Finding Real-World Magic Without Giving Up Wi-Fi

Let’s get something out of the way: I love technology. I am, without apology, a chaos goblin of the Internet. I’ve lost entire days to coding spirals and neon-lit group chats where memes outnumber meaningful sentences 10 to 1. Tech gave me freedom. It gave me community. It gave me worlds when the real one kept slamming the door in my face.

But it also gave me something a little less punk: A body that forgot what it feels like to move without clutching a screen. A brain that confuses scrolling with living. A spirit that sometimes feels pixelated around the edges.

So now, I’m trying something different. Something dirtier. Something a little feral: Touching grass. Not metaphorically. Not for my socials. Actually going outside and letting my stupid human body do stupid human things like digging holes, falling off bikes, and baking bread that sucks and could double as a lethal weapon.

It’s not about quitting tech. It’s about refusing to let it be the only thing and living my own Slow Media Manifesto.

Here’s how I’m bumbling my way through balancing tech obsession with dirtbag traditions:

1. Rage Against the Machine (Sometimes Literally)

Turning off my phone for a few hours to garden or hack together some lumpy air dry clay isn’t just self-care—it’s punk rebellion. It’s saying, “No thanks, infinite scroll. I choose dirt.”

And yeah, I’ll probably post about it later. But the point is: not everything needs to be content in real-time. Let it exist first. Let you exist first.

2. Technology Is My Tool, Not My Leash

Let’s be real: living totally tech-free is a flex most of us can’t afford (also, how would I keep up with hot duck memes?). Instead, I’m reframing my tech use.

My phone is no longer my lifeline. It’s just another tool, like a hammer, or a weirdly judgmental pocket librarian.

I use it to:

• Document my garden fails.
• Time my messy fermentation experiments.
• Find real teachers for old skills—people who actually live this stuff, not just hashtag it.

And then? I put it the fuck down. On a table. In another room. Far away from my soft, easily distracted hands.

3. Learning to Be Bored Without Dying

Boredom used to terrify me. Nothing to click? Nothing to scroll? HELP.

But boredom is where actual life leaks in. It’s how I rediscovered that I love drawing awful comics. It’s how I learned I’m really good at punching tin cans into lanterns that look like medieval disco balls.” (Apocalypse crafting, baby.)

Turns out, my best ideas were waiting on the other side of my screen addiction.

4. Respect the Traditions You Touch

This part is crucial. “Traditional living” isn’t an aesthetic you pin to your vibe board. It’s made up of histories, cultures, and communities that deserve respect—not Pinterest cosplay.

When I learn about Indigenous planting techniques, ancestral sewing methods, or herbal medicine, I:

• Pay my teachers.
• Cite my sources.
• Remember that learning is a responsibility, not a right.

Touching grass also means touching history. With clean hands, and an even cleaner conscience.

5. Rebuilding a Body That Can Carry My Brain

Technology worship made me forget I have a body. Balancing tech with dirtbag traditions means rebuilding a body that can carry my brilliant, glitchy brain through the world.

It’s walking somewhere just because it’s sunny. It’s carrying my groceries instead of ordering them. It’s mending my clothes instead of doomscrolling for fast fashion sales.

It’s living with the weird, unoptimized realness of having a body that sweats, stinks, struggles—and grows. And learning how to take care of it.

Final Boss Battle: Touching Grass Without Losing Myself

I’m not rejecting technology. I’ll still code and I’ll still cry at TikTok videos about baby goats in sweaters.

But touching grass—literally and figuratively—reminds me that I am not just a user, a consumer, or a screen name. I am a living creature. A flawed, fleshy, ridiculously stubborn little goblin with dirt under my nails and hope between my teeth. 

And that’s really what I’m building here with She Zine Mag — not just a magazine, but a living archive of messy, handmade, sometimes-beautiful, sometimes-feral practice. I’ll be documenting this process as it unfolds: the wins, the weirdness, the craft fails, and the small rebellions. It’s an experiment in showing up as we are and making something from it. If you see yourself anywhere in this, I want you to come along for the ride, add your scraps to the pile, and help me shape a space where we all get to make and unmake ourselves in public.

When the servers crash someday (and they will), I’ll still know how to grow onions, bake ugly bread, carve sad little bears out of soap—and build a life worth living offline.

And honestly? That’s the real punk flex.

Have you already got your own practice touching grass?? Is it a solo practice or do you unplug with friends? Share your tips in the comments below.

→ Subscribe to The Edit
→ Submit Your Work
→ Follow @shezinemagazine