When Did We All Imprint on Our Phones?

In the wild, imprinting is simple.
A chick cracks open its egg, sees the first thing that moves, and that’s mom. It doesn’t matter if it’s a duck, a goose, or your muddy boot. The bond forms instantly.

Imprinting, in its purest form — unless the first thing you see is a muddy boot.

And lately, I’ve been wondering if we’ve all started imprinting on our phones instead.

It didn’t start this way.
Once upon a time, babies were born at home. The first faces they saw were the same people they’d grow up with — tired, sweaty, joyful parents welcoming them into the chaos.

Then hospitals came along, and for a while dads were parked in the waiting room with a cigar and a newspaper, hoping for updates. Babies imprinted on whoever caught them.

By the 80s, that shifted.
Families realized it mattered to have dad in the room. Newborns were greeted by an actual circle of faces. A tribe. A unit. Real connection.

But now?

Now the first thing some babies see isn’t a human at all.
It’s an iPhone hovering over them like a glowing UFO.

You can almost picture the confusion:

“Are you my mother?”
“No, that’s Mama behind the screen, sweetie.”
“So the warm, humming rectangle is… who?”
“Oh, that’s your life partner now. You two will be inseparable.”

And honestly? That’s not far from the truth.

A toddler today can navigate a phone faster than some adults can unlock their bike lock. We’ve raised a population bonded to the Ping — the little electric jolt that tells them something, somewhere, somehow needs attention right now.

And this is one of the reasons we run programs like the Parent–Youth Adventure Weekend — a simple way to get families outside the digital haze and into real connection.
https://offgridark.com/parent-youth-adventure-camp

A World That Never Leaves You Alone

This came up last weekend during the Mantracker event.
After the race, a few of us were talking around the fire, and I mentioned that if someone emails me after 4pm on a Friday… I won’t see it until Monday morning.

You’d think I told them I churn butter by hand.

They looked shocked.
They explained that most people get instant notifications on their phones. One guy said he gets emails on his watch. His wrist vibrates every time someone fires off a thought.

No wonder people never feel alone.
They’re being followed around by a tiny digital babysitter.

The Hotel Story I Probably Shouldn’t Tell, But Here We Are

This whole “never alone” thing reminded me of something Monique and I joke about whenever we stay in a hotel.

We have to be careful in the mornings.

And not for any risqué reasons… well, okay, maybe partly for those reasons. But mostly because we never know when that polite little knock is coming:

“Housekeeping!”

There’s no warning.
No buffer.
Just a sudden jolt from calm to DEFCON 1.

But here’s the modern twist:

Even if housekeeping doesn’t interrupt — someone’s watch might.

Nothing kills a moment faster than a wrist buzzing with an urgent update from Costco reminding you it’s time to reorder something you don’t even remember buying.

Imagine trying to connect, relax, be present — and suddenly the watch lights up with, “Your package has shipped!”

It’s comical.
It’s ridiculous.
It’s very 2025.

We’ve built a world where even intimacy needs to compete with notifications.

Cutting the Cord

All of this is why I try to live differently.

Not off the grid from the world — just off the grid from the constant frequency of it.

I’ve learned that if I don’t cut the cord from Friday afternoon to Monday morning, I start vibrating at the same pace as my phone. My thoughts rush. My attention scatters. I stop feeling the forest around me and start responding to demands that don’t exist yet.

But when I step back?
When I go for a ride with Diaz, walk the trails, smell the woodsmoke, or hear nothing but the wind through the trees?

My frequency drops.
My shoulders loosen.
My brain remembers it’s allowed to idle.

Nature Turns the Volume Back Down

This is the part most people forget: our bodies are built for a lower frequency than the city asks of us.

Nature doesn’t ping.
It doesn’t vibrate.
It doesn’t ask for your immediate attention.

It waits.
It breathes.
It lets you settle.

And once you settle, everything else makes sense again.

This is why people leave The Off Grid Ark feeling lighter, calmer, and somehow more themselves. They didn’t “escape.” They recalibrated. They stepped away from the glowing rectangles long enough to remember how their nervous system is supposed to feel.

Somewhere between the imprint of a baby and the ping of a smartwatch, we forgot what being human actually feels like.

Nature reminds us.

The Off Grid Ark exists for this exact reason — to help people step out of the digital noise and remember how they’re meant to feel in nature. If you want to feel what a true frequency reset is like, our Cliffside Cabin is one of the most peaceful spots on the entire property — a place where the buzzing finally stops.
https://offgridark.com/outaouais-camp-rental