My husband and I are sitting in Adirondack chairs in the middle of a shallow, slow moving river. The water is refreshingly chilly, and the trees are filtering the midday sun.
The book I'm reading is wonderful, but the scenes unfolding around me keep taking me from the page and into the 3D world. Kids are splashing in the water, navigating slippery rocks, or trying to find water deep enough to ferry them downstream on inflatable inner tubes. The air is fragrant with the smell of the redwoods, permeated with a peaceful, easy feeling. I am filled with joy.
Ever since I arrived here in Big Sur, my nervous system has been sighing with relief. We're deep in the woods, and unless you're hard-core about getting your digital fix (I've seen a few die hards with elaborate signal boosters in an attempt to get wired up), you are thoroughly unplugged. By all appearances, despite being deprived of email, text alerts, and Facebook updates, most every family we see seems to be having some serious fun.
I have seen this again and again. Kids normally so merged with their screens that they can hardly make eye contact come to life out in nature as if awakening from a deep dream. As we I ride bikes through the campground, we see one family after another cooking around the fire or playing board games. There is a lot of laughter.
Lest I come across as overly nostalgic for "an earlier, pre-digital era," let it be known that I am very fond of my digital devices. I'm on my computer each day, have an increasingly online-based business, and love checking now and again to see what my friends are up to on Facebook.
But it is wearying. My spirit suffers when I am too far away from the elements that have restored my species for thousands of years.
Sitting in the river, I come back to myself. Like those dehydrated sponges that lie flat and dry, I puff up again to my true self when I'm dropped back into nature. We are animals of sorts, meant to move through our days fortified by the sights and smells of the big outdoors, while playing and connecting with those we love, eyeball to eyeball, touch to touch.
When parents ask me how to get their kids off their devices, one of the strongest recommendations I make is to get outside -- together. Kids long to play with their parents, but they need us to get the ball rolling. (Sometimes literally.) Yes, there will be resistance and rolled eyes. No doubt some teens will sulk through the day, furious about being disconnected from their online buddies and outraged at being shuttled off to join the family on "some lame outing."
But I've worked without enough kids to know that if parents acknowledge resistance without delivering annoying pep talks, demonstrating a genuine desire to hang out and have fun with their kids without being needy, the walls do come down.
While we can't all take time off and cart our families to the woods, we can initiate time outdoors having fun. Even a picnic under the moon can interrupt the routine of everyone scurrying off after dinner to plug in.
Breathe in the sounds, the smells, and the peace of a summer day or evening with your kids. Let the beeps beep, the pings ping and the alerts land on deaf ears. Turn away from your screen, and toward your children. You won't regret it.
Susan Stiffelman is the author of Parenting Without Power Struggles: Raising Joyful, Resilient Kids While Staying Cool, Calm and Connected and the brand new Parenting with Presence: Practices for Raising Conscious, Confident, Caring Kids (An Eckhart Tolle Edition). She is a family therapist, parent coach and internationally recognized speaker on all subjects related to children, teens and parenting.
To learn more about her online parenting courses and support, visit her Facebook page or sign up for her free newsletter.
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