Years ago I left Facebook. It was a decision I have never regretted, not once. It means I am left out of a lot of opportunities like book launch teams, great deals on marketplace, participating in groups that offer community, or some such idea of what community looks like these days. And noise. Lots of noise.
When Twitter sold out to the prevailing oligarchy I jumped ship. I had already been toying with the idea of leaving, but the sellout was my tipping point. I am still on Instagram though my thumbs twitch at the thought of clicking the cancel account button. My toes are edging towards the precipice of nothingness that is life without social media.
After recently publishing a book, and launching a new endeavor, is now a wise time to break the tie? There are also friends there I would miss, but the noise has been increasing as my sense of peace diminishes. And then there is the question of how you stay relevant when you disappear? Or, maybe reverse that- how do you disappear and stay relevant? Does it matter?
The other thing I've considered is no longer having a website. Back when I first began blogging, back when we used pick axes, wax tablets, and all sorts of odd modes of taking note, it was drilled in my psyche that I must. have. a. website. Web 'presence' was everything. I dutifully went about my website existence updating, posting, adding carousels of pics, developing content. Then I didn't. I discovered other, quicker, simpler ways to write into the void. But I held tightly to that website address as if letting go meant my identity would scatter on the breeze like dandelion seeds.
This week I cut the cord, or thread-I’m not quite sure what you call it. I am down to two ways of communicating: Instagram and Substack. There is an old country song (there is ALWAYS a song) whose theme is ‘Itty Bitty’ and I am feeling it’s alright to be ‘Itty Bitty’ in my own world. I feel lighter already. I am busy with book ideas, a new workshop (check out @respitecreativeworkshops on Instagram), and relishing the time I have now that I have a few less things to carry around in my mental storage space.
Making space matters. Space for getting hands dirty in the garden, building fairie houses in the woods, riding bikes, and swinging on porch swings, blueberry picking with an ice cold blueberry soda as a reward for the four and six year old and a glass of grown-up blueberry pop for me…all before noon on a Monday. There is something about being fifty-seven that makes one mindful of time-where it’s spent and how much of it there is. It isn’t infinite, at least not from this vantage point. You know, some say “Go big or go home”, I’m going home now…because that’s where the good stuff happens.
What’s on my nightstand…
What was actually in my earbuds for this one, What Are You Going Through, by Sigrid Nunez. This book is small but mighty and will stick with you long after you’ve reached the end.
The Friend, another great read by Sigrid Nunez-you won’t be disappointed. Her work is the stick to the ribs kind of writing-crisp and fluid with a side of punch.
The Given, by Wendell Berry. In some ways it makes sense that I am reading Berry’s work along side of Nunez’s. Both have a sparse, yet complete aesthetic to their writing that leaves you carrying the weight of the words long after you’ve closed their books.
Eiríni se séna
Susan
Going all Itty Bitty
I love this.
And also I need to know how to make blueberry soda (and the grownup version)!