The Exist Project: Connection, Technology, and Learning How to Be Present Again

A reflection on technology, distraction, vulnerability, and a social experiment exploring what happens when people simply exist together without digital interruption.

Years ago, I noticed something shifting around me after getting married and becoming a father.

Everywhere I looked, people — myself included — seemed increasingly consumed by electronic devices. Conversations became interrupted by phones. Eye contact became less common. People appeared physically present while emotionally somewhere else entirely.

It made me wonder:
What would happen if people were simply given space to exist together without distraction?

Would people feel uncomfortable?
Would they connect?
Would anyone even care?

That question eventually became the foundation for an experimental project I called The Exist Project.

Creating the Experiment

The idea itself was simple: place strangers together in a room with no phones, distractions, entertainment, or expectations beyond simply coexisting and interacting with one another.

I wasn’t interested in promoting myself, my practice, or creating something commercially driven. The project was always about the experience itself.

I reached out to my friend Lori, who had experience working on film sets and in art design. Fortunately, she immediately embraced the concept.

We rented an empty loft on the west side of Chicago and began organizing the project.

One of the early conversations centered around casting participants. Lori suggested using a casting agent because gathering participants ourselves would be far more difficult.

The bigger question became:
Who exactly was “right” for this kind of experience?

Ultimately, we intentionally selected people who were very different from one another in age, race, personality, background, and life experience. Some were outgoing, others shy. Some seemed confident, others anxious or self-conscious.

The diversity of personalities became part of the point.

Anxiety Around the Unknown

Before the project even began, participants started asking nervous questions.

Some worried they would be asked to do something uncomfortable. Others jokingly asked whether they were about to be murdered. Underneath the humor, though, there was very real anxiety about walking into an unfamiliar experience with strangers.

Honestly, I understood those fears completely.

The questions underneath their concerns felt deeply human:
Will I be safe?
Will I be judged?
Will I belong?
Will I embarrass myself?
What is expected of me?

At the same time, I noticed my own anxiety surfacing too. I worried something would go wrong, either during the project itself or afterward. Most of those fears, unsurprisingly, never materialized.

Watching Human Connection Unfold

Each group interaction unfolded differently.

Some groups sat in awkward silence before slowly opening up. Others connected almost immediately. Some conversations remained surface-level while others unexpectedly drifted into discussions about mental health, politics, relationships, art, identity, and personal struggle.

What fascinated me most was watching complete strangers gradually lower their guard once the pressure to perform socially disappeared.

People adapted.
They connected.
They became curious about one another.

Even the discomfort itself became meaningful.

Months later, Lori and I met again with many of the participants. Several described the experience as emotional, eye-opening, and unexpectedly meaningful. Many reflected on how unusual it felt to spend uninterrupted time with strangers without phones, distractions, or the constant pressure of digital stimulation.

Learning to Exist Again

After the final meeting, I walked back to my car, turned on some music, and instinctively reached for my phone to check messages.

Then I paused.

Instead of checking it, I turned my phone off entirely before driving away.

It wasn’t some massive life-changing moment. But it felt like a small victory.

A reminder that meaningful connection, intimacy, creativity, and presence often begin by unplugging long enough to notice the world and the people around us again.

I started thinking about my son, the future, and the kind of world he will eventually inherit. Maybe part of this project was ultimately for him — an attempt to contribute something thoughtful, hopeful, and human rather than simply adding more criticism or noise into the world.

What the world needs more of are ideas that encourage connection.

Because every meaningful relationship, movement, community, or healing experience usually begins the same way:
with a conversation.

Ready to start the conversation?

Connect with our team to learn more about therapy, relationships, and emotional connection at VMA Psychotherapy.