Lately, I’ve been trying to de-digitalize. See more art. Hear more live music. Read more books. Feed that spark in myself that connects me to the throb, the messiness of life.

Recently, hubby and I went to see the boychild’s guitar teacher give a small, classical guitar recital at Gore Place. It wowed me. Not only to think that this fabulous musician is teaching my son, but because watching him play made me think about the dedication musicians have to their craft — and how they are just so in the moment that the music literally seems to radiate from their bodies.

When our teacher, who is from Mexico City originally, arrived for the boychild’s lesson that week, I told him how much I enjoyed hearing him play.

“Thank you,” he replied, ever polite, adding, “It’s good for the soul.”

Too right, my man. Too right. Little did I tell him how hooked I feel, sometimes, to the screen. I mean, watch me now. Fingers tap-tap-tapping on the keyboard. Or that my latest late-night activity consists not of writing my memoirs or painting a woodland scene, but watching back-to-back episodes of Revenge on Netflix.

Oh, the horror.

Inspired by his words, however, I took the boychild to visit the Institute of Contemporary Art, my favorite museum in Boston. He loves making art, so I thought his six-year-old self would appreciate the surprising, sometimes silly, often provocative manifestations of contemporary art.

Here’s a sampling of the goodies we saw.

A cube made out of pins. Cool!

A floating sculpture by Josiah McElheny representing the universe’s magical make-up of planets, stars and black holes

An adorable painting in the Os Gemeos exhibit — Brazilian twins who mix street art with surrealism. In my mind, this painting is just plain cute!

Yes, I have officially outed myself as the Britney Spears of art critics. How cuuuuute!

But it’s not the critique of art that really counts, does it? It’s the experiencing of it. The process of standing or sitting in front of a piece of art, opening all the senses to its aesthetics, and ruminating on the artist’s intention. There’s something meditative about it all — a bit like the process of writing — but certainly different than interacting online. It’s sort of like an encounter with humanity and your best self. You know, the one that is capable of being real, and of creating, and of recognizing the struggle and sweat that goes into putting an authentic piece of yourself into the world and making something beautiful.

Do you ever feel the need to de-digitalize? What are some of the things you do to feed your soul?