Setting up a new smartphone is both exciting and time-consuming. What starts as a simple setup often becomes hours of exploration as we discover and download countless apps, each with its purpose and promise.
Every app has its distinct icon—a visual gateway to a self-contained world of information.
Touch that small square, and suddenly, you can identify birds in your backyard, find the fastest route to your destination, or access discounts at your favorite stores.
As the saying goes, "There's an app for that," a testament to how digital solutions exist for virtually any need in our lives.
But what happens when we download an app that doesn't serve us? The solution is beautifully simple: we press and hold until everything wiggles, tap the little "x," and it's gone. There is no complicated process, no lingering presence—just a clean deletion.
When Memories Become Intrusions
During a recent morning meditation, something fascinating happened.
As I settled into stillness, various thoughts and memories drifted through my consciousness like clouds. Most passed by without disruption, but one memory—something unpleasant from a few days prior—refused to float away. It was bright, jarring, and persistent.
Instead of fighting this intrusion, I instinctively approached it as I would a digital interface.
I visualized the troubling memory as an app icon—a contained package of unwanted emotional data. In my mind's eye, I pressed this mental icon, and the scene unfolded in full detail.
Then, drawing on my smartphone experiences, I began to modify this mental app.
First, I dimmed it, reducing the vibrant colors to grayscale, muting the sounds, and dulling its emotional intensity.
Next, I imagined pressing and holding until it began to wiggle, just like on my phone's home screen.
Finally, I pushed it away from the center of my attention until it disappeared entirely—deleted from my active consciousness.
The Wisdom of Letting Go
Some might question whether deleting uncomfortable memories is wise.
Shouldn't we analyze them, extract lessons, and grow from them? This is a valid perspective, but there's an important distinction to make.
Painful memories—whether minor embarrassments or significant traumas—often don't serve as constructive teachers.
Instead, they become emotional loops that obscure our perception of what's good and possible in the present moment. We get trapped in these loops, replaying scenes that no longer exist, missing opportunities for joy and growth that surround us right now.
Yes, we can and should learn from our experiences. We all have those "I won't make that mistake again" moments.
But there's a difference between extracting a lesson and carrying the emotional burden indefinitely. The former empowers us; the latter depletes us.
Present in the Now
When we remain entangled in past hurts or future anxieties, we disconnect from the richness of the present.
As Mary Engelbreit wisely noted, "Worrying does not empty tomorrow of its troubles. It empties today of its strengths."
Digital mindfulness offers us a powerful metaphor. Just as we curate our devices—keeping what serves us and removing what doesn't—we can curate our mental space.
We can acknowledge thoughts that arise, decide which ones deserve our attention, and mindfully release those that drain our energy without adding value.
This isn't about toxic positivity or denying difficult realities.
It's about recognizing our capacity to choose where we focus our attention. It's about understanding that, in many ways, reality isn't linear but simultaneous—all possibilities exist in this present moment, waiting for our awareness.
A Practice for Mental Decluttering
The next time an unwanted thought or memory persists in your mind:
Visualize it as contained — See it as a distinct entity, like an app on your screen
Reduce its intensity — Imagine turning down its volume, brightness, and emotional charge
Create distance — Push it to the periphery of your awareness
Release it completely — Let it go with intention, making space for what serves you better
In doing so, you free yourself to experience life's goodness more fully—not because difficulties don't exist, but because you've chosen not to let them dominate your mental landscape.
In this digital age, perhaps our relationship with technology can teach us something profound about our relationship with our own minds—that both work better when we mindfully curate what we allow to take up space.
I have a book about this, how to “delete” habits. The Four Essential Questions.
Interesting idea to use the phone as a metaphor here to rid oneself of painful memories. I am working with photographs in a "bite-sized" storytelling process to bring forth the memories, not necessarily get rid of the memories. So, I am curious. Thanks for posting this.
That is a terrific exercise! I had someone guide me through this once relating to an old trauma and it really took the trauma from 100 to maybe a 10. It’s powerful!