Autumn Without Numbers: When Technology Falls Silent

In a world that constantly counts steps, heartbeats, and calories – perhaps the greatest luxury is to measure nothing at all.

Autumn, as every year, began in a rush. Conferences, forums, panels, events – it’s as if everyone is trying to make up for the summer. Phones are ringing again, inboxes are filling up, calendars are turning into chessboards. The world is back in motion. And me – not so much. In a world that keeps speeding up, this month I’ve slowed down. Completely unplanned. In fact, not even by my own choice – it was, once again, a higher force. Please don’t laugh at what comes next.

My smartwatch broke – my little digital overseer that had been measuring everything for years: steps, pulse, sleep, stress, cycle, even mood. For the first few days, I felt like someone had taken away my compass. No numbers, no graphs, no notifications, no messages, no calls. Just – silence. My phone still mostly sits aside, which means some messages and calls are answered with delay. And honestly, that’s perfectly fine with me.

I realized that just as I don’t want to be constantly available to others, I also don’t want to impose my own pace and rhythm on them. That’s why I even added it to my email signature – that we all have our own rhythm, that I send messages in mine, and that it doesn’t obligate anyone to respond immediately. They can reply when it suits them.

Then something unexpected happened. I started listening to my inner clock. My body began telling me when I was tired, hungry, or rested. The sun told me what time it was. Nature gave me rhythm again.

Okay, I still sometimes ask my husband what time it is or glance at my phone, but far less often than before. And you know what? I’m alive. Without that invisible pressure that pushes us to constantly measure, track, and compare.

In a world that keeps counting, health has become the new currency. Steps, calories, heartbeats. Even sleep is under analysis… “You slept six hours and thirty-two minutes, but your sleep quality was low,” says the app, as if it knows more than I do. Yet I wake up fresh, calm, and grateful. And I wonder – who’s right here, the watch or me?

And just when I thought I had it all figured out – I got sick. Unexpectedly, quietly, the way it often happens when you think you finally have everything under control. The body simply said: enough. Sudden temperature changes, too many obligations, too many thoughts I didn’t release in time – they all slowly drew the path to bed. I hadn’t planned extra days of rest, but the universe slipped them into my schedule – in the form of a virus.

Illness always reminds you, quite directly, when it’s time to stop. It doesn’t ask, doesn’t negotiate – it just lays you down. Nothing serious, but enough to remind me that I’m not a machine, but a body – living, sensitive, vulnerable, and wise. I hadn’t been ill for a long time, so I recognized the signs immediately. Even more so my husband, who took on the role of a caring guardian, as if it were something far more serious.

One moment stayed with me. I was lying there, without appetite, exhausted, half awake, half in some dream world, and he asked: “What would you like to eat?” Without thinking, I blurted out: “Roast lamb on a spit.” Of course, he didn’t have any. He just smiled with that look that says “no chance, but nice try,” and brought me a bowl of soup. Decent substitute. Well, not really. But the universe must have heard me.

A few days later, as I was slowly recovering, a message arrived from a friend: “This weekend – gathering, and roast lamb on the spit.” I laughed out loud at that little game of synchronicity. As if the universe winked at me and said: “See? I hear you, just sometimes with a small delay.” It reminded me of those moments when you casually mention that you need winter tires, and a minute later an ad pops up – “winter tires, 20% off.” A little joke, but it always feels deeper to me.

Because I believe nothing happens by chance. So be careful what you ask for – consciously, out loud, but even more so what you wish for unconsciously. Because maybe, right at that moment, the universe is already working on how to bring it to you.

And finally – I can’t help but reflect on this month, dedicated to raising awareness about health, both women’s and mental. While everywhere people talk about prevention, checkups, and the importance of self-care, I think about what happens in between. When each of us, in our own way, fights small, quiet battles. Health, I’ve realized, isn’t a state – it’s a relationship. A relationship with yourself, with your body, with nature, and with silence.

In the end, the universe gave me the lamb – and with it, proof that it hears even our quiet, half-conscious wishes. It might not happen right away, but it comes. It always comes. Only when we, too, learn to stop – not just to hear ourselves, but to turn toward ourselves. To slow down enough to recognize what we truly need, to be gentler with ourselves, to heal from within. To reconnect with nature, with breath, with that quiet part of us that already knows. Because right there, in that connection – true health begins.