Other than our phones, of course

WORDS BY ELLIE LAWTON
PHOTOGRAPHY BY TATIANA COOPER

We are constantly in the presence of our phones. They are with us at our best—when we are on a night out with friends, drunk texting exes, or at concerts, experiencing the chaos and calm through our screens. Our phones are also with us at our worst—when we have a meltdown on the subway and call our moms, or are in the Trader Joe’s line on a Sunday scrambling for our grocery lists in the Notes app while battling for the one ripe avocado in-house. 

We have our phones when we are at work, safe and sound in our pockets, constantly checking for notifications from friends, Instagram, and news outlets, seeking the sweet release of one dopamine hit after another in the midst of our shifts. Some of us even have the outline of our phones imprinted on our jeans, serving as a reminder of the permanence technology has on our daily lives. Forget about watches; those are out of style (except Apple watches, of course). And who needs a watch when you can simply tap the void of your phone screen and see the time instantly? 

In coalescence with Back Matter’s search to ground ourselves in reality for our seventh issue, managing editor Amelia Nonemacher asked the Back Matter team, “instead of reaching mindlessly for your phone, what are you reaching for?” 

The people have spoken, and many of the answers reveal a common thread of how we wish to spend our lives. We want presence. We want stillness. We want real life. We want things both in reach and out of reach, and we want to feel productive. In reading through our team’s answers, I hope you’re encouraged to imagine what you would reach for instead of your phone. Maybe you will find yourself reaching for the same things. Or maybe you will realize that, more often than not, we are all reaching for the same sense of relief, happiness, and serenity in our lives. 

VMY Instead of reaching for my phone, I’d grab a book or my paints. Both help me find peace when my mind is scattered. Getting lost in a story or expressing myself through painting brings a sense of calm and focus, helping me reconnect when everything feels like too much.

AN Ceramic mugs. I want one in my hand at all times. It’s an addiction-slash-collection.

CG Most of the time, it’s a good book or a magazine. Also, I’m pretty phone free in the kitchen. So little kitchen rituals, from making a meal to using a French press, keep me feeling disconnected from tech and present in my life. 

AT My cat.

KR I am reaching for my yoga mat—with everything happening in this day and age, mind-body connection 

and finding stillness is SO important!

AGC My diary—which is actually a planner that I’ve repurposed to record my daily goings-on. Scrolling disappears time, whereas my diary documents it. 

EV Instead of reaching mindlessly for my phone, I reach for a book, a notebook, or a quiet moment. A book—to escape, to learn, to feel. A notebook—to write, to untangle thoughts, to create. A quiet moment to just be—to look outside, to breathe, to listen. Sometimes, I reach for a cup of coffee, a walk, a stretch. Anything that reminds me that life exists beyond the screen, that thoughts don’t need notifications to matter, that the world is here, waiting to be noticed.

NG A pen, a notebook, a camera, and then the door—because “how you spend your days is how you spend your life.”

IS A book.

SW I don’t have anything that I reach for instead of the phone, but I have recently started a habit of just getting up from the seat when I feel the need to check my phone. Whenever I feel that I need the dopamine hit of checking my phone, I just make sure to instantly get up and walk inside the house, or go out the door, look at the world go by for two to five minutes and then come inside. 

TDG Instead of reaching mindlessly for my phone when a man on the N train stares at my thighs and anxiety kicks in, I would stare back—owning my space, my body, my choices. Instead of mindlessly reaching for my phone when they cancel a date last minute, I would take myself to Hunters Point with a boba and sushi and watch the sunset. Instead of using my phone to numb rejection, boredom, or discomfort, as I always do, I would sit with my feelings, embrace solitude, and reclaim my time. Because life isn’t meant to be escaped through a screen—it’s meant to be lived.

DA My cat-eye glasses that have “Tu ne vas pas me faire chier longtemps aujourd’hui” engraved into the temples (secondhand steal), a denim skirt, my journal, and a Pilot G2 .38 (or .07) pen.

EL Sally Rooney’s latest book that currently haunts me from my nightstand. I bring it everywhere with me but never read it… interesting. It has put me in the biggest reading slump of my life. 

TC If I’m not reaching for my phone or craving a break from screens, I instinctively grab either a book or my shoes. My shoes, because I love nothing more than walking through this incredible city, soaking in its chaos and discovering something new. There’s so much to see, and I wouldn’t want to miss a single second.

SK My sketchbook. Last year I sat down to try to rediscover the things that brought me joy outside of work or school, and I found my sketchbook again. I have a new and fervent commitment to myself to never again lose that whimsical joy for my art that I had as a kid, and to make stuff just for fun—not for show or for pride, not to be good, but to be happy.

BG Honestly, it’s rare that I’m not reaching for my phone. As a “retired” fangirl raised by the internet, I cherish my connections to the digital world. But I definitely credit the best AND worst parts of my development to experiencing early life through a screen. In the real world, I would absolutely reach for my cat Appa (yes, from Avatar: the Last Airbender). When I wake up most mornings, he’s already snuggled up against me, and I’m happy to hold him closer instead of embarking on the usual unproductive morning scroll.