Yesterday morning, I sat in front of my computer waiting for more bad news to appear in my Twitter feed. Some part of me felt it was critical to remain constantly informed, regardless of my inability to actually do anything with most the news I’m reading.
Out of the blue, it dawned on me: This is not healthy behavior! So I stepped away from the computer with the twin intentions to (1) do something kinder to myself now and (2) check news only intermittently and briefly throughout the day.
But what was there to do?
My eyes landed on a couple of journals on a dining room curio cabinet. Continue reading “For old time’s sake”
Soon after I created my first blog in 1995, a reader emailed me a touching message: He’d never expected to something so human coming (to him) from a computer.
I’ve been thinking about that comment a lot the last day or two. There was a not-so-distant time when profoundly human voices were widely accessible online.
Those voices are still out there, but they’ve felt few and far between to me for several years now.
This all is on my mind due to a change I made last week. After three years away, I returned to Twitter to see if I could make it be a source of genuine connection.
In one week, I’ve remembered with crystal clarity why I left in the first place. For all the countless words posted there, there can be precious little genuine connection.
The moments of connection are undeniably powerful. I’d like to keep–and build, where I can!–those moments while leaving the rest.
I’m not sure how to do this, which amuses me since being human online came easily to me (to most?) in those early days. I’ll thus keep testing, seeing if it’s possible for me to routinely take part in genuine human connection there, and how.
But if I find myself logging off Twitter (or any online experience!), more lonely and tired than when I logged on, I’ll stop using it. I’ll seek connection where it seems likelier to be found, online or off.
I don’t know the answers, but I’m glad to be on what is, for me, the right path: the one pointed toward felt connection and community.