The 48-Hour Anchor: Why I Trade My Phone for the Glorious Weight of Sunday
We would be humbled if you joined us. Paid subscribers enjoy 4 articles per month, an ad-free reading experience, and unbiased travel and lifestyle insights.
The 48-Hour Anchor: Rediscovering the Glorious, Slow Weight of Sunday
There is a rhythm to the week here in New England, a pace that pushes and pulls us through commitments and chores. But there is one sacred space, a true sanctuary we guard fiercely, where the world’s noise is banished and time, blessedly, seems to break down: Sunday.
I have found my anchor in a simple, yet mighty, practice: observing a strict digital Sabbath from 9 PM Saturday until 9 AM Monday morning. This small, deliberate shift has made Sunday not just my favorite day of the week, but a genuine time machine back to a slower, more intentional age. It’s like every Sunday feels like the 90s all over again, and I wouldn't trade it for all the scrolling in the world.
The Great Quiet: Finding Peace in Absence
What happens when the constant current of social media, news alerts, and emails ceases? The noise stops. The distractions vanish. Suddenly, your own thoughts have room to breathe, and the day stretches out before you with a profound, almost luxurious slowness.
My Sunday begins with grounding myself in faith, often attending church virtually from the quiet comfort of our home, or occasionally venturing out to a small country chapel. But the true secret to this day is what follows: minimal, or next to no, screen time. The phone is only a camera, nothing more.
Nature’s Wisdom: Seeking a Firm Base
After grounding the spirit, it is time to ground the body. Sunday is strictly reserved for nature. This means pulling the car off the pavement and heading into the woods—no strip malls or errands allowed. It is about finding a trail, putting my feet on the damp earth, and finding a firm base to start the week off right.
This past Sunday, I felt an especially strong pull, chasing the very last, lingering peak foliage along the Maine coast. I took several good, long walks, capturing some amazing photography, but more importantly, truly appreciated the gift of living in the moment. The ability to sit by a stream, watch the light filter through the trees, and just be, without the incessant tug of the phone, is meditative in its purest form.
The Comfort of Yesteryear
The afternoons are reserved for the analog joys of yesteryear. You can often find me with a book or a journal, the quiet scratch of the pen on paper providing its own satisfying, meditative rhythm.
This past Sunday’s midday ritual was perfect Americana. I drove to a neighboring town and visited an old general store, a true relic of local life. The special? A warming bowl of tomato soup paired with a perfect grilled cheese sandwich. And oh, the simple pleasure of the newspaper! When was the last time you bought and unfolded a physical newspaper? There is something incredibly relaxing about having a cup of coffee and the paper spread before you, absorbing the world in print, not pixels.
This combination of quiet faith, nature's constancy, and simple, tangible pleasures is how we recapture our time and our peace. The day stretches on forever, filled not with obligations, but with gentle, intentional joy.
An Invitation to the Slow Revolution
We guard this time because we know how essential it is to emotional and spiritual clarity. We believe that everyone deserves a day like this.
So, I invite you: Join me next Sunday.
Choose a window—even 12 hours instead of 36—and banish the digital noise. Leave your phone on the counter, find a trail, grab a newspaper, and see how much slower, richer, and more joyful your day can become.
You don't need a paywall or a special guide for this. All you need is a willingness to disconnect and the curiosity to rediscover the beautiful silence that has been waiting for you all along.
— Mike Valletta, Chronicler
