Shut the Front Door!

E116: Guest Post From Baxter Blackwood: Turn Off Your Notifications

Dateline: Saligao, Goa

We had such a warm, warm welcome back home! Our first hours back were a frenzy of activity. There were cousins on our doorstep ready to help my mother out of the cab. Others to lift out the suitcases and carry them to our rooms. Neighbours stopped by with fresh vegetable dishes and a delicious classic goan prawn/shrimp curry with our distinctive Goa rice¹ (yes, it is colourfully different, Jack - I’ll send photos on Instagram). My mother was feeling a little travel-sick after the long flight from England so another cousin quickly whipped up a batch of kunji/congee² and stopped by with it.

My mother went to rest. I started unpacking. My friend walked through the front door, “Give me a hug! I just had to stop by and say hi.”

I sat to eat a light meal. Another neighbour rang the door bell. “What are you eating for lunch?” (a traditional local greeting). Lunch interrupted.

I threw on my rattiest t-shirt, pulled my hair back into a bun, and began the process of removing dust covers, swatting at the cobwebs clinging stubbornly to the rafters, searching the cupboards through the neatly stowed camphor’d shelves for fresh sheets. In walked another cousin to catch up.

I took a deep sigh.

On one hand, this is exactly what I came for — the close knit community that is so characteristic of village life. But on the other, I was seriously behind on all my settling-in chores.

It reminded me of a line in an essay that

Baxter Blackwood

recently wrote:

“… like leaving the front door of your house wide open. You’re letting anyone intrude on your day whenever they want.”

- Baxter Blackwood’s essay “Turn Off Your Notifications”

As you might guess, my planned essay for this week needs a few more hours of ‘polishing’. Baxter, and other members of my virtual village Tribe Tilt, had offered me help for moments like this. With sincere appreciation, and because he inspired this edition, here is Baxter’s full essay (lightly edited).

The next day, I parlayed his digital-life message into my real-life situation and took preemptive action. I kept the front door latched, sent a Whatsapp message to my cousins suggesting they visit in the evening as we were “resting”, and I motored through a bunch of tasks.

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Thank you,

Baxter Blackwood

for generously allowing me to share this very pertinent essay! [And for lowering the composing/editing lift for me in a week filled with lots of dusting.]

Here is the entire article reprinted for ease.

Turn Your Notifications Off

Author: Baxter Blackwood writes

Strong Convictions, Loosely Held 🦖

You know that feeling when you take your dog out but he doesn’t go pee or poo?

Are you …. serious? “No treats for you.” Frustrated at this fuzzball for interrupting, you sit back down. But five minutes later, he rings the bell to go out again. Now you think, you better piss or shit. He does, so you give him a treat. You’re happy that he finally went, but you’re also getting on edge.

Then the second you get into a good workflow, he rings it again. You march over there to see what’s wrong. He’s barking at a butterfly. Wonderful buddy. SHUT UP. It feels important because he’s barking, but it’s just another interruption. Nothing’s wrong, so you throw your headphones on and get back to work.

But then once again…

These nonstop interruptions aren’t so fun. Maybe it’s a reasonable tax for owning such a cute thing. How could you be mad at him? But imagine this: what if you got false “shit” alarms every minute? 

For most of us, this is a reality with our phones. Swarms of trivial notifications buzzing, like the dog pawing the bell after he’s already been out.

Sure, phone calls and texts can be urgent. But when the dog rings the bell to go pee-pee, you can always tell him, “five more minutes.” Even though he has no clue what you’re saying.

So why do we treat our phones any different? Why do we feel like we have to respond to any notification the second we get it? 

Every ping in your pocket feels urgent because it vibrates your leg. It’s right there. Imagine if you tied the dog bell around your ankle. Like squeaky shoes, you couldn’t ignore it. In the same way, it’s hard to ignore notifications if they’re always on. And we feel like we’ll miss out if we don’t stay “in the loop.” 

But here’s the thing: most notifications aren’t 9-1-1 emergencies.

After you take the dog out and dump some food in his bowl, you’ve done your job. Before you leave him home alone, you fill his water bowl. You trust he’ll be a good boy. We need to do a similar thing with our phones: focus on the vital few notifications and leave the rest behind.

But since we blend texting and sending memes, we get confused. We forget what’s meaningful. [1] One time at the family dinner, a guy we’ll call Dan got a text from a landscaper. The two of them had a meeting the next day. When Dan picked up his phone, I asked him, “Is it urgent?” With eyes down, he answered me with a sarcastic “Yep.” Then I pushed him: “More important than us?” He got a little hot after I said that. 

This is absurd. 

We live in a world infused with interruption, poor with presence.

We deny people our full attention because of a quick text we could type out later. Notifications skew our importance detectors. Because of them, we don’t appreciate the simple sacred things, like the family dinner.

Understand: you don’t have to answer every text right now. Like the dog barking at a butterfly, it’s intriguing but irrelevant. It’s irritating over time.

So here’s my challenge for you: turn off your social media notifications. Disable anything that doesn’t directly impact your relationships or work. You probably only need phone calls and texts on. Maybe email. [2]

Think about it: having every notification turned on is like leaving the front door of your house wide open. You’re letting anyone intrude on your day whenever they want. Would you own a dog that yelped at you every single minute? 960 woofs per day? Hell no. You’d have to demand his last supper request. [3] 

We all need a break from the barks of our phones. 

Join the movement. Live without interruptions.

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What do you think of the topics Baxter raises? Let’s start a discussion and take some action!

Did you guess that one so wise is all of 20 years old? I have come to enjoy his writing style. Such wisdom in one so young reaffirms my faith for the future of the world.

I encourage you to click on the link below for the full experience that Baxter has crafted for his lucky readers, including the right artwork and detailed footnotes. Please become one of his regular readers - each week he offers a different slant on our daily lives.

Turn Off Your Notifications

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“Where have I seen this photo before?”
It is 20 years old, but it made an appearance in last year’s Christmas issue. It is one of my favourite photos of our (open) front door, from the collection that might make it into the travel memoir (working title Ripples) that I am writing.

Our 2004 Christmas family portrait

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Thank you for being a part of Tribe Tilt. We are a group that believe we can make a difference to the people and places that are precious to us - that we have hope and agency in our lives. A very warm (ha ha, she says, steaming away at 28C and no a/c in Goa!) welcome to all our new subscribers including a young photographer/environmentalist I met at IFFI (International Film Festival of India … like TIFF/Sundance). Follow her adventures “@”photonokha on Instagram.

Stay healthy. From there all else becomes possible. Hoping to see you again next week.

Karena

Would you like to join our Tribe Tilt?

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1. Goa rice: the strain is Ukda Tandul, similar to matta rice. The grain is chubby, but what sets it apart is the way it is processed. It is parboiled, and not fully polished. With its additional husk (it looks like red and white pyjama stripes) it is very nutritious. Not pushing these links and not an affiliate, but there are photos and these links do a better job of explaining the process and benefits https://www.amazon.in/Sattvic-Foods-Goan-Rice-Parboiled/dp/B071S3QZ27

2. Called kunji or paez in our local dialect konkanni, it is a soupy rice/water mixture that is easy on the stomach. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Congee