UNLEARNING TECH, UNCONSCIOUS DUMP

Written by Ben Tallon


Early Sunday morning, 2am-ish, I’m woken by one of the kids calling for the duvet to be pulled back over. A chilly night. When I return to bed, I’m still with eyes closed and a foggy brain. Beautiful: drift right back off and see you in the morning. Bu there’s a drip, one great thought delivered by my unconscious. Another drip, then a cascade of liquid gold: solutions, ideas, pivots, you name it, and I’m wide awake. Irritating? As least the timing, yes. But my word it’s good. There are breakthroughs in blockades I didn’t know I had, lists writing themselves for my coaching strategy, and new sections for the website presenting themselves, in finished form. Eventually, with my conscious brain about to burst, I reach for my phone and make four paragraphs of shorthand notes. When I look in the morning I expect indecipherable drivel, but it’s not.


I can’t be certain why this happened but having written about this extensively, read up on the topic of the unconscious’ role in creativity, it all aligns. Feed your head, give it time to rest and process, and when you least expect it, the answers will comes. Nobel prize winning ideas came this way.


Over the last few weeks I’ve been unlearning the destructive screen habit. I spend much of my work days on one, and I’ve been identifying opportunities to dissect it, to inject methods of organising, planning, working without the need to stare at a monitor, laptop, and smartphone.


Paper diary.


Recycled stock exercise book for my coaching research.


More play with paints and pens on paper and with collage.


Stricter routines for keeping up with messages and emails both social and professional.


Reading more books and less TV.


Balance.


And I have to think it’s beginning to pay off. Couple this with a ban on screens during my dog walks and I feel more connected in conversations, outdoors, and during trips from A to B. Everything a little richer, and less work required for the solutions to my challenges and ambitions.


My problems? They’ve shrunk a little.



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MOMENT OF JOY