Right here, right now

How to disconnect from the virtual world and be present in our actual world

It cracks me up when I hear San Francisco tech bros complaining about their jobs and the housing market while sitting in a hot spring. Maybe they think they’re relaxing in the hot water, but I don’t think they’re really relaxing. It seems like they’re continuing to feel the stress from their work lives.

And yes, this happens pretty often in California hot springs.

Even in this beautiful natural setting, they’re not able to think about nature because they’re still thinking about their manager and their apartment and all of these other things.

Myself, I moved away from San Francisco long enough ago that I no longer spend most of my time thinking about housing or my tech job. I feel somewhat superior at having successfully detached from that world, relieving myself from the conditions for severe burnout.

But I, too, can spend all my time in a hot spring thinking only about the past or the future.

Thinking about the past, I listen to and tell stories. Explaining how I got there, how we rented the van, where we drove from, what my job is, all the logistics of life that add up to being in some remote location in the eastern Sierras.

Thinking about the future, I chat with Dave seemingly endlessly about where we should travel next, what hikes we want to do, which days are going to be library days, how to stay in good quality air, what food we want to get, what ranger programs we want to attend, where do we find our next cheap gas…

Sharing past stories can be helpful, talking it out to relieve stress. And, logistical travel concerns can expand to fill the entire time.

But there’s also a beauty in being able to let the past and future go sometimes.

I think some people assume I’m carefree while camping and traveling, or that it’s automatic to become absorbed in nature away from the internet, phone, computer, work, and social communication.

But actually, all these things are still present in my life.

(See what I did there? The stress is present, not past or future…)

It takes a real conscious focused effort to notice where I physically am, in the present moment, even if I’m in a beautiful natural place. Some technology tricks help. I put my phone on airplane mode while I’m hiking, even if I’m in a location that might have cell coverage.

Airplane mode helps preserve my battery life so I can take all the photos I want and identify birds based on their sounds and check the map in AllTrails to figure out where I’m going. And, I don’t want to be getting messages real-time which I won’t have the mental bandwidth or cell signal to respond to at that time.

If I get a message from a friend or client while I’m hiking, I start thinking about it. I have a tendency to plan out what I should say, to consider it in great detail. This is helpful for formulating comforting advice about what to do if someone asks you about a trans person, but is a real buzz-kill of repetition out on the trail.

I find being always online to be very stressful. Even back on the East Coast where I get cell service almost everywhere, I’ve started putting my phone in airplane mode when I’m otherwise focused.

Making an effort to check my messages at a time when I can reasonably respond is a healthier workflow for me.

It’s incredibly helpful to make that extra breathing room, that separation between the times when I am productively helping other people or being friendly, supportive, communicative, and the times when I’m not doing any of those things. Ideally, when I’m soaking in a hot spring with my phone turned off in my bag, I shouldn’t be thinking about what I should do for someone else on the other side of the country.

Recently, I spent the morning soaking in my favorite hot spring with my partner. At first, we chatted about all the usual things: where we’re traveling next, news of the world, the books, podcasts, and media we’ve experienced recently.

I felt like I was relaxing, but I didn’t feel relaxed. Too much going on.

I stood up out of the hot pool, leaving the conversation, and sat down in the cold river, immersing myself up to my neck in flowing, icy water. It feels good after you get too hot.

Back on the rock pathway, my partner asked me if I was ready to leave. “I guess so,” I said.

“Or,” he said, “I have an idea.”

He had a really good suggestion—for us to spend a few minutes soaking in the hot spring in complete silence. No talking. Being present in the moment, as a meditation. I agreed.

After one more nice cold plunge, we settled into the hot water.

I closed my eyes for a few seconds, trying to push away my thoughts. I became more aware of the noise of my surroundings. Kids played nearby, yelling cheerfully. The river water rushing by. The wind in the trees. A dog barked. A parent reprimanded. And the hot water falling over the edge of the rock was a constant pitter-patter of droplets.

I sank down into the hot water, feeling it surround my chest and shoulders. I felt the water dripping onto my arms and face. I tried to keep it out of my mouth, wiping off the drips with my fingers.

I felt the water on my skin. I could feel the shape of my body as I sat, crouching, holding my thighs with my hands to keep everything together. I’m often aware of how my body looks and feels, and not necessarily in a positive way. I tried not to judge my own awareness of my body.

Opening my eyes, I saw the dimples of the drops falling onto the clear surface, green and brown and grey ripples flowing towards the rocks. The drops as they bounced became white before fading into the surface.

The scene would be hard to capture in paint. Everything was moving. The wind was blowing. The water was rippling and falling. Mini waves crashed over rocks in the mountain river.

I watched the leaves rustle across the river. The leaves of an aspen tree were flipping back and forth from dark surface to light underside, quaking, but not going anywhere.

I wished I had my phone so I could take a photo, then tried to let go of that thought. I thought about the blog post I could write about this peaceful meditative experience, and again, tried to stop myself from thinking about making art, a future experience. I was trying my best to be in the present moment.

I accepted that I wouldn’t have any photos of this particular experience. I wouldn’t be able to accurately report on the sensory details later. But this experience wasn’t about making art. This was about my health and wellness and my ability to settle into relaxation.

Now, I am writing a blog post about this experience which you are currently reading. I was able to create a separation between my experiencing that moment, and then later, once that moment became the past, writing about it as a valuable way of processing and expressing what’s important in life.

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Thanks so much for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments.

Take care,

Rey