Why do I reach for my phone? What am I hoping to feel? What am I looking for? Do I even know? What is this impulse if not an addiction? Is it a cry for help? A shout into the void? Is it loneliness?
I’m sitting on my couch. Titan is snoring. The humidifier I just cleaned is background noise. The sky is white with snow that’s evaporating in the clouds - for now. Leaves on the holly bush right outside the window are fluttering. My left ankle is sore, an old injury warning me of a change in the weather. Nature and my body communicating. Isn’t it fascinating?
A vulture just flew through my line of sight, soaring on the breeze. What would it be like to fly? The landscape is bright white with a blanket of snow, two weeks old. It’s beautiful and deceptive. The thick icy crust breaks like ceramic tiles underfoot, or you slide on top, surprised it holds your weight - or worse, sometimes one foot breaks through the surface while the other slides on top. A delicate, treacherous dance.
A book awaits my attention. My coffee, creamy with coconut milk, is cooling off beside me. I’m writing this rather than scrolling on my phone. I’ll get the news and catch up later. Today’s my day off from monitoring the world. I wish we could all take a Break. (Not sure why break wanted to be capitalized, but so be it.) I pray for all those who can’t relax.
I saw a vision in my coffee cup yesterday.
I see a man I can’t get off my mind. He conjures so many questions. What’s next? What now? How did we let this happen? I wish I could see the innocent cartoon character a friend saw.
I sat here to read and chill before continuing my chore list. I grabbed my phone. Then, I stopped myself. I don’t need to know if the neighbor kids have an early release. I see one of their parents waiting in their truck at the end of their driveway. I’m curious and want to check the school district website. It’s a trick! I’ll cruise though the web and emails and then land on Instagram, scrolling and scrolling as I watch our Constitution get trampled and lives get ruined amidst sprinkles of normal happy posts about beauty and cute kids and pets but the anger and fear and rage seeps through. It’s cruelty all the way down. Or so it seems when I doomscroll.
I’m grateful I found my way back to the page today. I’ve been away too long. Feels like I’ve been treading water in a swamp of outrage and grief. I believed the voice that told me I couldn’t write with all the bad stuff going on.
It’s privilege that allows me to stop and ask - how do I keep writing in the midst of this world that’s in a slow motion collapse every day? We go along and so much anguish becomes routine like it’s normal for heavily armed men to drag folks from cars and pin them on the ground. How can this feel normal? I rebel while my brain settles into a comfortable space because it has to adapt to survive, and it feels steady and okay when there’s a lull in the horrible and then BANG! and I’m on my phone again, caught in the net by the web. Scrolling and reading and crying and asking why and whispering what the fuck. It’s not a question anymore. What the fuck is a statement, a mantra.
I should take Titan for a walk. Fresh air will be good for me. Be safe out there. Bye for now.
(I snapped this photo during my walk. You can’t see it, but it’s snowing.)
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