the constant micro-interruptions of notifications and checks, my perception of time expanded dramatically. Days felt longer—not in a tedious way, but in a spacious one. There seemed to be enough time for both productivity and presence, something I’d previously thought impossible.

Research from the University of California explains this phenomenon: task-switching creates “attention residue” that remains even after we’ve moved on to something new. This cognitive fragmentation compresses our experience of time and depletes mental resources.

When this fragmentation fell away, time itself seemed to expand. I completed long-delayed projects while still having hours for contemplation, connection, and rest.

The gift of expanse: One evening during week two, I sat on a mirador and watched the sunset—fully watched it—from the moment the sky began to color until the last light disappeared. What would normally have been a rushed five-minute photo opportunity became an hour-long meditation that left me feeling deeply nourished.

Try this: For just one day, put your phone in another room and notice how your perception of time shifts. Does it expand? Contract? What emotions arise in that spaciousness?

2) My nervous system recalibrated

Perhaps the most profound change happened in my body. A baseline level of activation—a subtle but constant state of alert readiness that I’d grown so accustomed to I no longer recognized it—began to dissolve.

My shoulders relaxed away from my ears. My breathing deepened naturally. Sleep arrived more easily and lasted longer. Morning anxiety virtually disappeared. I felt more energized. Even my digestion improved.

I realized my nervous system had been maintaining a low-grade fight-or-flight response to manage the constant potential for interruption. Without my conscious awareness, this had become my normal state—until I experienced the contrast.

3) My attention returned to me

After about ten days, I experienced a quality of attention I hadn’t felt in years—sustained, deep, and naturally curious. Rather than constantly scanning for the next stimulus, my mind settled into whatever was before me with genuine interest.

Reading became immersive again. Conversations had a quality of discovery. Even routine tasks contained unexpected richness when approached with full attention.

This wasn’t about forcing focus through willpower. It was about removing the constant training in distraction that our devices inadvertently provide. When that training stopped, my natural capacity for attention gradually restored itself.

4) My creative mind and intuition reawakened

Perhaps most surprising was the return of spontaneous creativity. Ideas, insights, and connections began arriving unprompted—not just professional insights but creative impulses I hadn’t felt in years. Surprisingly, I also felt even more connected to God or Spirit.

I started journaling again and even received two new songs. It became easier to see patterns across seemingly unrelated fields, to connect the dots, and to see the bigger picture. My life’s vision became vivid and meaningful again. Solutions to long-standing challenges appeared during quiet moments.

In the third week, I found myself spontaneously sketching ideas for several projects I’d abandoned months earlier. The solution that had eluded me for so long appeared effortlessly when my mind had the space to wander.

During this time, I reflected deeply about all the work I’ve been doing with clients and students since I became a coach and started to see every part as a piece of a puzzle I’ve been creating without even being aware of it. What emerged is something I identified as an ecosystem with the Heart Leader Operating System at its epicenter. I even wrote the Heart Leader Manifesto.​

Neuroscience helps explain this phenomenon. Creativity requires activation of the brain’s “default mode network”—a state that emerges primarily during unstructured time without external demands on attention. This network gets very little activation in our constantly-connected lives.

5) My emotional landscape expanded

Without the constant digital escape hatch, I began experiencing my emotions more fully—both comfortable and uncomfortable ones. Boredom. Loneliness. Uncertainty. Grief. Joy. Wonder. Contentment.

Rather than immediately soothing or distracting from emotional discomfort, I practiced staying present with whatever arose. This wasn’t always easy, but it revealed something powerful: emotions, when fully experienced, naturally move through us. It’s our resistance and avoidance that often cause them to persist or intensify.

As meditation teacher Tara Brach notes, “What we resist persists. What we feel, we can heal.”

What Emerged in the Space Between

Beyond these internal shifts, I noticed changes in how I related to the world around me:

• The subtle expressions on people’s faces that telegraph their emotions before words are spoken.
• The natural rhythm of conversations when allowed to unfold without interruption
• The sensory richness of simple experiences—the temperature of wind, the layers in music, the complexity of flavors

Research on attention shows that our brains require about 20 minutes to fully engage with any experience. With constant digital interruptions, we rarely give ourselves this gift of complete immersion. No wonder life can sometimes feel shallow or unsatisfying despite being filled with potential richness.

Try this: The next time you’re in conversation with someone important to you, notice how the quality of connection shifts after 15-20 minutes of uninterrupted presence. Something almost magical happens when we cross this threshold.

Creating a New Relationship

As the 30 days drew to a close, I faced an important question: How could I integrate what I’d learned without rejecting technology entirely? After all, without technology I could never do the work I do!

The answer came not from rigid rules but from reconnecting with what matters most to me: presence, depth of connection, creative flow, and inner peace.

I created some simple guidelines that continue to serve me well:

• Mornings belong to me, not to the digital world (no phone for the four hours while I’m doing my deep work)
• One full day each week remains device-free.
• Phone stays in Airplane mode in a designated spot at home, far from my bedroom when I go to sleep.
• Notifications limited to actual human beings trying to reach me
• Social media accessed intentionally rather than to consume and escape
• I will create more content than what I consume.

What surprised me most was how quickly these boundaries became liberating rather than restrictive. Far from feeling deprived, I felt protected—like I was honoring something precious within myself that deserved this care.

Ask yourself: What one boundary with your device might create more space for your inner life to flourish?

The Deeper Invitation

This experience revealed something beyond practical tips about digital wellness. It showed me how easily we can disconnect from our deeper selves and our intuition without even realizing it’s happening.

Technology isn’t inherently problematic—it’s the unconscious relationship with it that gradually disconnects us from our inner wisdom, from each other, and from the direct experience of our lives.

Your deeper knowing already recognizes this truth. You feel it in those moments of relief when you set your phone aside and take a deep breath. You sense it when a creative insight arrives during a shower or walk. Your heart knows what your mind sometimes forgets—that we need space from stimulation to integrate, create, and connect with what matters most.

Final Thoughts

The most valuable discovery from my 30 days wasn’t about productivity or digital minimalism. It was about remembering what lives within us when we create space for it to emerge: creativity, presence, emotional depth, intuition, and authentic connection.

The world doesn’t need more efficient phone users. It needs more fully present humans because, as Tej Steiner reminds us, you can’t have connection without presence. And becoming more present begins with the courage to disconnect—even briefly—from what distracts us from being present to ourselves.

If you’re feeling called to explore your own relationship with technology while developing practices that nurture your inner life, consider taking a break like I did from your device, or joining a community where this journey becomes more powerful through shared intention and gentle accountability.

What one small step might you take today toward reclaiming your attention and inner life? Your heart already knows the answer. Listen to it, and be sure to follow through. Your next big idea or creative solution depends on it!

From my heart to yours,

—Gabriel

PS. When you're ready, here are several ways I can support you on your journey.
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