Not one ringtone was heard.  Heads were bowed, but not over iPhones.   Instead, folks were soaking or chatting or reading or just sitting.  Maybe they were sunning nude on a boulder, bag lunch unpacked, at the Narrows.  Perhaps they had found a shady spot and were taking a snooze.  Those were the guests, of course.  The students were working, changing sheets, preparing meals, making coffee.  But one thing no one was doing was surfing or texting or emailing.  No Facebook check-ins or color-correcting in Instagram.  No checking the latest match in OKCupid or fanning the obsession with Candy Crush.  No binge watching the first season of Orange.  Nope, none of that.  The plug had been pulled. The connection to the "outside" was cut.      

I am not important enough to require 2 cell phones, like those that get a paycheck from a financial institution.  One is enough for me.  I'm blessed, and thankful daily, to have DNA without the addictive gene.  But, that doesn't keep me from, what shall I call them, "propensities" or "habits".  What I have is the average everyday vanilla-flavored addiction with my phone.  Not a big one, but a small one nonetheless.  Addiction to booze or sex or Texas hold-em is socially unacceptable, but the addiction to "devices" is promoted, even encouraged.  At least I'm not a gamer.  Some 53% of American adults age 18 and older play video games,1 and about one in five adults (21%) play everyday or almost everyday.

Losing wifi and cell serviced to the valley depths of Tassajara was particularly easy.  There was no service, like on an airplane.  You had no choice but to self-entertain to find something else to do with your hands. There was no temptation or willpower needed.  Upon arrival a fellow guest suggested I put my phone on airplane mode, to keep my phone from "searching".   So that's what I did.  Note, I did not turn it "off".  

I was surprised to find that the lack of cell service or wifi did not keep me from checking my bars.  I had seen satellite dishes behind my cabin, so there must be service (I thought).  Over the first few days, I found myself handling the phone, flipping through photos, taking pictures as if I needed some ""hands-on, tactile time" with my phone.  It still sat on my nightstand, acting as an alarm clock in case I overslept the 6:15 wake-up time or the afternoon nap.