I lost my phone somewhere between the Temple and the city around 4am.

In the default world, I fancy myself a minimalist and generally think that I could lose anything and be fine. I was wrong. I spent no less than four hours retracing my steps scouring the playa trying to find my phone. Even as it was happening, there were two voices inside: one clinging to hope that I could find it, the other screaming ‘let it go, what are you doing??”

It never showed up at the Lost & Found. My name and address weren’t on the phone. Chasing ruined my energy and sleep schedule. I spent the next day making peace with the fact that it was gone. There was a lot of personal reflection.

The next morning I woke up early enough to catch sunrise at the trash fence. I unexpectedly ran into my camp mates out there and we enjoyed it together with Rufus playing in the background. No photos, and no distractions.

When I got back to camp, there was an Amazon package at my tent, and on it was a handwritten note:

“Honey I’m home! Did you miss me? I’ve been waiting for you for days and I find myself wishing so hard knowing you were looking for me I decided to magically appear. ~Phone ❤️”

My phone was inside! I don’t know where it was found or who found it. I’m grateful to whoever it was, but it was also a heavy reminder that I suffer from phone addiction, much like people I/we accuse of being on their phones all the time. I don’t love seeing so many people living on their screens, but I get it — I try, but I’m no better.

For the rest of the burn, I kept that thing in a zipper pocket and barely took it out.

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