On The Digital Hiatus
Last week, we pulled into our driveway after 45 days of dwelling in places where the black nights are thick with stars and the loudest thing you can hear is the wind, possibly the river, and your own heartbeat.
It was a profound break.
During that time, one of my former clients said, it’s so weird I don’t see your posts anymore.
“That’s because I’m not posting.”
Even when I had service, which was rare, I’d pick up my phone and think, ”Nah, I'd rather just be in this moment than promote it."
And something I didn’t know was broken just broke off.
🌗 Mainly the idea that if I’m not visible online, I’m irrelevant and my efforts will fail.
🌗 Or that I have to compete with others or I’ll fall behind.
🌗 Or the algorithm actually matters.
The ancient American West laughs at this thinking, but that story is a powerful driver for many of us who got in so deep we could no longer see the forest for the trees. That was me, and at times, when I did get service, I could feel the familiar pressure to hustle and keep up.
Keep up with whom? That’s the oldest trick in the book. The Joneses? Please.
2020 has been brutal on social media. It's literally the worst place to spend time. My advice is to go to the trees and wait, and don't take your phone because your brain doesn't want to be empty and still. It will demand you Google and you will succumb.
I went to the West tired, overwrought, and confused about how to engage our hair-trigger culture in a meaningful way, and I came out with a whole new plan.
Here are the basics:
I’m enough. My work is enough. My God provides. Marriage is hard AND worth it. Nature is non-negotiable. Diversity matters and my phone is a servant, not a master.
Of course, I love sharing words and images and art and tools, especially when they help or confront, and I’ll continue to do so, but the energy behind it feels new.
BTW - That's Reba and me at Blue Lake in Colorado's South San Juan Wilderness.