As Lent drew to a close and Easter approached, I found myself on a bus in Cologne, struck by a scene both familiar and strangely new. Every head was bowed—not in prayer or reflection, but in silent devotion to a glowing screen. Not a single person looked out the window to catch the city’s pulse, the changing light, or another’s gaze.
It brought back vivid memories of my student days in early 2000s Athens, riding the bus from home to university. Back then, people gazed outside, lost in thought or sharing a glance, present with the world around them.
Today, fasting is often reduced to abstaining from certain foods. But perhaps that’s the simpler part now. Our real temptations are digital: endless scrolling, constant notifications, and the subtle erosion of our attention.
I say this not to demonise digitalisation—it has brought us so much good. We connect across continents, share knowledge in seconds, and access incredible tools to learn and grow. But still, I sometimes feel a quiet sadness. What is all this doing to our brains, our nervous systems, our relationships with one another
Digital fasting—taking a purposeful break from screens—can help us remember what it feels like to be without them. Just as we fast before Easter to reset and reflect, we might choose to spend an hour, or even a day, screen-free. Not as rejection, but as reminder. A way to capture the feeling of presence again—before returning to our devices with greater awareness and balance.
Inspired by that bus ride, I’ve decided to challenge myself to a digital fast after Easter—a chance to reclaim presence, curiosity, and real connection.
I invite you to set your own mindful challenge. It doesn’t have to be a digital fast (though even a day offline can be eye-opening). You might try:
What would your personal fast look like?
What small act could help you reconnect with yourself and the world outside your screen?
I’m starting with screen-free Sundays spent with friends and family. Wish me luck.