I’ve seen this term popping up a lot over the last year. Personally, my mind is immediately transported to analogue clocks and watches. The hands slowly ticking around the face, with their rhythmic tick.
But it was only recently that I sat down to understand what living this way actually means.
So what exactly does it mean?
Do we need to ditch our phones, buy a typewriter and start listening to the radio with a cup of tea in our hands?
Actually, that sounds like my kind of world. But for most of us, it’s not that easy.
What if we have jobs to do, bills to pay, children to feed and messages we actually need to answer?
I’m fortunate, and I appreciate it. I live in the countryside, grow food, walk, write and spend a fair amount of time noticing things that probably wouldn’t make anyone else’s list of priorities.
But I still use the internet. I still have responsibilities. And I certainly haven’t found a magical way to step outside the modern world.
Perhaps analogue living isn’t about turning the clock hands back at all.
Perhaps it’s about finding ways to be more present in the life we’re already living.
So, what is analogue living, in essence?
It’s about making more room for the things we experience directly, rather than through a screen. Reading a book, growing something, making a meal from scratch, going for a walk, having a proper conversation or simply sitting with a cup of tea.
It’s not about rejecting technology or pretending life was better in the past. It’s about finding a balance between the digital world we depend on and the physical world we sometimes forget to notice.
How often have I found myself doomscrolling on the sofa when I could have been outside?
And perhaps that’s where it meets slow living. Not necessarily by doing everything more slowly, but by being a little more intentional about where our time and attention go.
Over the coming weeks, I’m going to explore this idea through a series of short stories and reflections drawn from everyday life.
I’ll be thinking about digital overload and the pressure to always be available, the freedom of staying small, the rewards of getting to know one place deeply, and the less glamorous reality of building a life somewhere new.
Because not everyone can escape to the countryside or another country, give up their job or press the reset button on their life. And we shouldn’t have to.
Maybe there’s a way to live with a little more care, wherever we happen to be.
I’ll be exploring that one ordinary day at a time.
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