Introduction: I wrote the following piece shortly after the unholy denouement of the 2000 presidential election. Enduring toxic levels of media consumption was bad enough then; now that we're all being prepared for a 1984-esque state of perpetual war, well, it's hard to unplug for even a day for fear that the world will completely fall apart and you'll miss the blow by blow. That's how I feel, anyway. When I finally dared take a weekend off my media-watch, I found out the next day that the US had begun bombing Afghanistan! Eventually, I'll take a longer media fast, because I have discovered this practice to be essential for my psychological and spiritual well being--not to mention it being an unparalled force for unleashing creativity. And perhaps thereafter I will update this essay; until then I want to share it as widely as possible that it might be of service to others. Now more than ever we need all the healing and creativity we can get. I invite you to try this remedy on for size...

Normally, I keep my habit under control. I don't start using till after noon; I never pull all-nighters any more. And I don't touch the hard stuff at all, don't even own a TV. Nothing stronger than NPR for me, no sir. Except in the face of extraordinary circumstances, of course. Though I have strong ascetic tendencies, I'm still an American--an urban American in the 21st century where Information is King, Celebrity Gossip is the fifth basic food group, and woe unto ye who opt out of the media loop. For many of us, life without a steady IV drip of information risks some form of death- from losing an IT job to the public humiliation of missing the latest oblique reference to Survivor trivia. Worse still, we face the nightmare of being alone with self.

So I, too, operate under the lash of these fears, especially during Times of Crisis. And when a schoolyard massacre is unfolding, or the Senate is deciding to put a right-wing Christian fundamentalist in charge of everybody's civil liberties, or the Nasdaq is free-falling with all the speed and none of the grace of a skydiver, all bets are off. In these instances, I feel duty-bound to be an informed citizen and so give myself permission to consume as much media as my eyes, ears and brain can tolerate. And then some.

Naturally, the last Presidential election presented the opportunity-nay, demanded-that we indulge the ultimate in media gluttony. But within a couple of weeks of media saturation, my brain was topped off with information overload. I could feel it usurping valuable creative space in my head, "empty" space that the mind needs to roam around in, find new paths, true North. I experienced the very visceral sensation of my brain getting fuller and fatter, while my authentic thoughts were crowded out by the pontifications of pundits and analyses of academicians. I yearned to escape the clutches of NPR and Dan Rather . . . and Britney Spears while we're at it. And I knew exactly what I needed: a Media Fast.

I'd done this before, in conjunction with my spiritual practice: No newspapers, magazines, TV, radio, web-surfing, videos or films; even novels and music must be eschewed. For several weeks. If you're like most Americans, hooked on information and entertainment (and their evil spawn), this is a daunting prospect. It certainly was for me, as I embarked on my initial 25 day fast.

The first few days were disorienting and more than a little disturbing as I discovered just how much space in my head was consumed and circumscribed by external input, and what a profound effect all of it has on my mental and emotional states. In its absence, I was hurled into withdrawal. I became a prickly ball of anxious tension and raw nerve endings all screaming "feed me, we're starving!" But by the end of the first week I had settled into a new calm, had organically come to reframe my experience: whereas initially my apartment and car felt empty without all that noise, now everything felt spacious. And so it was again on my post-election Media Fast. Only this time I could hardly wait to begin.

Though I knew what to expect and was psychically prepared in a way I hadn't been for earlier fasts, still the transition was rough. I had, after all, been even more thoroughly steeped in media than usual. Dinner time is always the hardest for me, those one to two hours preparing my meal, eating it, and then cleaning up as I listen to All Things Considered, KPFA's Flashpoints, and for dessert Fresh Air. Without all that to keep me company, the kitchen feels so vast I can almost hear echoes of my knife chop chop chopping vegetables for the soup. But after a few days of edginess, I settle into a groove. And it's my groove, not Shania Twain's or Garrison Keillor's or Terry-Gross-first-the-news.

The most profound effect of the Media Fast is that it frees up space in my mind -- space that's long been colonized by Madison Avenue, Hollywood, Hearst, and the Corporation for Public Broadcasting. Four days into the fast, even the mental residue from those sources feel like so much irritating static--interference that comes between me and my unadulterated self or, if you will, between me and God. And without that racket I become a clear channel for intuitive wisdom, my artistic Muse, and the synchronistic lessons of Universal Mind.

Without fail, each Media Fast brings me trenchant new insights to leverage areas where I've been emotionally stuck, juicy ideas for essays and poems, glistening lines and metaphors you can chew on, and a palpable opening of my heart. I cry often and easily and not out of sadness. Without the constant barrage of media (which to some extent demands that we wall ourselves off emotionally), I am once again sensate, able to be touched by the small heroics of everyday life, able to feel awe at the color and texture of an unusual strand of seaweed. When I am in this state, life is no longer hardening me; instead she is having a gentling effect. The whole of life is more spacious, less hurried, when my energetic field is not cluttered with the grinding assault of mediated forces demanding my attention.

The Media Fast also supports my efforts to be fully present in each moment. Life in the new millennium is so fast paced, exacting and mercurial that practices such as multitasking are very seductive, offering, as they do, the illusion that we're making the most efficient use of our time. I now understand multitasking to be like listening to two radio stations at once: the signals are battling for-and dividing-my mind's attention. Similarly, if I am eating breakfast and reading the morning paper simultaneously, my omelet is not fully appreciated, nor my news completely digested.
During my most recent fast I had a small epiphany. I got into my car, keyed the ignition, and without thinking reached for the radio. I was instantly struck by the depth of my habituation. Ultimately, of course, I have no objection to turning on the radio or TV or VCR. My concern lies with the issue of volition: Am I doing this consciously or am I on auto-pilot? I believe that we are fully realized human beings only commensurate with our awareness in each moment, with our ability to make conscious choices.

And how conscious can we be barreling down the freeway, cell phone ringing, Rush Limbaugh screaming, coffee spilling, mind planning, brakes screeching . . .? How sane and grounded are our choices made from such a place? The Media Fast offers an opportunity to slow down, become quiet, and reflect. About five days into the fast I felt a deep sense of peace; my agitation having abated, I could rest into stillness. And regret that I couldn't stay there forever. But I am a product of the modern world and part of my life's work is to study it, and from its wreckage make art that I hope will leave the world enriched in some small measure.

By week's end, I had become protective as a mother bear of the sanctity of my impressionable psyche. Stray media incursions-- a television ad overheard, a boombox blast--felt like nothing short of a defilement of my sacred mind. I had begun a new essay, made major progress on long stalled poems and finished a painting. Perhaps most importantly, my heart opened so wide I wanted nothing more than to share with others the medicine of the Media Fast.

So, whether you're a blocked poet, a harried soccer Mom, or a software engineer, I invite you to give the Media Fast a chance to work its magic in your life. Creative types, prepare for the gifts of an unleashed Muse. Those of you who don't think of your selves as creative, be open to surprise.

And when we all conclude our fasts and come down off the mountain, maybe each of us will have something original to contribute.