The Sabbath Manifesto

One thing I haven't written too much about this month is the weekly day of rest that I've been observing inspired by the The Sabbath Manifesto, an awesome project I stumbled upon a few years ago. An excerpt from their site explaining what they're all about:

Way back when, God said, “On the seventh day thou shalt rest.”  The meaning behind it was simple: Take a break. Call a timeout. Find some balance. Recharge.

Somewhere along the line, however, this mantra for living faded from modern consciousness. The idea of unplugging every seventh day now feels tragically close to impossible. Who has time to take time off? We need eight days a week to get tasks accomplished, not six.

The Sabbath Manifesto was developed in the same spirit as the Slow Movement, slow food, slow living, by a small group of artists, writers, filmmakers and media professionals who, while not particularly religious, felt a collective need to fight back against our increasingly fast-paced way of living. The idea is to take time off, deadlines and paperwork be damned.

In the Manifesto, we’ve adapted our ancestors’ rituals by carving out one day per week to unwind, unplug, relax, reflect, get outdoors, and get with loved ones. The ten principles are to be observed one day per week, from sunset to sunset. We invite you to practice, challenge and/or help shape what we’re creating.

So, in the spirit of the Sabbath Manifesto, one day of the week (typically Sundays, how Catholic of me), I've been avoiding technology 100%. No Gmail, no Facebook, no Macbook, no iPhone, no exceptions. It's awesome.

Not only do I legitimately feel rested by the end of the day, but I've found some pretty funny, tech-free ways to entertain myself. For instance, last Sunday night when Dan and I made up a great new version of "Go Fish" we're calling "Gefilte Fish" when we couldn't remember the real rules of the game (that's right, we couldn't remember the rules to Go Fish—our parents sure got a laugh out of that phone call). You get my drift though, right? You might think your imagination disappeared with childhood, but it's still there. It's just hidden under layers of unchecked emails and to-do lists.

But since it's almost sunset now, I'm signing off until sunset tomorrow. Off for some analog fun with friends...