I just got back from a week of camping in the depths of a wildlife reserve in Quebec. Far be it from me to sell you on the joys of lying in a slightly damp tent with a little sand still between your toes. Nor will I try to convince you that cooking all your meals on the embers or on a tiny burner, under a tarp, during a heavy downpour, is the ultimate experience. Camping is not for everyone, and I understand that.
On the other hand, I could tell you about the splendor of the wilderness. Falling asleep to the sound of the loon’s song, far from the emergency sirens of big cities or the incessant roar of the roads. Diving into the fresh, clear water of one of our half-million lakes. Smelling the mixture of humus and conifers when you enter a trail in the middle of the forest. Seeing the moon rise, through the thousands of stars, without any light pollution. How infinitely lucky we are to live in a country where nature still holds a predominant place. We would be crazy not to take advantage of it!
But what I really want to tell you about are the extraordinary benefits of digital disconnection. Our little “tribe” escapes into nature every year. At the height of our escapade, our happy bunch includes about twenty children and about as many adults. Our days consist mainly of hiking, beach volleyball, swimming, paddleboarding across the lake, spikeball, watercolor drawing and board games, all practiced according to each person’s desires and depending on the vagaries of the weather. At no time do we hear a child or teenager asking for a tablet, a phone or any other form of screen. Sometimes, when a kid is tired or doesn’t know what activity to do anymore, he crashes into one of the hammocks suspended between the trees, with or without a book.
The most far-sighted adults — read here all except me — have charged their phones simply for the pleasure of taking pictures, or to have the time. During a conversation, where we look for the name of a city, a character or the ingredient of a recipe, we have the reflex to turn to a search engine, but without available network, we quickly understand that we will have to wait for our memory to return or live with our collective memory lapse.
More seriously, not being able to read our emails, not being aware of all the bad news on the planet, not getting lost in a spiral of insipid videos, or not being able to compare our vacation photos with those of everyone we know, is leaving space for contemplation, deeper reflections and a certain reconnection with the elements. We surprise ourselves by being able to look at the celestial vault for as long as we would to binge-watch episodes of a series.
Making a star, alone, in the middle of the lake (with a swimming ball, just to enjoy it safely) remains the best way I have found to clear my mind, to let myself be rocked far from my mortgage renewal and the variations in the key rate. I close my eyes, I let my body relax and I float. Quite simply. It is one of the rare times of the year when I can truly say that I have reached a meditative state.
Of course, we can do this every day. All we have to do is turn off our smartphone, sitting cross-legged in the living room. But I think that being able to do it for several days is what “detoxifies” us more deeply. Whether we like it or not, we have all become more or less dependent on screens. How many of you are reading this column on a digital device? I am not against these technologies which, in many ways, simplify our lives. However, I believe that voluntarily disconnecting for a few days has beneficial effects on our morale, our neck and our eyes.
That being said, we are among friends during this stay in the woods, and so I do not lack social connections. We chat, we exchange, we laugh. It is very far from a silent retreat, especially with twenty children who are hungry, thirsty or looking for the volleyball or their life jacket. I imagine that for people who are more alone, digital disconnection is not always beneficial since it cuts off all forms of interaction and increases isolation.
But whether it’s camping, in a cabin or through any other form of escape, the idea remains mainly to feed one’s mind with something other than the content of social networks. Whether it’s to observe the various stages of development of tadpoles and sunsets, or to pick Labrador tea, taking a break in nature should be accessible to everyone. However, this is not the case. Think of people on low incomes or people with disabilities, for whom going into nature is not so easy, or even impossible in some cases. I find it unfair that a simple forest bath is a luxury in a society as developed as ours.
I won’t hide from you that I often come back exhausted from this week of adventure: unpacking camp, then driving three hours to the city and then doing 12 loads of laundry that smells like fire, it’s tiring. But the children and we are refreshed, invigorated. We come back with our heads full of memories, our hearts lighter, and our email inboxes full to bursting. I then resume the course of my life with a smile, a few injections, and above all, more energy and a lot of gratitude.