Posts tagged technology
How to Winter

I’ve built my life around avoiding cold weather. I live in LA and spend lots of time in Mexico (ahhhh 85-90 degrees of sweet, sweet humid air).

But yesterday, I realized a shortcoming of this genius plan. Winter is the time for hibernation, just ask a bear. And like the Moon, every month, my body cycles through weeks of being more energized and social, then a week of being more sensitive and withdrawn. By running away from hibernation weather, I’m perpetuating the idea that I should be ON all the time. I’m not respecting my nature.

Regardless of the body we’re in, we all suffer from exhausting standards of productivity and perfection. Thankfully, for some of us, those standards shift during “the holidays,” this mysterious period of time in November and December, sometimes creeping into the border months of October and January, where we get some grace to take time off, be less responsive and “be with family.” 

Do we really do that though? Do we really allow ourselves to rest, set boundaries with technology and spend quality time with loved ones? Or do we get a pumpkin spice latte and a tree-scented candle and continue right on being stressed and preoccupied with what’s going on in the world?

How do we actually Winter?

I think in our heart of hearts, we all just want to be cozy and safe. To get to that part of the day when we can just sit on the couch and watch TV, or be in bed snuggling up. WHO DOESN’T WANT THAT?! To let go the day, not think about what we have to do tomorrow, and just BE.

The problem is, all day long, all year long, we’re training ourselves to be…not snuggly. To be immediately responsive to every notification. To chase down every fear and worry that surfaces and get up to fix it. We stay in a state of alertness and tension, anticipating what’s next, ready to be interrupted. Then we finally get to the couch or the bed we spent all day craving and it’s IMPOSSIBLE to shut off those processes.

Do I have answers? I sure have a lot of questions. I sure feel overwhelmed when it all comes down on me and I don’t have it together. I sure feel tired and frustrated and sad when I feel far away from how I want to be.

Here’s what helps me. I don’t have social media. I don’t watch the news. I unsubscribe from things that take more energy and value than they give. When I get a text or email, I ask myself if I have the space to read it and respond before I open it. (I notice that I’m better at this when I’m not tired.) If a thought pops into my brain and it seems urgent, I take a moment to separate the thing and the sense of urgency. Is this thing really urgent, or is it tapping into my fear? (It’s pretty much always the fear one.) 

Basically, I limit the input, and I slow down. This gives me more space to feel. And then I feel safer, because the whole world doesn’t seem like a raging dumpster fire that I have to put out. It feels a little more like being snuggled up on the couch. 

Real

My dad is 84.

He was born in 1939.

He told me on the phone today,

“AI

is the next big thing!”

You should get in on the ground floor.

Think of all the people you could reach, 

people in need,

lacking self-esteem.

They all have phones.

I am clinging to my iPhone 8 

and my 2017 MacBook Air

like life rafts.

Said goodbye to social media.

I don’t want to be linked in.

I’m tired of trying to keep up,

and fighting to stay current.

No.

So I just let go.

I’m not here to mass text

or robo call

or email blast 

or write on a wall.

Another empty voice

in a sea of information.

Chasing the newest thing

I have to have.

Waiting in line

to get ahead,

to beat the crowd, 

to be the best.

Losing a race 

I don’t remember why I’m running.

I want space

away from the noise.

That’s where my magic is.

I don’t need to help everyone

and be everything

to be something.

I’m here to go deep.

Heartbeat to heartbeat.

One 

soul 

at a time.

Fuck this.

I’m drowning.

Give me your hand.

I need to touch you.

Feel you, feel me.

I need to look into your eyes.

See you, see me.

That’s how I know

I’m real.