Stepping Into the Past: My Week as a Medieval Knight

What if you woke up tomorrow not to the blare of an alarm, but to the clang of a blacksmith’s hammer and the scent of woodsmoke on the air? What if your biggest worry wasn’t a crowded inbox, but whether your armor would hold in a training bout? For one week, I traded my laptop for a longsword, my coffee for watered ale, and my modern anxieties for a set of surprisingly profound medieval challenges. This is what happened when I decided to live, as authentically as possible, the life of a knight.

The Call to Arms: Why Embark on This Quest?

We live in a world of constant stimulation and digital distraction. Our battles are fought with emails and social media posts, our loyalties often divided between a dozen different commitments. The idea of the knight—bound by a clear code of honor, dedicated to a tangible cause, and living a life of physical and mental discipline—holds a powerful, almost mythical appeal. It’s a fantasy of simplicity and purpose.

This challenge wasn’t about LARPing or historical reenactment in the traditional sense. It was a thought experiment in embodied cognition: could acting like a knight for a week change the way I thought? Could adopting a code of chivalry alter my behavior and my outlook on modern life?

I set some ground rules:

• The Code is Law: I would adhere to a simplified version of the Knight’s Code of Chivalry (more on that later).
• Analog Only: No smartphone for entertainment or distraction. Communication was allowed for work and family, but scrolling was out.
• Embrace the Physical: Daily physical training—sword drills (with a wooden waster), weight training imagined as preparing for armor, and long walks.
• Mindful Consumption: Meals were simple, hearty, and mindful. No eating at my desk.

Day 1-2: The Squire’s Struggle

The first two days were, in a word, awkward. Waking up without checking my phone left me with a palpable sense of anxiety. That immediate hit of information was gone. My morning workout felt silly; swinging a stick in the backyard drew curious looks from the neighbor’s dog. The hardest part was the mental shift. The code of chivalry I’d chosen to follow included tenets like:

• Live to serve King and Country.
• Respect the honor of women.
• Eschew unfairness, meanness, and deceit.
• Guard the honor of fellow knights.
• Perform scrupulously your feudal duties.

Translating these into a 21st-century context was the first challenge. “King and Country” became my community and local causes. “Feudal duties” became my professional and personal responsibilities, to be performed with greater care and without complaint.

I found myself holding doors open for longer. I listened more intently in conversations instead of formulating my response while the other person was still talking. I was more courteous in traffic. Small acts, but they required a conscious effort to break deeply ingrained modern habits of hurrying and self-absorption.

Day 3-4: Finding a Rhythm

By the third day, the silence started to feel less like a deprivation and more like a gift. The absence of digital noise made space for reflection. My “sword drills” became a moving meditation, a time to focus solely on form and breath. I started reading physical books in the evening by candlelight (okay, a LED candle for safety, but the effect was similar).

The code began to feel less like a set of rules and more like a framework for living. I found that “guarding the honor of fellow knights” meant actively championing my colleagues behind their backs, giving credit where it was due, and refusing to engage in office gossip. It was about building up the people around me.

A funny thing happened: people noticed. Not the “why are you swinging a stick” part, but the behavioral changes. I was told I seemed more present, more calm. A friend asked if I’d started meditating.

Day 5-7: The Knight’s Perspective

The final stretch of the week felt transformative. The affectations of the challenge—the wooden sword, the simple food—faded into the background. What remained was the mindset.

The most profound lesson was on focus. A knight’s primary tool is his sword, and it demands singular attention. This forced mindfulness bled into everything. I wrote more focused reports. I had deeper conversations. I even tasted my food more intensely. By removing the option to multitask and be distracted, I rediscovered the depth that comes from doing one thing at a time, and doing it well.

The second lesson was on service. Modern life often frames success as personal acquisition: a better job, a bigger house, a newer car. The chivalric ideal frames it as service and honor. Redirecting my perspective from “what can I get?” to “how can I serve?” was incredibly liberating. It alleviated the pressure of relentless ambition and replaced it with the quieter, more sustainable satisfaction of usefulness.

Your Quest Awaits: How to Embark on Your Own Knight’s Week

You don’t need a suit of armor to learn these lessons. Your challenge can be whatever you need it to be. Here’s how to start your own quest:

1. Define Your Code: Don’t just adopt mine. What values do you want to cultivate? Courage? Integrity? Compassion? Write down 5-7 tenets for your modern code.
2. Remove a Distraction: Choose one modern convenience to abstain from for the week. Social media, streaming services, or even your car. See what fills the void.
3. Embrace a Discipline: Commit to a daily physical or mental practice. It could be a long walk, learning a skill, or dedicated reading time. The key is consistency.
4. Serve Someone: Each day, perform one act of service with no expectation of reward. Help a neighbor, volunteer, or simply offer your full attention to someone who needs it.
5. Reflect: Keep a journal. At the end of each day, ask yourself: Where did I uphold my code? Where did I fail? What did I learn?

The End of the Quest, The Beginning of the Journey

Stepping back into my normal life at the end of the week, I didn’t abandon all the lessons. I kept my phone out of the bedroom. I try to be more deliberate in my commitments. The knight’s week wasn’t about rejecting modernity; it was about importing ancient wisdom into a modern context.

It reminded me that we are the authors of our own character. We can choose our values and, through conscious action, engrave them onto our daily lives. We can choose to be more brave, more honorable, more present.

So I pass the challenge to you. Your one-week quest awaits. What kind of knight will you choose to be?

Share your experiences in the comments below. What code did you follow? What was your greatest trial? What did you learn about yourself? Your stories are the next chapter in this ongoing tale.