I look up at the light through the leaves, smiling in amazement at how good I feel.
The heat is intense, but comforting. It feels like walking through an invisible wall, almost like wading through water.
I can't wait to jump in.
I cross the river, loving the cold water on my feet. Through bushes and hidden trails and ancient seabeds full of sand and shells.
I want the perfect place to get in, where the water is deep enough and nobody is around.
I cannot believe it has been almost a month.
I have pulled the plug on unnecessary media and technology use. Surprisingly, once I made the decision sincerely, it was no big deal.
But I was ready for it.
It has been almost ten years since I first felt something was off that day in Hawaii, lost on my devices instead of being outside doing the things I love.
Well. Here I am.
I find the perfect spot, pull off my sweaty T-shirt and edge into the spring-fed creek.
I gasp. It is shocking, but it feels good. I decide to go for it and plunge in, head under, into another realm. Baptised by the water.
The sweat of life is cleared.
The mind is silent.
I surface and lie on my back, floating, looking at the trees and distant canyons.
And I have it.
What changed? How come I am finally free?
For years, I believed the only solution was to unplug completely and hide the phone in a safe four hundred feet underground, surrounded by sharks.
It has been almost a month. No box. No rocks. No sharks.
Blaming technology for every problem made me a victim in a dystopian thriller. Here, I felt like the protagonist in my own adventure again. I could choose, and a whole world had opened before me.
Put another way: I am not their bitch any more.
I start to feel cold and climb out into the dry heat. I dry off a little and lie in the partial shade, feeling the sun burning on my feet.