The Magic of Going Analog: My 2026 Intention for Slower Living
The notification pings started before my eyes fully opened. Email alerts, social media updates, text messages, all demanding immediate attention before I had even taken my first conscious breath of the day. My phone had become an extension of my hand, a digital umbilical cord tethering me to a world that never stopped moving. As someone who has built a career in digital business management and spends hours crafting content across multiple platforms, I realized I had become a stranger to stillness. The irony was not lost on me that while creating content about magical living and intentional wellness, I was living anything but a magical or intentional life.
My wake up call came on a quiet December evening when I reached for my phone to check the time and found myself thirty minutes deep into a social media scroll I had not consciously chosen. I could not remember the last time I had read a physical book without my phone nearby, written in a journal with an actual pen, or sat in silence without filling the space with a podcast or audiobook (not that I think either of those two are bad things, but I feel I could be doing something constructive, instead of listening while I work, while I listen.)
The tools that were supposed to enhance my productivity and creativity had instead created a constant state of fractured attention. I had become so accustomed to consuming information at high speed that I had forgotten how to simply be present with my own thoughts, my own breath, my own existence.
That realization sparked something in me. I decided that 2026 would be different. This year, I am committing to slowing down by embracing analog living, the practice of intentionally choosing tactile, physical experiences over digital ones. I am not abandoning technology completely, my work requires digital tools, and I genuinely love certain aspects of our connected world. Instead, I am creating boundaries, reclaiming spaces in my life for slowness, presence, and the kind of magic that only happens when we disconnect from the screen and reconnect with ourselves. If you have been feeling the same pull toward something slower and more intentional, I invite you to join me on this journey toward a more analog life.
The Hidden Cost of Constant Connectivity
We live in a world that celebrates productivity, multitasking, and being perpetually available. The digital age promised us freedom, but somewhere along the way, that freedom transformed into an invisible cage. Our smartphones, originally designed to make life easier, have become the first thing we reach for in the morning and the last thing we check before sleep. Studies show that the average person touches their phone over 2,600 times per day, creating a constant cycle of dopamine hits that keeps us reaching for the device even when we have no specific purpose. This perpetual state of digital engagement has rewired our brains, shortening our attention spans and diminishing our capacity for deep, focused work.
The impact extends beyond productivity. Constant connectivity affects our mental health, our relationships, and our ability to experience genuine rest. When we are always available, we never truly disconnect. Our nervous systems remain in a state of low level activation, always alert for the next notification, the next demand on our attention. This chronic state of partial attention leaves us exhausted without understanding why. We scroll through social media for hours, consuming content that makes us feel simultaneously overstimulated and empty. We compare our behind the scenes reality to everyone else’s highlight reel, and wonder why we feel inadequate despite our accomplishments.
For me, the cost became personal when I realized I was missing moments with the people I love because my attention was divided. I was present in body but absent in mind, half listening to conversations while mentally composing social media posts or checking email. I was documenting experiences instead of living them, viewing life through a screen rather than through my own eyes. The magical moments I was trying to capture and share online were losing their magic because I was not fully present to experience them in the first place. This awareness made me understand that something fundamental needed to change.
What Analog Living Actually Means
Analog living is not about rejecting all technology or returning to some romanticized version of the past. It is about making intentional choices to engage with physical, tactile experiences that ground us in the present moment. Analog living means choosing a paperback book over a screen, writing in a journal with pen and paper instead of typing notes on a device, or having a face to face conversation without phones on the table. It means creating spaces in our lives where technology does not dominate, where we can experience the world through our senses rather than through a digital filter.
The beauty of analog living lies in its simplicity and immediacy. When you write in a journal by hand, there is no autocorrect, no delete button, just the flow of your thoughts onto paper. The act of writing becomes meditative, slowing your mind to match the pace of your hand. When you read a physical book, you feel the weight of it, smell the pages, and mark your progress by how many pages remain rather than by a percentage on a screen. These tactile experiences engage different parts of our brain and create different kinds of memories. They anchor us in the physical world rather than the abstract digital space.
Embracing analog living also means being selective about when and how we use technology. It means setting boundaries like no phones during meals, establishing screen free zones in our homes, or designating certain hours as technology free time. It means choosing quality over quantity in our digital consumption, being intentional about what we allow into our attention space. For someone like me who works in digital spaces, this requires extra vigilance. I must create clear distinctions between work time, when screens are necessary, and personal time, when they should be set aside. The goal is not perfection but progress toward a more balanced relationship with technology.
My Analog Living Commitments for 2026
This year, I am making specific commitments to incorporate more analog experiences into my daily life.
First, I am implementing a morning routine that is completely screen free for the first hour after waking. Instead of reaching for my phone, I am reaching for my journal. I am dedicating this time to stream of consciousness writing, dream recording, and setting intentions for the day. This practice allows me to start my day from a place of centeredness rather than reactivity, connecting with my own thoughts before exposing myself to the thoughts and demands of others.
My second commitment involves reading. While I love audiobooks and consumed 228 of them last year, I am returning to physical books for at least half of my reading time. There is something irreplaceable about the experience of holding a book, turning physical pages, and being unable to multitask while reading. I am creating a reading nook in my home, a dedicated space free from screens where I can sink into stories and ideas without distraction. This space will include comfortable seating, good lighting, and a collection of books that call to me, creating an environment that invites slowness and deep engagement.
I am also bringing more analog practices into my creative work. While much of my content creation requires digital tools, I am starting my creative process on paper. Before opening my laptop to write blog posts or create social media content, I am brainstorming with pen and paper, sketching out ideas, and mapping connections by hand. This analog beginning to my creative process slows me down in the best way, allowing ideas to develop more fully before I rush to execution.
Additionally, I am dedicating one day per week to being as screen free as possible, choosing analog activities like cooking from physical cookbooks, crafting with my hands, or spending time in nature without the urge to document every moment.
Creating Your Analog Bag for Screen Free Activities
One of the most practical tools I am implementing in 2026 is what many are calling the Analog Bag, a simple tote that holds everything I need for screen free entertainment and creativity. I have always had one, calling this my “house bag.” But now, we are going to switch gears and use it in a more analog manner.
This “analog bag” concept has been gaining traction across social media, and for good reason. It is a brilliantly simple solution that screams ’90s nostalgia while serving as a powerful antidote to modern digital dependency. Think of it as a portable escape pod from the digital world, a bag filled with tactile activities that you can grab when the urge to scroll strikes or when you want to be intentional about how you spend your free time.
The beauty of an Analog Bag lies in its versatility and accessibility. I keep mine stocked with an array of items that appeal to different moods and energy levels. Inside, you will find multiple journals for different purposes, a collection of pens, colored pencils, and markers for both writing and coloring, several adult coloring books and a crossword puzzle book, the book I am currently reading, a deck of cards, and even some stationery for writing letters. The key is variety. When you reach for your Analog Bag instead of your phone, you want options that will genuinely engage you rather than leaving you feeling restricted or bored.
What makes the Analog Bag particularly effective is how it functions both at home and on the go. At home, I carry it from room to room, bringing it to the couch in the evening, to my reading nook on lazy afternoons, or even to the table in the extra bedroom when I want to work on a creative project while something simmers on the stove. This mobility means my analog activities are always within reach, making it just as easy to grab my journal as it would be to grab my phone. When I leave the house, whether for a coffee shop visit, a doctor’s appointment, or traveling, my Analog Bag comes with me. Instead of defaulting to my phone during waiting periods or downtime, I have engaging alternatives that actually leave me feeling refreshed rather than drained.
The Analog Bag concept taps into something deeply human, our need for hands on creation and engagement. There is something satisfying about the physical act of coloring within lines, solving a puzzle with a pencil, shuffling cards, or seeing stitches accumulate in a small hand sewing project. These activities engage our hands and minds in ways that scrolling never can. They provide a sense of accomplishment, however small, and they create something tangible: a completed puzzle, a colored page, a few written thoughts, progress on a craft project. In a world where so much of what we do is ephemeral and digital, the Analog Bag offers us a return to activities that feel real, concrete, and genuinely ours.
The Magic That Emerges in Analog Spaces
There is a particular kind of magic that emerges when we slow down and engage with the physical world. It is the magic of noticing, of being fully present to the details we miss when we are perpetually distracted. When you walk without headphones, you hear birdsong, distant conversations, the sound of wind through trees. When you cook without simultaneously scrolling through your phone, you notice the colors of vegetables, the textures of ingredients, the way scents develop and combine. This heightened awareness reconnects us with the sensory richness of being alive in a body, in a specific place, in this particular moment.
Analog experiences also create space for serendipity and unexpected connections. When you browse a bookstore or library, pulling books off shelves based on intuition rather than algorithm, you discover things you would never have found through a targeted online search. When you have a conversation without phones present, you make eye contact, read body language, and create a quality of connection that is impossible to replicate digitally. These moments of genuine human connection nourish us in ways we do not always recognize until they are missing. They remind us that we are not isolated individuals consuming content but interconnected beings craving authentic relationships.
For those of us drawn to magical and spiritual practices, analog living offers something even more profound. It creates the conditions for what I call everyday enchantment, the ability to perceive the sacred in ordinary moments. When we are constantly distracted by screens, we miss the magic happening all around us. We miss the way light changes throughout the day, the patterns in nature, the synchronicities that speak to something larger than ourselves. Analog living slows us down enough to notice these things, to be present to the whispers of intuition and the subtle energies that surround us. It allows us to reclaim our relationship with the natural world, the cycles of seasons, and the rhythms that governed human life for millennia before we became tethered to devices.
Practical Steps for Embracing Slower Living
If you feel called to embrace more analog living in 2026, start small and be realistic about what you can sustain. Begin by identifying one area of your life where digital dependency feels most draining. For many people, this is the morning scroll or the evening disappearance into social media. Choose one time of day to be completely screen free, even if it is just thirty minutes. Use this time for an analog activity that brings you joy, whether that is drawing, journaling, reading, knitting, gardening, or simply sitting with a cup of tea and your own thoughts.
Create physical reminders to support your intention. Place a basket by your bedroom door where you put your phone before entering, making your bedroom a screen free sanctuary. Put a physical book on your nightstand instead of leaving your phone there. Leave sticky notes in strategic places reminding yourself to pause before reaching for your device. These small environmental changes make it easier to choose analog options when your muscle memory reaches for the phone. You might also consider using analog tools to replace some digital ones. Try a physical planner instead of a digital calendar, a watch instead of checking your phone for the time, or an alarm clock instead of your phone alarm.
Find accountability and community in this journey. Share your intentions with friends or family who might want to join you. Create phone free times when you gather with others, whether for meals, game nights, or conversation. You might even start an analog living challenge group where members share their experiences and support one another. Remember that this is not about judgment or perfection but about experimenting with what feels good and sustainable for you. Some days will be more successful than others, and that is perfectly okay. The practice is not about completely eliminating digital tools but about consciously choosing when and how we engage with them, creating more space for the analog experiences that nourish us.
Reclaiming Time for What Matters Most
The decision to embrace analog living in 2026 is ultimately a decision about what I want my life to be about. When I am at the end of my life, I will not remember hours spent scrolling social media or the emails I answered immediately. I will remember conversations that went deep, books that changed how I see the world, quiet moments of presence, and the feeling of being fully alive in my own experience. Analog living is my way of investing in those moments now, of creating a life that feels rich and meaningful rather than frantically busy.
This shift requires courage because it means going against the grain of a culture that celebrates constant productivity and digital connection. It means accepting that I will miss some things, that I will not always be immediately available, that I might not see every piece of content or respond to every message right away. It means trusting that what I gain in presence, depth, and well being is worth more than what I might miss. It means believing that my life is not happening on a screen but in the physical world, in my relationships, in the small daily practices that create meaning.
I invite you to consider what analog living might look like in your own life. What would you do with an extra hour if you were not on your phone? What experiences are you missing because your attention is always divided? What kind of magic might emerge if you created more space for slowness and presence? These are questions worth exploring as we move into 2026, questions that might lead us toward lives that feel less hurried and more intentional, less distracted and more awake.
The analog life is not about perfection or completely unplugging from the digital world. It is about balance, boundaries, and making conscious choices about how we spend our precious time and attention. It is about remembering that before screens, humans read by candlelight, wrote letters by hand, had long conversations, and found ways to be creative and connected without constant digital stimulation. That possibility still exists for us. We just have to choose it, again and again, one analog moment at a time.
Ready to explore more intentional living? Browse through more posts on Nevermore Lane where earth magic meets a treasured life, or grab your favorite mug and join me for coffee as we navigate this journey toward slower, more magical living together. I would love to hear about your own experiments with analog living in the comments below.
Like what you read? Drop me a line – let’s chat over virtual coffee.
~ Chrystal
