time spent offline

It’s funny the things you can get used to. 

I used to wake up to Twitter, the avatars shouting their grievances at me first thing in the morning; Open my eyes, reach under, beside, on top of the pillow until I felt it: Hard, flat, cool— Tap, tap, tap, tap; slide, slide; tap. For years, day after day, I would wake up every morning and before I even had had a chance to fully open my eyes, to grasp at and reorient myself to another day, reality, I would reach for the hard, flat, cool object under my pillow and enter the noise with thousands of avatars shouting their grievances to no one in particular first thing in the morning; the same noise I fell asleep to the night before. For years, day after day, this was how I started my day, how I went about my day, and how I ended my day.

For years, day after day.

Today, I can’t fathom waking up to such noise, the avatars shouting their grievances at me first thing in the morning.

There are no avatars really. No hard, flat, cool object under, beside, or on top of my pillow. When my alarm goes off, I get out of bed, tap Stop once on the hard, flat, cool object on my desk and I begin my day with a simple ritual to grasp at and reorient myself to reality, another day.

It is funny the things you can get used to. 

Today, for the first two or so hours of the day, it’s just me, and the book I have chosen to keep me company as I reorient myself to another day, to reality: A Guide to the Good Life— No grievances; just lessons for the living. I read a chapter, maybe more for about an hour and then I grab a pen and my journal, and turn to the empty page to begin— My lessons, my grievances: I; Sitting With Myself. I write about what I know, I ask for guidance for what I don’t yet know, and lately, it shocks and delights me how much I know, without the noise, without the avatars; tucked away in the quiet corner of my room with a desk, a chair, and my $2 notebook and a pen. And on those empty pages, scribbling, scribbling, scribbling, I know enough to know. With such knowing, I go about my day and end my day making more time, more moments for I; Sitting With Myself. There’s no Twitter, no avatars.

No way. 

It is funny the things you can get used to. 

And there was the in-between, in between waking up to Twitter day after day and Today. All the tips, the tools, the tricks and days of Today followed by weeks and weeks of waking up to the noise, to the avatars. And I would wonder, desperate and in rage, How come, if I love Today so much, how come I keep going back to the noise, to the avatars for days on end? And when the answer came to me one day, about two or so years ago on those empty pages scribbling my grievances, asking for guidance for what I don’t yet already know, that I couldn’t stand myself, I wept; tears staining the pages, making a mess of the truth staring right back at me: I simply could not stand myself. There weren’t enough tips, tools, tricks in the world, no amount of gimmicks that could save me from the thing that kept me running back to the noise, to the avatars: I disliked myself. And I asked the empty pages, desperate and with tears staining each word as I wrote it down, I asked for guidance; I asked, What should I do then? 

The Voice within replied, Sit With Yourself. 

There are no tips, tools, tricks, no gimmicks— No amount of money, lack of it thereof— that will save you from the thing that keeps you running back to the noise, to the avatars; and other drugs. It is You. It has always been You. And you must sit with yourself and curiously, bravely, gently ask for whatever you need to ask to know, to know what you need to know, to heal the thing that keeps you running back to the avatars, to the noise; and other drugs. Let how much you know, the answer(s) within you, shock and delight you. Journaling is one method of sitting with yourself, but each day presents plenty of opportunities for You; Sitting With Yourself; Waiting for your coffee, during lunch, going for a walk. Every time you don’t know what to do with yourself and before you reach for the hard, flat, cool object in your pocket, on the desk, under the pillow, take a moment instead to curiously, bravely, gently ask for what the thing in you that needs the distraction, the escape, actually needs— It is within You. Even if all you can manage today is five minutes, a minute, a split second, practice You; Sitting With Yourself to know all that you need to know, until one day, years later, you look around and there’s no Twitter. No avatars.

No way. 

It is funny the things you can get used to.