“You Go Elsewhere.”

​

“The family went to the pool for a swim. I’ll take a break…just decompress a bit,” Then I would justify these thoughts with, "Maybe I’ll learn something new while I scroll.”

We had just finished an excellent dinner, and someone had made a comment which ended in a chuckle. I was physically present, but one of my family looked over at me and asked, ‘Grayson, where did you go?’

I was on my phone, keeping up with current events. I looked up and smiled, “I’m here, I’m listening.”

“No, when you’re on your phone, you go elsewhere.”

I laughed, “Nah, that’s not true.”

But inside I knew I had missed the comments that caused laughter. I felt the sting, “Oh, I've heard that sarcasm before and it still stings.”

Later in the evening, in a moment of honest reflection, I asked myself, “Why does my family think I go somewhere else when I’m just scrolling? What do I miss besides a laugh? Sure, I wasn't in the flow of the conversation and thought it didn’t really matter.

This holiday was a unique, once in a lifetime experience with all sixteen of our extended family together at a Mexico resort. I started to reconsider my phone use:

“Am I wasting this holiday by trying to keep up with my favorite online platforms?”

“Do I really need to have all the knowledge from these sources? No. Chat GPT can find that for me later.”

“What if, when I’m on my phone, I do go to another place?”

I decided then and there, I’m taking an online “holiday”. No scrolling in the morning, at lunch or evening. I’m pressing “pause” on the flood of Meta and news sites. But I’m not making any declarations. It's more of a quiet intention, which feels far more realistic.

I enter 2026 with a new desire to empty my hands, pockets and brain from useless time-consuming “information”, in two areas:

1. I was confusing being informed with being wise. This holiday from scrolling shifts me toward an awareness I can stay present, even when the conversation lags. I can pause and listen to nothing, without a phone by my elbow.
2. Online, I had become submerged in noise. Stillness in me means I stayed at the table longer and watched a granddaughter’s story unfold. I would have missed it. Inside I felt slower, less fragmented when I chose less noise and more face to face presence.

There’s still an attraction to my phone, but I’m aware of how it isolates me and how disrupting it is to my family relationships.

Stillness is becoming a time of inner stability; not agitating for my phone. I want to stay awhile with you, and not “go elsewhere”.

I’m curious:
Are you tired of the constant noise?

How do you go elsewhere?
Are you possibly missing out?

Let’s meet.

​
​

I would love to connect with you on LinkedIn or Facebook.​

​

See you next week,

Grayson

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