It’s only been in the past year that I’ve regularly doubted what I write. More than once over these several months I have questioned the worth of my words – and then pulled my post. The scrubbed posts are political rants about injustice or hypocrisy or my disdain for the enablers of rising authoritarianism. It feels good to spew bile when being force fed so much toxic waste from the rancid remnants of the grand old party. But do I need to share it? After a bit of time and reflection I realize that my need was to rant, to get it out of my mind – but that does not mean you-out-there need to swallow yet another dose of toxin from me.
We started writing ahead because it gave us time to refine and edit. It gave us time to develop our ideas. We’ve found that there is a danger of writing a week in advance: the assault on our nation by our government is happening so fast that our reflections are yesterday’s news by the time that they are published.
Kerri listened to my latest struggle. I had written yet another rant and felt that this particular thought-vomit had merit. I wrestled with my desire to post it. She quietly brought me back to the ground. She acknowledged the darkness, both within me and in the world, and reminded me that my walk on this earth is a pilgrimage toward the light. She asked me to consider whether or not my words were better spent helping others in this time of darkness to also step toward the light. I dumped my post. I felt relieved.
I was thoroughly admonished by my “weekly statistics”. Of particular concern to the algorithm-police was the rapid decline in my amount of screen time. It’s way down. It’s true. I am spending less and less time hurtling down the social media causeway. I am finding that alternate reality mind-numbing and increasingly less healthy. After all, the point is to keep me hooked. I am aware of the constant wash of anger and anxiety, the designer drug called fear-of-missing-out.
Every time we hit the trail, every time I turn off my phone, I feel as if I slowly come back to my senses. I re-enter the world of actual importance. I re-enter the world of living breathing 3-D humans instead of the flat-Stanley world of screen-names tossing bombs or affirmation at each other. We pass real people on the trail. We feel their presence. We say, “Hello”.
We stopped in awe when the winter sun electrified the pine needles. Just for a moment we entered timeless space, the place beyond the noisy insanity and manufactured division. Awash in the warmth of winter light we knew – beyond all doubt – that all everything we needed was right there, waiting for us in the natural order of the real world.
read Kerri’s blogpost about PINE NEEDLES
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The Direction of Intention 