How a moment of quiet reflection by yourself can improve your work and social life in the digital age.

In award-winning author Mr Michael Harris’s new book Solitude, he proposes a new way to deal with the incessant buzz of the digital age: voluntary isolation. Here, he dips into some of the perks of cutting oneself off.

A typical man now sleeps with his phone. And when he wakes, he doesn’t think, “What should I do today?” He thinks, “What did I miss?” Then, that typical man spends roughly 10 hours of his waking day looking at screens. Our devices have been ruthlessly designed to hijack the most elemental parts of our brains – those primate-level instincts for social grooming that kept us alive in the wild. What this means is that though we might not spend all our time in company, we’re seldom truly by ourselves, without stimulation, just existing. What’s a poor primate to do?

All is not lost. Just as we designed healthy food diets in a culture overflowing with the sugars and fats we were designed to hoard, we can now design healthy media diets to curtail the social gluttony of online life. In short, we can deliberately seek out disconnectedness and solitude. What do we get in return? A rich interior life. Here are its three major components.

We’re taught at school that collaboration leads to success. But that’s only half the story. New studies show that a daydreamer, standing off on his own and staring out the window, is activating his “default mode network” – an intense and heterogeneous series of brain functions that leads to eureka moments. The vast majority of breakthroughs don’t take place during conference calls or at corporate retreats. They take place when a person wanders off on his own and digests what he’s heard (far from the madding crowd). It’s worth noting that great creators – writers, artists, theoretical physicists – have always taken pride in their solitude. From Messrs Goethe to Einstein, creative folk maintain a daily routine of solo time. Anything from a sojourn in the park to a car ride in the country will do.

How do you know what you like? In a world where crowd-sourced opinions on Netflix and Amazon are constantly ushering us toward bestsellers – and away from the weirdo artifacts we might actually like better – it’s important to disconnect in order to preserve your identity and your taste. When an algorithm starts telling you Harry Potter colouring books are something “you may also enjoy”, that’s your cue to unplug.

It’s the erotic paradox: you cannot desire that which you already have. Real, powerful relationships always include some time apart. This is why writing a single love letter, instead of a stream of three hundred emoji-laced texts, is going to produce a far more profound connection. Consider the words of Demetrius, an ancient Athenian: “everyone writes a letter in the virtual image of his own soul.” (Nobody says that about Snapchat.) By taking the time to consider others from within our solitude, we connect more passionately. The ego drops away, affectations become pointless, and we realise connections that aren’t always possible when we’re desperate for an immediate response.

Solitude: In Pursuit Of A Singular Life In A Crowded World (Random House) by Mr Michael Harris is published 6 April