making changes
This past month I found myself getting blurry. This always happens when I don’t take time for myself and as Mark Nepo says : slow down the train that is me.
So when we loaded our family up into the truck, our new camper on our back, I felt a sense of great relief. I could be still for hours and hours.
(Note: I am convinced that a camper might be an introvert’s greatest purchase. You can just drive away.)
Angel would ask what he could be doing every hour or so. We came up with ideas and I also suggested this to both him and myself - do absolutely nothing. (Six year olds don’t really care for this sort of advice.)
But I loved it. I hardly looked at my phone. I talked to Matt and Angel. I stared out the window. I daydreamed and mulled some things over. And at night when we pulled into our home for the night, I felt a deep peace I haven’t felt in a minute.
One thing I considered during this time was what I was doing automatically, on autopilot, without questioning whether it served me anymore. There were a few things on the list but I’d say the biggest one was this - Instagram. Facebook. Social Media.
I’ve fallen in line with the app. Oh, people don’t want to read anymore? Okay, I’ll learn how to make reels. I’ll post constantly because that’s the only way to grow my business and have eyeballs on what I do. I’ll open the app because my brain has been trained for that dopamine hit that has become wildly unsatisfying. I’ve become less creative and less verbose because it’s about the algorithm.
All I have to say to that is gross.
I don’t want to think about making a reel when I’m looking out the window. I don’t want to find out anything about anyone in my world on this app. I want to hear about it over coffee. I don’t want to think in captions. Ever.
So I’m switching it up. I’ve got journals full of words and ideas. I’ve got a yoga mat that would like to see more. And I’ll be on social media on occasion in a very limited way. Instead I’ll be sharing my writing, practices, musings, etc. here, in my newsletter, on a biweekly basis.
Here's to a summer of sipping tea under the Aspen trees. Filling notebooks. Filling my well.
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