We’re living in precious and precarious times. Turning toward the fall, I wonder how much I can let go of to make space for what matters most.
Like a leaf turning, fading and falling away, creating room for what’s to come, I think there are old leaves hanging around that I need to let drop. It might mean I look barren, exposed, when in reality, I’m doing what I was created to do.
One of the leaves that has turned on all of us is social media. While one could argue it’s only a mouthpiece of humanity that we’re self-directing, the companies themselves are funded and fueled to promote the hot takes and angry algorithms. Social media cares nothing about seasons, the natural order of things, the sacred rhythms of the moon or the liturgical calendar. It is an unnatural tool literally rewiring our brains.
This comes at a human cost. Many of us, including myself, have felt it’s intoxication and some of us are addicted. The doomscroll, the incessant information gathering, the laughter from funny memes that could be spent on actual fun with a real human, are depleting us and our relationships.
My friend just died. She wasn’t my bestie. She was a sister of sorts, one who gave herself fully away to all the things she was “supposed” to and then cancer ate her from the inside out. It was gruesome and ugly, and she left behind her beloved husband and four kids.
She was the esteemed ideal many ascribe to the roles of “wife” and “mother.” Now, it’s just over. Nine months of fighting, and she’s gone. Staci doesn’t get to drop her kids off at college, watch them marry or hold grandbabies. She doesn’t get to grow old with the man she gave her whole heart to. She doesn’t get to bake bread and workout and pay bills, grocery shop or sing in the car because she likes the way her smooth harmony sounds against the angst of a rockstar.
And here I am, binging horrible news like information could bring wisdom or wasting time on opinions served at a souped-up tempo as if they wage peace. I’m worried about the world’s existential questions and also bills. I contort and waste precious energy on what people might think of me when I make a post. My values become muddied, and my eyes dim the more media I consume.
Staci’s death has reorganized my perspective. I doubt that if she were to come back to us, she’d want to spend her time “faux living” via social media. I think she would want to soak, swim, work and play with the real-life humans she loved and adored.
I get teary wondering how much beauty we’re missing and connection we’re forfeiting. If we stopped the scroll and picked up our real lives, can you imagine what we would be able to create with our own hands? How much progress could we actually make if we refrained from offering our opinions to the masses and shared meals and ideas with real-life humans instead?
There’s so much living left to do and magic still to be spun up all around us. There are prayers to be prayed rather than posted. There are friendships to be made and feasts to be had.
In a world convincing us we need to be relevant, ready and responsive at every turning moment, maybe we opt for aware, awkward and alive? I know it’s risky, but putting down the phone will actually lead us to open pastures, wide desert skies and oceans of goodness if we’ll give it a chance.
Love is all around us, waiting to be lived.
