The Night I Was Forced to Touch Grass (At a Heavy Metal Show)
Something magical happens when the house lights drop and the world outside simply... vanishes.
I felt this most intensely during Ghost’s Skeletour. If you aren’t familiar, they don’t do "concerts"; they do Rituals. And they have one non-negotiable rule: No phones.
You tuck your device into a locked Yondr pouch at the door, and for two hours, you belong to the room, the band, the music, and the actual humans standing next to you.
The Digital Withdrawal is Real
At first, I’ll admit, I desperately wanted to capture the perfect, crisp shot of Papa V to prove I was there. Because let’s be honest—if it isn't on the Grid, did it even happen? (A question that currently keeps tech CEOs up at night, surely).
But once that phantom pocket-vibration anxiety died down, something better took its place.
Without a sea of glowing rectangles blocking my view, I actually saw the people. I made eye contact. I swapped stories in the merch line. I wasn't a "user" scrolling through life anymore; I was a witness to it.
The Ultimate Lesson: If you didn’t film it, it still happened. It might even have happened more.
From the London Underground to a Slower State of Mind
Now, I didn’t just wake up one morning, throw my phone into a lake, and decide to build a slow-living club. My husband, Barry—who blessedly possesses the rare superpower of sleeping through literally anything, including the digital apocalypse—can attest that my transition to a slower state of mind was a process.
It took ten years of living in London, navigating the frantic, packed Underground and the eternal gray drizzle, combined with traveling around Europe, to realize that hustle culture is a massive lie. It's a casino where the house always wins, and the currency is your attention span.
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London taught me how to "slow down" by sheer necessity (usually while waiting for a delayed District Line train).
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Europe taught me the radical act of enjoying a coffee and pastry while actually sitting down, instead of treating a macchiato like rocket fuel for my next meeting.
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The Ghost Ritual reminded me why it all matters.
When you remove the digital noise, you don't lose the memory. You finally have the space to make a real one.
Why I Created "The Sunday Reset Club"
The Sunday Reset Club isn't an invitation to opt-out of modern life; it’s a reclamation of it. Think of it as your personal, curated Yondr pouch for the digital age.
I created this because I deeply missed that analog depth, but I knew we needed a solution that meets us exactly where we are—rite here, rite now (shamless Ghost reference), behind the glass.
I realized that if I could feel that profoundly connected in a dark arena surrounded by thousands of strangers, we could build an online space that replicates that same focus. A corner of the internet where you can log in, take a breath, and intentionally lower the background noise of your life.
This is for anyone who wants to live more and scroll less. We’re carving out an intentional oasis amidst the online chaos. We’re taking the practical lessons from Europe, the London Underground, and a heavy metal band, and we're building a habit of presence over constant racing.
What to Expect Inside the Club:
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A Low-Noise Space: No algorithms, no infinite scrolls, and zero performative pressure. Just a calm, straightforward space to reset your brain.
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Nervous System Management: Practical prompts and 1-page guides designed to help you reclaim your attention span from a tech culture that profits off your distraction.
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A Realistic Community: An honest space for deep-dive discussions with people who choose the deliberate over the distracted. (And yes, there will be frequent, passionate chat about cats and coffee. Obviously. My cat practically co-authored the first guide).