Close (not Closed)

On presence and proximity

Yesterday we had a blizzard in New York. When the snow finally stopped I took a walk down the main street in my neighborhood. It’s lined with restaurants, bakeries, and shops and would normally be bustling on a Monday afternoon. But nearly all the businesses were closed. It was surreal to see all the darkened windows and closed gates in the middle of the day. I thought, “this is what Sunday used to be like.” Sunday used to be a day of rest, or so I’ve heard.

It made me nostalgic for a bygone time when there was more collective support to rest, when deep rest was built into mainstream culture. Yes, we can rest on our own. We can turn off our phone and close the blinds and retreat from the world. But it takes more effort when you know that the world is still humming outside your window, and it’s lonely to do it on your own. There’s that nagging sense of pressure to check things off the to-do list, and of fomo.

In January I went on pilgrimage to India. One of the many gifts of the trip was that for two weeks I barely looked at a screen. Every five days or so, I checked my phone for 10 minutes. That’s it. I can’t overstate the depth of peace I felt when I returned. The meditation and spiritual practices I was doing undoubtedly contributed to how I felt too. But the time offline was huge. Together, the spiritual practice and the withdrawal from busyness provided essential nourishment that I believe humans need on a regular basis. Taking time for deep rest keeps us sane, in our power, and free.

Lots of spiritual and religious traditions acknowledge this. Gandhi used to meditate for an entire day each week. Because otherwise, he said, he would not be able to listen to others for the other six days because he’d be distracted by himself (I’m paraphrasing). Shabbat is the Jewish weekly day of rest when you abstain from work or taking action on the world. One full day every week! When I did an Ayurvedic retreat many years ago in India they advised me not to read anything or write in my journal for the entire two weeks I was there. I was shocked. I considered reading and journaling to be relaxing activities. But there they were considered work that could impede the healing process. When they said “rest,” they meant it on a whole other level from what I was used to.

It’s easy to lose sight of what rest truly is. Given how fast things move these days and how ingrained phone and internet use is in our daily life, the idea of turning off your phone for twenty-four hours, or even three hours, is almost inconceivable.

Also, “rest” is only half of it. This is not only about what you’re not doing. In the examples above and across so many cultures and traditions, the reason for disengaging from daily life is not simply to rest. It’s to turn toward God. Or, as in Buddhism, to turn toward your true nature. Taking time away from the endless stream of busyness gives us space to reflect, connect with what’s truly important, and perhaps redirect our energy when we step back into the flow of things. Popular discourse on rest often talks about it in terms of being anti-capitalist or generally wellness-related (good for your nervous system), but leaves out the spiritual side of it.

It’s also important that we do this together. When we turn inward alone, maybe we find the Divine within. When we do it together, we meet the Divine in one another. We inspire one another. The togetherness is as important as the rest and the spiritual connection. Meditating together, or praying together, is one of the key aspects of spiritual community.

In my first month back from India, one of my main takeaways is a strong desire to de-prioritize virtual “connection” in all its forms—text messaging, Zoom, Instagram—in favor of in-person interactions.

I don’t like how silicon valley has co-opted words like “social” and “community.” The online version of “connection” gives us much, much less than in-person connection. So much less that it almost seems unethical to use the same words to describe these things. And virtual “connections” harm real connection by siphoning off our energy, shortening our attention spans, and bamboozling us into thinking we’re doing something meaningful. The result is that less time and effort is available for building real bonds.

Who in your online community is going to visit you in the hospital? Or give you a hug? Which of them is going to help you shovel your sidewalk? It’s not a community unless you’re breathing the same air. It’s a network. And that’s fine, but it’s a completely different thing. One of my first meditation teachers said that in his lineage, they taught via heart to heart transmission. The teachings were taught in person, straight from the teacher’s heart to the student’s. Where are you getting your heart to heart transmission? Where are you giving it?

At the end of my walk yesterday I passed by a restaurant that had left the “d” off its closed sign. Instead it read “close.” And maybe that’s where I’m heading with all of this. How can we get close to people, to wisdom, to truth? One good way is to turn off our phones and turn inward, together.

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If you’d like to take a deep dive into rest, and feel a disconnect between the healthcare you’re receiving and the care you need, reach out. I’m a Women’s Health Nurse Practitioner and I treat a range of different women’s health and reproductive health conditions, including painful periods, PCOS, irregular cycles, menopause and perimenopause. My approach combines clinical expertise with intuitive and spiritual guidance. If that sounds like something you need, I’d love to hear from you.