social distancing on social media

We all know at this point that viral infections can spread easily through close contact with others.  The experts tell us: keep your distance to minimize risk to yourself, and to prevent yourself from potentially infecting others.  These thoughts can be terrifying.  Many of us are paralyzed by fear of the potential of either getting sick, or making someone we love sick.  The stakes are high, so even though we all want hugs, social time, playdates for our kids, a haircut appointment (me right now since my hair is verging on a cross between a Tiger King style mullet and a Monchichi doll - not cute)…we pay attention.  We try to be courteous to minimize risk.

Obviously, our physical health is important.  But at the same time, so is our mental health.  I’m not a scientist or a doctor, but I do know from my own personal experience that stress can affect the immune system.  And, if you’re a particularly empathic person, it’s possible to “catch” stress from others.

In a time of crisis, we want to connect with others.  We want - need - to be heard, and to know that we’ve not alone in our suffering.  But we also need to make sure that our motivation to connect has integrity behind it.  There’s a difference between connecting and simply venting.  There’s a difference between support and toxic commiseration.  True connection is a two-way street.  It’s a give and take.  It’s a “here’s what’s up with me, but I want to know what’s up with you too” kind of thing, not simply a verbal vomit of all the things that are bothering you.  If you’re the type to metaphorically puke on everyone in your immediate periphery, you may find yourself more disconnected than ever from others in a time of crisis.  Everyone else has their own crap to deal with, and it’s pretty tough to hold space for someone who has no empathy for you.

I would propose (in the current moment more than ever) to extend the practice of social distancing to one of the things that really connects us - social media.

When we have time on our hands, what do most of us do?  We typically 1. watch a whole lot of TV (that includes Netflix, not just network) and 2. go down the rabbit hole of endlessly scrolling social media outlets to see what other people are doing.  We are masters of distraction.  It’s a lot easier to look at fictional drama or other people’s real-life drama than to take a look at our own.  It’s hard to sit with our thoughts.  We *think* we want time, peace, quiet, and the space to do whatever we want, but then when the world stands still, we can’t handle it.  And so we get sucked into a spiral of lurking, of judging, of anticipating likes and comments.

It should be said I’m not advocate of simply cutting social media out of our lives.  Quite the contrary.  I have to use these platforms daily for marketing my businesses.  You can’t ignore the fact that social media is the main way most people communicate, and there are very few of us who have no social media presence at all.  It’s a great way of staying in touch with old friends and families who don’t live nearby.  It’s instantaneous communication across time zones and continents.

What I am an advocate of is having healthy boundaries.  Controlling what crosses our paths to the degrees we can.  Hysteria en masse is contagious, just as much so as a virus.  Misinformation spreads like wildfire.  Speculation runs rampant.

When we don’t distance ourselves in the virtual realm, we run the risk of ingesting too much information - too much negative news.  Too much stress = adrenal fatigue.  We run the risk of taking on other’s emotional baggage; I’ve been seeing far too many people in our current situation having very public breakdowns on Facebook, and it’s like watching a trainwreck.  It’s hard to turn away.  We run the risk of digesting inaccurate information - and then circulating it ourselves.  While we may “mean well,” we don’t always check our sources or even question our motivations before we press “post.”  But most importantly, when we don’t distance ourselves in the virtual realm, we lose precious time.  And - time is the one precious commodity we can never get back.

For your own sanity, it’s important to set limits on your interactions with social media so that you can have a productive and positive experience, one of connection rather than stress or alienation or fear.  How can we do this?

Ever just want to escape into your own bubble? Yeah. Me too.

One - we can be aware of our own patterns.  The first step to any lasting change is simple awareness of the issue.  Next time you pick up your phone or tablet, set a timer for when you open a social media app.  Yes, I know many phone operating systems incorporate screen tracking apps, but I think it’s important to get away from the screen and into the real world, so maybe use your watch, or the clock timer function on your oven.  It’s going to be hard to be honest with yourself about how much you’re scrolling - it’s kind of like the crazy face you make when a photographer tells you to “look natural” in your family photo.  Once you’re aware, it’s hard to “do you.”  But try.  Do this exercise for a couple of days.  Approach it like a scientist.  You’re not judging yourself.  You’re simply collecting objective, quantifiable data, that’s all.  You’re looking for patterns.

How much time did you really spend online lurking?  Be honest.

How much of that time was positive?

How much of that time felt icky or weird or even dirty (in a bad way)?

How much of that time was actually spent interacting or “talking” and how much was just scrolling to avoid being bored?

How much time did you *think* you would spend?  Did you anticipate that you’d spend as much time as you did?

It’s really tough to do this exercise.  But in any practice, awareness is the key.  Ignore your inner judge for now, the one that tells you to “should” all over the place (“you really should spend more time exercising rather than scrolling” as an example).  You’re simply taking down information, that’s all.

Two - unsubscribe from people that affect your psychological well-being.  

If you saw something in your feed that upsets you, or if someone in your feed constantly posts negative material that makes you feel bad, why do you feel compelled to look at it?  If you witness an argument in the comments thread on a post, and it has literally nothing to do with you, why are you still scrolling down for more?

It’s pretty simple.  If someone continually posts stuff that makes you feel bad, don’t look at it.  If you know something will make you angry, don’t look at it.

Whatever you do, don’t feel guilty about not partaking in their drama.  You can go to their individual page when you’re ready - and after you’ve braced yourself - to see what they’re up to.  What we’re trying to avoid is feeling assaulted by someone else’s issues. If you’re hiding someone you care about, give them a call instead of doing online surveillance.  Send them a text.  Offer them an opportunity to have a conversation, not a dumping session. 

And if that doesn’t go well, well…

It might be time to re-evaluate your relationship.

Three - schedule your online interactions.  Treat them like a business, with your page(s) acting as your brand.  Give yourself 5, 10, 15 minutes and set a timer, and check your notifications.  Be efficient and discerning with your time.  Check in on those closest to you.  And definitely check in on the most important things or pages, which for me, obviously, is anything to do with kittens.  OK, news too, but kittens always come first.

When time’s up, it’s up.  You’ll find that setting a timer streamlines things.  You’ll prioritize the important people and “feel good” stuff.  And yes, this is hard to do.  But seriously.  You have all the time in the world right now - why not focus your energy on trying to do something that requires discipline?  All it takes is about 3 weeks to acquire a new habit.  Make yours filling your social media feed with constructive - not destructive - content.

Four - be intentional with your own posts.  Before you post anything, ask yourself honestly:

WHAT GOOD CAN COME OF THIS?

Be real with yourself.  Are you just trying to vent?  Are you trying to hurt someone else’s feelings?  (If so, that’s not cool.  Just saying.)  Do you simply have a need to be seen?  If that’s the case, reach out to a family member or friend rather than broadcast your insecurities to a wide audience.

Remember: nothing online ever truly dies.  It’ll always be there, in one form or another.

Ask yourself a second question:

WILL I WANT TO REMEMBER THIS IN 10 YEARS?

If not, don’t post it.

If you don’t have a clear answer on either one of these questions, then wait.  Save a draft of what you wrote.  Spend 24 hours, and then come back to it.  Does it still seem like a good idea to put it out there?

In a time when we have ALL the time, it’s easy to tell each other how important it is to practice self-care.  But how do we define that?  Most of us think of things like a manicure or dying our grown out roots, watching our favorite sitcoms on TV, eating prolific amounts of home baked goods.  I’m a particularly huge fan of the latter.  But shouldn’t we think of self-care as a more all-encompassing practice, one that extends to our psychological well-being instead of simply our physical sense of hygge?  

In conclusion, I would suggest that it’s just as important to maintain our mental health as our physical health.  It’s as important - in a time of stress - to filter out the noise of what isn’t serving us.  In a time of quarantine, would you hug everyone that comes into your immediate physical space?  Of course not.  Consider extending your bubble of protection to the digital space as well.

what do you do when your world turns upside down?

Spoiler. Put your own oxygen mask on first.

About a year ago, I made the decision to write a book inspired by the questions I’m continually getting from young clients in my tattoo shop.  It’s saddening to me how many young people have never been taught to “adult” in (what I think of as) the most basic of ways.  You know, things like writing checks, learning to use credit cards, paying bills on time, addressing envelopes.  But none of these skills are taught in school, let alone in college.  

I can say that with a high degree of certainty.  I taught college for nearly 18 years.  Community college, university, small “little Ivy League” liberal arts colleges for New England blue-blood types.  Personally, I never quite fit in with the professorial crowd - I was always a little bit too real, too street.  I always kept a footing in the gigging world; I taught music and theatre and studio production classes, while I was out making money working in all three fields, plus tattooing on the side.  In fact, I’ve been largely a self-employed artist of various sorts since I was 17, so I’ve got a good 25 years of experience constantly hustling up the next gig to draw from there.  Common sense skills, vocational training - you generally don’t see that covered by state or college mandated curricula in higher ed.  

As a result, I wrote a book.  I wanted to help my young clients and my former students to acclimate to an unforgiving world outside of school.  My book was a practical manual on adulting - on how to manage basic, day to day things.  Getting jobs.  Working within a budget.  Investing.  Getting health insurance.  Dealing with student loan debt.  If it was a college class, it would have been titled something like “Life Skills 101,” with no pre-requisites.  I was about to start the final revision of the book this month, when…well…a global pandemic scare hit, and we’re all suddenly stuck at home, not making any money and freaking out about an imminent and dire lack of toilet paper, while the very real possibility of contracting a pretty awful respiratory disease looms large in everyone’s consciousness.  Now?  My book needs a whole new angle because of this new context, mainly because I fear we’re going to be facing a very different environment when we put real pants on again instead of leggings and wander back out into “normal” daily life. 

Let’s all be honest with ourselves.  We’re facing an unprecedented crisis, one we’ve not exactly anticipated let alone prepared for.  

That’s the big topic - as a self-professed “adulting expert” and “author” (wait until you see my fancy fancy YouTube videos!) — I feel the most compelled to address right now.  At the same time, I don’t want to focus exclusively on coronavirus, but rather crisis in general.  We can learn a whole lot from this present moment.  What do you do when the proverbial shit hits the fan, and your world turns upside down in a single instant?

Not all of us have ever had the experience before of having our entire world shift radically within a day or so.  Those of us who survived 9/11 - or maybe a raging wildfire or an unexpected violent action - get it.  It’s horribly disorienting and pretty traumatic; everything we’ve ever thought, expected, planned for - it’s suddenly out the window.  Experiences like this strip us to our core.  Some of us panic.  Some of us hoard supplies, in the illusion that we can control something in a world that’s no longer vaguely recognizable.  Some of us rage.  And others go into complete and total denial, doing exactly what we’re told NOT to do.  Spring breakers on Miami Beach anyone?

Look, I get it.  When poo hits the fan and goes flying everywhere, it’s a mess for everyone involved.  And while it’s understandable to lose your mind for a bit, that’s neither helpful nor productive.  I’ve been studying to become a flight instructor for the past couple of years, and an adage from commercial flying comes to mind in these situations: put your own oxygen mask on first.

Why YOU first?

Because - when an airplane depressurizes at 35000 feet, you have precious seconds before you completely lose consciousness.  If you spend those few precious seconds helping someone else - like a small child who doesn’t have the immediate cognitive ability to perform the said task at hand without panicking - you’re going to die, and so is the other person.  Whereas, if you get your own mask on quickly, THEN you can help the little kid.  And maybe no one dies.  We need to break free of the idea that taking care of ourselves = selfish behavior.

Frankly, in times of disaster, sometimes it’s easier to think about how circumstances are affecting other people rather than look to ourselves and strategize how we might clean up our OWN mess.  It’s always so much easier to see what’s wrong with someone else.  It’s always easier to tell other people the “right thing” to do in a situation.  It’s a hell of a lot harder to tackle our own crap. 

As a pilot, I’m into checklists.  This one is mine for disaster survival.

STEP 1: Take immediate action to mitigate disaster for YOURSELF.

First and foremost, get yourself to a SAFE PLACE.  That can be a physical place - like your apartment or home, or to a virtual place where you have a support system, like onto a phone call with your family or partner or closest friends.  Don’t delay on this.  Don’t cry about the circumstances and waste precious time.  If you waste time, you might be too late to escape.

To borrow another analogy from flying, when a pilot experiences engine failure, he or she shouldn't call air traffic control and start crying, or complaining “Why now? Why me?”  That pilot should be trained to first AVIATE, meaning, continuing to fly the airplane (and yes, we can fly without engine power), putting the airplane into a glide while attempting to troubleshoot the issue.

The same follows for you.  Glide along to a destination of a degree of safety before figuring out what to do next.  And by all means, don’t carry fifty cases of toilet paper with you, or focus on details, until you get to safety.

STEP 2: Take care of your immediate PHYSICAL NEEDS.

I know we all have loved ones and dear friends.  But before we can look in on them, we need to take care of our personal required physical needs first.  This includes: our financial needs, food, and shelter.  For example, when it comes to money, if you give out your last dollar to your friend, you’re now going to be in the position for asking for money from someone else.  Meaning: you yourself become a burden.  Now, I believe in asking for help when it’s needed, for sure - but in the case of disaster, look within.  Take care of YOUR needs before 1. either reaching out to someone else or 2. pre-emptively taking care of someone else and neglecting yourself, hence becoming a liability.

STEP 3: establish BOUNDARIES.

In adulting language, simply put, boundaries are self-imposed rules that separate our crap from other people’s crap.  Learning how to set - and respect - boundaries is a fine art, and one that every adult should attempt to excel at.  Boundaries can be physical and they can be psychological.  They can be action-oriented.

In the case of natural disaster, one good boundary might be to limit the amount of news items that one ingests.  In times of stress, hysteria is contagious.  While I don’t believe in IGNORING current events, it’s also not helpful to sit in front of the TV and listen to every single story about who’s dying, how they’re dying, how that’s affecting other people and making them die inside, etc.  Get the digest version.  Set limits.  Get the headlines in the morning for 15 minutes - ok, that’s what’s up.  Then move on with your day and into more productive activities.  Don’t let it eat away at you.

Also in times of extreme stress, you should try to limit your interaction with people who DRAIN you rather than build you up.  We all have that ONE friend who dumps allllllllll their (mostly self-made) problems on us - my best friend and I call this the “ol’ swoop and poop”.  We can care about that person from afar in tough times, but it’s not exactly helpful to US to get caught up in their apocalyptic visions of disaster.  It’s tough because sometimes toxic people are in our families, and it’s seriously taboo to not deal with family members.  But in this case, YOUR oxygen mask first.  If you get dumped on, you’re going to get stressed.  You’re maybe going to get strapped thin and then fall sick.  Don’t become a liability yourself, remember?  Set a limit and move on.

Interactions with people don’t even have to be in person.  Those interactions can be online.  In the case of a natural disaster, there will be those who recount every single possible horrible thing happening in real time - on Facebook.  Posts every five minutes.  Posts about doom, destruction, horrible poo.  You?  Does it really help YOU to scroll and read every single one of these posts?  Most folks typically use social media as a form of therapy - posting incessantly is often their method of getting out their ya-yas and their anxiety.  It’s not really about helping anyone else in many cases.  I’ve found, personally, that commiseration over a shared problem is only helpful to a certain degree.  It’s comforting to know people in the same boat as you, but you get to a point where it starts to drown you in negativity.  Move past simply talking to everyone around you about how things suck.  Instead, look to people who are posting solutions.  To people who are empowering others.  Set time limits and filters.

STEP 4: control the things you can.

I hate to tell you this, but you can’t control a pandemic.  You can’t control another person’s actions.  You can’t control the weather or a wildfire or an earthquake.  What you CAN do, however, is make a choice in the here and now to be healthy and productive.  You can adhere to good habits, not ones that draw you deeper into despair or even disease.

Good healthful habits are not sexy.  They’re super duper common sense things that pretty much everyone SHOULD know, but hey - not everyone’s been taught this stuff.  In general though - what you can control are things like:

1. Going to bed at a reasonable hour and trying to get some decent rest.  Sleep is a miracle medicine.  And if you’re so stressed you can’t sleep, lay down and rest.  Rest.  Rest.  You need it in times of crisis.  (And turn off your phone!)

2. Making choices for food that sustain rather than drain you.  Fruits and veggies anyone?  Believe it or not, apples and carrots aren’t that expensive - maybe they’re a little more than Top Ramen, but they’re a hell of a lot better for you in pretty much every way.

3. Avoiding OBVIOUS vices that will make you feel like shit in the morning. Don’t you want to be running on a full tank rather than on fumes, especially in the middle of a health crisis?

4. Getting some exercise in rather than sitting on your butt in front of Netflix for hours upon hours.  Go for a walk - alone - if you can.  You don’t have to have fancy equipment or six pack abs to start.  Just move.

5. Soaking in some sunlight, even if it’s just on your back patio by yourself for a few minutes at a time.  And if you don’t even have that, open the darn window and stick your head out into some fresh air.  Vitamin D does wonders.

It’s an uncomfortable truth of adulthood, but sometimes, things simply suck.  We can’t avoid those times.  And it’s hardly helpful to rail against them, to cry about how awful it all is, especially when we’re all suffering.  What is helpful, though, is to take care of what you can, and ultimately you should be your one first priority.  Take care of you.  Then - once you’re in a better position - look to providing support for others.  Put your oxygen mask on first.

letting go

This #31daysofscarystuff exercise has been a great one for me.  Looking at fear in the face rather than avoiding the situations that make me fearful has turned my vision of most of my ridiculous fears into a tiny kitten rather than the gaping maw of a people-eating mountain lion.  Admittedly, I’m still terrified of mountain lions in reality, having had my fair share of encounters on the trails, but I like this metaphor. Fear as a “vewy scawy” kitten. I can handle kittens.

Confession: I skipped my day 15 post yesterday.  It was partly out of laziness, but also partly out of a bit of burnout and just needing a bit of a break of “facing it all head-on.”  Today, however, I think I felt like addressing a fear that warrants two posts, so maybe this makes up for yesterday? (Or maybe I’m just giving myself an easy out?)  It’s a biggie in any case, so here goes.

Day 16: I have a huge fear of letting go.  

I think most of us hold this fear.  We fear letting go of comfort. Letting go of our pasts.  Letting go of our traumas completely, and hanging onto the righteous anger instead of channeling it in a more productive way.  Letting go of situations or relationships that aren’t optimal for us - but they’re routine and familiar. Letting go of jobs and striking it out on our own.  (I know a LOT about that topic.) For me, letting go of my family of origin. Letting go of my old career path in sound, theatre, music.

New is scary.  Unknown is scary.

For me, in my past - what I call now call my Life 1.0 - I found the definition of who I was in terms of what I did.  I’ve been slowly letting go of that identify, that equating “I do” with “I am.”  I fully understand why and how that paradigm came to be, given my family background in childhood.  Accomplishments equated to being seen. Love was earned; it never just was as a default state of being.  As a result, I personally became obsessed with accomplishing things - preferably big things - in order to feel like I even existed.  Talk about a recipe for neurosis and unrelenting stress!

Workstation - and necessary coffee - in NYC, October 16, 2017

Instagram just told me that two years ago today, I was in New York City, working as a sound designer for a pretty well-known theatre company.  My name was on a legitimate NYC Playbill, and that was awfully cool. I felt like I had done something, simply by being asked to be there. And you know what?  It was one of the worst professional experiences I ever had. I won’t really go into the why, but I will fully own that part of it was due to my own attitude. I was exhausted.  I had moved three times within a year, and had uprooted from one coast to the other. I had opened a new business the month before. Financially speaking, things were a little unsettled, to say the least.  And for the Type-A type that I am, it was terrifying.

I had no business taking on a gig like that in such a stressful moment, but there I was - going for the status.  (I certainly wasn’t going for the excellent pay - the pay was crap given the amount of time required.) Going for the billing.  Going for the accomplishment, even though I honestly somewhat grown out of wanting to even work in theatre and I lacked the endurance to sit through 16-18 hours of tech rehearsals.  I was definitely the weak link in the design staff on that production; I’ll admit it.

I simply couldn’t let go of what I did - being a sound designer for a good 17 years or so.

I couldn’t let go of that identity and that accomplishment.

I couldn’t get rid of the feeling like “I have to do something big and get a good credit” in order to be a valid person.

Writing this, admitting it, feels raw and terrifying.

I still, to this day, talk about what I used to do frequently.  I used to play in bands and toured a bit.  I used to write music for the theatre and traveled all over the place doing so.  I used to sing opera. I used to be a professor. I used to blah blah blah. I’m honestly sick of hearing my own stories, as entertaining and ridiculous as some of them are.

Who I am now is much more important than what I used to do.  Who YOU are now is much more important than what you do.  I have a tendency to use my “used to-s” as a way to beat myself up - like I’m not accomplishing enough or something ridiculous like that - instead of looking in the mirror, and seeing that I’m actually a pretty cool person to be with, regardless of anything I do on a career level.

I’ve found that if I continue to let the past rule the present, I’m missing out on opportunities staring at me in the face.  I’m missing out on new friends. I’m missing out on the moment. I’m missing out on being open, because I’m too defined by the “I do this, not that” crap.  I’ve always done this that way, not this way, so I won’t accomplish something major and it won’t be valid.  Yikes, right?

I’m not sure if anyone reads my posts on social media or not.  If you do, I hope you find some points to be helpful or interesting.  This month has been the perfectly timed experiment of growth for me as I embrace my Life 2.0 persona fully, a persona of I am, rather than I do.  This person enjoys the moment for what it is, not for what it could lead to in terms of external validation or credit.

31 days of scary stuff

NEVER EVER let me look at WebMD.

I just had a conversation with a dear friend the other night about how WebMD should be perpetually blocked in the web browser of anyone like she or I, anyone who is crippled by overwhelming anxiety over the absurd.  Believe me, when I say I suffer anxiety over the most ridiculous of possibilities, I’m grossly underestimating my skills and aptitude.

If I even so much as GLANCE at a medical website, I’m CONVINCED I suffer from the most rare of genetic disorders, the most devastating of terminal illnesses, and the most incurable of conditions that will undoubtedly result in the most profound of suffering and misery.  I was somewhat relieved to learn - in my conversation with my friend the other night - that I was not the only one as a teenager that lived in mortal fear of the most rare of disorders: immaculate conception. How would I have explained that one to my overbearing parents as a pimply 15 year old, who literally had zero boys interested in her?

We had a good laugh over our shared ridiculousness.

On the other hand, when I’ve actually endured a not-so-savory medical condition, instead of facing it head on (lest it be something as cataclysmic and unexpected as immaculate conception), I’ve typically ignored it until the point it rears an ugly head and forces itself onto me, much as my cat claws his way onto my lap every morning, and hence spilling my hot coffee into my crotch.  

Yes, I am the person who can start a story with “oh, that time I had the parasite.”  Incidentally, I named it Fred, and we were close neighbors for...oh...years. Fred was a mortal terror, and why he hated me so much, I know not.  I have no idea how Fred found me, except maybe through some secret friend/host finder account reserved for adventurous surfers who found themselves far, far, far down the coast of Baja in the early 2000s, unafraid of the risk of drinking tap water.  Thank God for anti-protozoal medications; bidding farewell to Fred was one of the most liberating moments of my adult life.

Speaking of being an adult…

If you follow me on social media, you’ll know that I’ve been doing a little experiment this month, my #31daysofscarystuff, for October.  I’m doing something every single day that freaks me out this month, and I’m sharing it publicly. I find it interesting that we as Americans, once a year, LOVE scaring ourselves over silly, ridiculous, and superstitious crap - oooooo, Ouija boards!  Demons and ghosts everywhere! - and instead tend to ignore the big scaries. You know, pending economic downturns. Widening gaps of rich and poor. Lack of retirement savings. Inability to pay healthcare costs. Things like that. It’s a lot more fun to think about ghosts instead of economic collapse, I suppose, just as it was more interesting for me to think about the possibilities of rare immune system disorders instead of confronting Fred head-on, years ago.

I’m using myself as a little bit of a guinea pig this month, as my “facing my fears for 31 days” personal challenge/extreme immersion therapy is really just a warm-up for a much bigger project.  A select few of you know this, but not many - I’m almost finished writing my first book. And, even less of you know this part, I’m using this book as a launch for a new business endeavor.

It’s about “adulting.”  Yes, I’m writing a manual - geared toward Gen Z’ers and Millennials - about essential adulting skills that do NOT get taught in school.  Things like basic money management, in-person networking skills, branding, writing emails and correspondence. And let me tell you - I’m pretty much an expert on this stuff, and after acquiring nearly 18 years of college teaching experience, I’m more than fit to educate the masses.

One of the things I notice about a lot of my tattoo clients who are members of these generations is that they almost always think something is wrong with them because they suffer from anxiety.  I’m not minimizing anxiety, or mental health issues by saying this - but here’s the thing. Part of being an adult is learning how to be comfortable with being uncomfortable. There’s nothing wrong with you for having fear or anxiety.  You’re absolutely normal. Some things are just scary. That’s all.

Anything worth doing - anything with a big payoff - is often a risk.  OF COURSE, it’s anxiety inducing. And it often f-ing sucks. But if you’re going to be a responsible ADULT human, you acknowledge it, say “Hey, what’s up! I know you!”, and move the hell on with your day.  Because - as an adult, you don’t have time to waste on spinning out about said risk. You work to minimize the risk, but take the chance to better yourself.

I knew I needed to practice what I’m planning to preach.

One of my biggest fears in life is actually letting people in, and being completely open and authentic about what I think or feel.  Yes, even those of you who have known me for eons (thinking of my college roommate here, and how she witnessed me as a 17 year old spouting off the most unfounded and blunt of insensitive comments, especially toward my dates), may not actually know what I REALLY think about a lot of things.  I’m actually pretty diplomatic. I’m the quintessential Libra, weighing all the consequences of every single word I say, every single social media post I put up, worrying about possibly making someone not feel OK, offending or alienating. I also worry non-stop about NOT BEING LIKED. Which is really dumb, because - hard truth - not everyone’s going to like me, and that’s OK.  But, as that little girl who was the kid in school who got non-stopped bullied and stuffed in the lockers in gym class, I’m scared all the other kids are going to make fun of me.

Here’s my cat. He’s cute. I’ll keep posting pictures of him.

My little blog post today is simply to announce my project: I’m starting a business where I’m giving advice on basic adulting skills for Millennials and Gen Z’ers.  There’s a book. There’s a YouTube channel. And there will be a website (likely not this one - it’s in the works). I’m scared as hell. I’m scared I’m going to be the over-poster and the over-promoter.  But, if there’s one thing I’ve learned as a reasonably successful business owner who opened up just over two years ago with NO clients and NO following and literally NO money left, if you’re going to hustle up customers, you’ve got to be your number one fan.  So, here goes. If you’re along for the ride, cool. I thank you. If not, you can unfollow or simply scroll past to look at pictures of my cat - which I assure you, I will continue to unabashedly post because he is OH SO FABULOUS.

Thanks for reading if you made it this far.  Here’s to doing things that scare us in order to get to the next level!

goals with integrity

I have to be honest with you all - writing this blog and embarking on this “adulting” e-book project is terrifying.  I’m overwhelmed with “idea collection”.  I’m a list maker, and I’ve enumerated all the topics I want to cover in one giant master list that seems to be continually expanding into a fire-breathing beast that’s out of my control.  

In short, I didn’t know where to start.

A few weeks ago, I gave a talk to some incredible students at Cal State Northridge.  I told my story (which, I suppose, I should relate here at some point) for the first time in public; this led into one heck of an amazing dialogue about what Gen Z’ers want to know - what they feel like is missing in “education.”  What life skills they need.  How to survive.  How to start out.  And while I felt like I gave some solid answers, I ended up walking away 1. profoundly moved by their experiences (what a privilege it was to hear their perspectives!) and 2. full of more questions for myself about HOW to teach the techniques of adulting that have worked for me.

Then I took a bit of a break here on the blog, went on a short (much-needed) vacation, and wrote a ton of stuff I have no plans to publish.  Yet.

It dawned on me literally at dawn today, running at the beach, this “starting” point.

The thing about adulting is: true adulting means that you take 100% responsibility for yourself.  This means your speech, your actions, the choice of who you associate with, the types of relationships you keep in your life, your financial decisions, and your career path.  If something doesn’t work out, if you’re really an adult, you don’t immediately blame others.  It’s never about blame.  Instead, you look at the cascading ripple effect of choices that YOU made that contributed to where you are.

Adulting means: you realize that you are 100% free to make your own decisions.

There is a huge amount of “overwhelm” if you realize this.  If you blame others - for example, if you think that you have to behave a certain way because of family obligations, your choices are limited.  And that is actually - while somewhat stifling - somewhat of a relief because those obligations only open a set amount of paths.  Not all paths.

On the other hand, if you look out on the horizon as I did today at dawn, and think, “I could literally run in any direction I choose”, it’s easy to become paralyzed.  When no one and no one thing are telling you “go here”, it’s easy to start running in circles.  Instead, you need to figure out your own plan of attack.  Your own route.  Your own reasons.

Sometimes life cracks open like an egg.  It can hurt immensely, but later on, you realize that “cracking open” is the beginning of true freedom.  I went through this myself several years ago with my divorce.  It was highly traumatic - splitting from a husband I had been with for over 15 years.  I was so young and inexperienced when I married him that I literally had no idea who I was.  My career, my hobbies, my past times - they revolved around him.  Yes, I became a fairly successful musician and sound designer during the period of my marriage, but in my deepest heart of hearts, that’s not what I wanted to be.  My ex was a musician, and music/sound was the only real thing we had in common, so I clung to that identity.  When we split, I had NO clue what to do next, and it was terrifying.  I blamed him for the loss of a teaching career (in music), for forcing me to stand in his shadow (through continually working for him instead of for myself), for depleting our savings (because of his addictions, and because I gave him complete control of our finances since that was easier than arguing).

At first, I felt like a hamster on a wheel - spinning.  I had no idea how to start over.

But today, I’m sitting here with a new, successful business as a tattoo shop owner.  (And I earned my pilot’s license, with much more flight training to come!)  I’m infinitely happier than I’ve ever been before.

How did I do this? 

It was all about:

1. Realizing I now had 100% freedom to make new decisions

2. Relinquishing blame for my own past decisions - making myself responsible for my choices rather than seeing them as a consequence of a relationship

3. Setting goals that had integrity

This is the lesson of this blog post - before you can go out into the world with a sense of purpose, it’s incredibly important to first set a goal with integrity.  A goal with integrity is both about you and not about you.  A goal with integrity is about something greater than yourself that you take 100% responsibility for. However, a goal with integrity is one that you choose, and NOT one that some other person or entity has chosen for you.  And if you don’t have any goals with integrity, you may end up on that same spinning hamster wheel I did at first, aimless and not sure where to go.  When all paths are open, how do you choose?

First, realize: goals that are all “Because = Me” (BM) are a waste.  While you may achieve some measure of “success,” you may find that achievement isolating. Empty.  A “now what?” in the end that you continually have to top.  If your goal is simply to become an instagram influencer, for example, and you achieve that, you end up with a bunch of followers.  Maybe even some kickbacks from ad placements.  And that’s cool, but really what was the point?

Goals that are both about you and your larger place in the universe are more motivating.  By setting goals in this way, you are accountable to yourself AND to others.  Going back to the instagram influencer example, if you set a goal to become an influencer to help raise awareness of an issue or to give back in some way, you may find a larger motivating factor to get up in the morning and to do the actual work.  You end up with followers, and maybe those kickbacks, but you may end up with a greater sense of satisfaction and purpose and impact because you’ve helped others along the way.

I used to follow a self-help guru that talked a great deal about our “shadow selves,” those parts of ourselves we hide and that we are often ashamed of.  I learned an exercise to get to the bottom of a shadow self from this guru, and it simply involved asking “why.”

When you set a goal, write it down.  Then write your “why.”

Read your why.  Then ask yourself why THAT why.  It’s like a two year old’s game - the “why” game.  It’s annoying, but it’s necessary.

In my case, with the opening of my latest tattoo business, I asked myself:

Why do I want own my own business, instead of working for someone else?

1. Because I can control my own environment.  Why?

2. Because I’ve worked in a lot of shops that haven’t felt safe.  Why?

3. Because those shops weren’t centered around clients and they often hired sketchy people who harassed me and my clients.  Why?

4. Because those shops weren’t tattoo-artist owned, and the owners had a single motivating factor - to make as much money as possible, as quickly as possible.  And those shops tended to fold pretty quickly!

I had a bunch of “a ha’s” over this.  I could be a good owner.  I could provide a safe space for everyone.  And because I do, I could actually make more money than I ever did before because I’ve created something unique in my industry.  I could feel good about myself too, because I am in some small way helping others by keeping them safe and taking them seriously.

My goal became a mission statement - to provide a safe space for all to express themselves through body art.  Once I had this in place, it actually became easy to get the business rolling.  I was able to communicate what I was doing specifically.  I attracted clients who wanted my services because of my mission.  And I started making a decent living again.

If you’re overwhelmed, realizing you have all the possible options open to you, go through the asking of “why.”  If the why keeps coming back to “because I want to,” that can be OK for the short term, but it might not sustain you when the waters get rough.  Accountability to something greater than yourself can actually be a life raft at times!  But you and ONLY you should set the terms of where you decide to sail.

dropping the f bomb

Class.

If one comes from a background such as mine, largely influenced by academic circles, the word “class” often has a derogatory meaning.  Class systems, class structures, classist views - all are meant to keep certain populations subservient and “down.”  While I tend to agree with many of these viewpoints, at the same time, I personally hold a more colloquial definition of “class” close to my heart, and that is what I’m choosing to address here.

I define class as possessing an inherent uncompromising personal dignity.  I think the phrase “a class act” to describe a person who feels that they are worth something, and does not bend to the lowest common denominator to present themselves to the world.  Showing “class” is not at all proportionate to the amount of money one makes, as I can think of many wealthy and highly visible individuals who display a commensurate lack of class through uncouth, perverse, and unrefined behavior.

Tools through which one can maintain a sense of self-esteem and dignity are very much the common topics addressed in self-help books and therapy.  I’ll admit readily - I am very much an avid supporter of both!  Lately, I’ve been struck by the enormous number of bestselling books within the self-help genre - which, often was formerly dedicated to woo-woo positive thinking and manifesting behaviors - that now incorporate colloquial profanity as part of their titles. Here are a couple of the better known ones (and honestly, I like both!):

You are a Bad Ass
The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck

...among many, many, many more

I get it - it’s a trend, an of the moment marketing ploy intended to get our attention, while simultaneously promoting the ideals of self-responsibility and self-improvement.  I do not believe the authors of these tomes have bad intentions; in fact, I’ve read a large number of these books, and have derived some great suggestions out of them!  However, I’m finding myself to be both saddened and demoralized by the normalization of profane language in public.

For those of you who know me personally, you’re likely shocked to hear me say this “out loud,” and you might cry “hypocrite!” (I don’t blame you.)  I will fully and readily admit the following: I have a terrible habit of cursing.  I have a terrible habit of reveling in scatological humor (poop jokes).  I am a fan of Beavis and Butthead and pretty much everything Mike Judge ever has or ever will produce.  I often have no “head to mouth filter.”  I’ve undoubtedly been influenced by many years of: playing in metal bands, working in tattoo shops, spending time behind the console in recording studios, and ultrarunning.  These are all disciplines not exactly known for “clean communication,” to say the least.  And that’s fine!  I still dearly love all of these disciplines and circles, believe me, and adore my friends I’ve made through my engagement with them.

Yet lately, I’ve had a bit of an personal awakening.  I’ve resolved to “drop the F-bomb.”  It’s not because I have some sort of “I’m better than you” attitude, but I believe I’m a quality person with a confident sense of dignity.  I strive daily to be a better person than I was yesterday.  As I’ve improved my life circumstances beyond recognition over the past several years, I’ve committed to monitoring my language more closely, as I want my outsides to match my insides, both in public AND in private.  I feel good.  I want to sound as good as I feel these days.  I invite you all to CALL ME OUT.  I want my outward behavior to reflect my inward transformation.  Believe me, this is turning out to be one of the most challenging habits to break; I’m slipping up a bunch, but I have faith that I’m going to be able to correct this behavior which has become more of a verbal tic rather than an emphatic statement.

I’ve always run my business ventures in a professional manner.  When around children or a significant other’s parents or at a church function (I was a church organist for many years, a lesser-known fact!), I have ALWAYS been able to curb my tongue.  So, I know I’m perfectly capable of purporting myself in a more dignified manner.

It’s tough, however.  One needs only to scroll through Facebook or other social media to see a preponderance of fucks, shits, and misspellings.  I’m shocked by how commonplace the supreme lack of editing of professional promotional materials has become.  Just a few days ago, I saw a friend post on Facebook about a training video for a college she has started to attend, and the word “licensing” was misspelled.  (You know, because in a training video for a college, we should have typos.  Right?)

I personally hate the term “grammar nazi” - I feel that learning correct grammar and spelling is simply a necessary life skill, both for personal and work-related communication.  In fact, I told a group of college students in a talk last week that going through four years of college education will help set them apart when applying to jobs simply by giving them excellent writing skills to set them apart from other job applicants.

This blog is about adulting - about learning skills to be an adult.  To address my readers: I believe being an adult means to purport yourself with the inherent dignity that you - and all humans - possess.  OWN IT.  OWN YOUR DIGNITY.  It does not mean that you are ignoring your past by portraying yourself eloquently in the present.  Choose your language carefully and reserve the most “colorful” terms for - umm - extreme circumstances that merit the choice.  (Things do have more impact, after all, when they occur only rarely, rather than within every sentence.). Proofread your writing.  Set the bar higher for humanity.  Just because everyone else presents themselves in a particular way doesn’t mean that you have to do the same thing, and it most certainly doesn’t mean that you think you’re “better than.”  It means you value yourself and your self-worth.  And isn’t that a vital part of “self-care?”

Whether or not you have money, whether or not you’re employed, be a class act. I believe you’re worth it.

the three definitions of adulting

When I was a young girl, the word “adult” was a noun.  I simultaneously dreaded the idea of becoming an adult, while at the same time, I couldn’t wait to grow all the way up and get the heck out of my house to do whatever the heck I wanted to do.  To become an “adult” was to be free, but also to have immense responsibility, the likes of which I wasn’t sure I wanted to bear on my, say, 10 year old shoulders.  

As a child, I wondered: how is it done, this mystical act of being an adult?

Today, the word “adult” has morphed into a verb for an activity.  “To adult”, when used derisively, means taking care of crap one would rather ignore, for example.  “Adulting” is a hashtag on social media, often typed in order to get accolades for actually doing something responsible; it’s become a digital badge of honor, this adulting activity!  At its best, adulting is finding work, going to work, paying bills, cleaning the toilet, filing your taxes on time, saving for retirement in a variety of relatively safe investment strategies, carrying the correct types of insurance policies lest any unforeseen disaster arise, etc.  Basics.

Well, for me, they’re basics.  For young people in their early 20s, these might still be mystical ideals.  If no one’s ever explained “how,” OF COURSE these tasks might seem insurmountable - and dreaded. I don’t blame young people one bit for being mystified by the process of adulting.  I know I was when I left the nest.

I’m writing from the perspective of someone in GenX, someone born in the 70s.  I left home at 16, and never looked back.  I started working full time by 17, and never took a break for something like a “gap year” backpacking across Europe.  Nope.  I adulted from the get-go, because if I hadn’t, I would have starved.  Literally.  I didn’t have the luxury of asking anyone for help - I’m someone who’s been estranged from my family for years and years and years, as I came from an abusive family environment.  Taking help came with crazy strings attached that undoubtedly would result in severe psychological trauma, so I went it alone.

I learned: if I wanted something, if I wanted to go somewhere, to do anything, I had to figure it out by myself.

I thought college would help me with “adult” skills, but I found out quickly that rather than help, college hindered in many ways.  One - it was exceedingly difficult to balance college with several part-time jobs.  Two - most of my professors (especially once I made it into master’s and doctoral programs) told me that I needed to focus entirely on school rather than making a living.  Take out loans, they said.  Ignore the outside world, they said.

I’m so glad I didn’t.  Today, I have a PhD (albeit one that I no longer “use” in terms of my current employment situation), and zero student loan debt.

I’ve been thinking a great deal about adulting recently, as I interact nearly daily with members of the iGen, or GenZ, young people under the age of about 25.  I’ve seen such a sense of anxiety in this demographic, fear at having to engage in more “adult” activities, a slower rate of “growing up” (delaying leaving home, driving, etc.), fear of being unsafe, a sense of words as violence...many of the same things other writers talk about in books on this generation.

Rather than look at members of this generation with derision, I look at them with compassion.  I see myself at that age, and remember the anxiety, the confusion, the angst.  And when I was that age, I didn’t have a smartphone in my hand.  I do firmly believe that technology is both a blessing and a curse, that social media brings us together and drives us apart simultaneously.  The technological revolution of the past ten years, even, is something we don’t yet understand; we don’t yet have any idea of the possible psychological and physical evolution we are undergoing due to being in constant connection over the internet.

Constant connection creates constant noise.  How can a young person possibly focus on learning to “adult” while they’re continually assaulted by an endless stream of conversation, information, headlines, conflicting advice, “fake news”? How does a young person know what to believe, when all points of view have been democratized?

I suggest that learning “to adult” focuses on three concepts.  Two are somewhat cerebral - dealing with inner work - while the third is more of a practical nature.

#1 To adult means to find moments of joy between endlessly solving problems.  This means that no matter what we do - no matter how much we attempt to control our environment and living situations - stuff happens.  It’s simply inevitable.  You can’t let dealing with said “stuff” - from the mildly annoying to the catastrophic - keep you from enjoying certain aspects of life.  If you get lost in the trauma, all that’s left for you is drama.

#2 To adult means to be comfortable with discomfort.  While I love self-help books, I really think they lie by painting the vision of a future that literally exists for NO ONE.  “Feeling good” doesn’t happen 100% of the time, even if you do everything that self-help gurus tell you to do.  Reality is this: sometimes things suck.  They just do.  Accept the “suck moments” as part of life, as background noise.  There are some things on which you can take immediate action and others you cannot.  I’m not saying to ignore bad circumstances, but rather to have boundaries and realize that you can only solve what you can solve at any given moment.

#3 To adult means to take responsibility for yourself and your current life situation completely, even if you can’t help what your family background and upbringing may have been.  Some of us came into life into adverse circumstances, such as I did with a family steeped in generations of physical, psychological, and sexual abuse.  Some of us were raised in extreme poverty, without knowing where our next meals would come from.  You can’t help that.  But, you need to know that the actions you take today CAN affect the rest of your life.  It’s vitally important to understand and unpack your past, particularly if you’re a survivor of trauma.  But it’s equally important to not get lost in it, to not lose your footing on the present moment, and to not become self-identified solely as a victim.  That strips you of your agency, and your ability to affect future changes.  Empower yourself as a survivor, someone who’s able to overcome adversity and someone who has learned to thrive.  You will never be a burden on anyone else if you take full responsibility for yourself.

Most of my future writing on this blog will deal with practical “adulting” topics, mainly related to my third definition.  Taking responsibility, taking care of yourself, redefining self-care.

And I’m curious - what is your definition of adulting?  What types of topics do you feel would be beneficial to address in light of my third definition?

Thanks for reading and sharing!

put the phone down

first 50-miler smiles, 2007

At my core level of being, I’m a distance runner.  Not because I’m trying to run away, not because I’m trying to lose weight, and certainly not because I want to look like someone’s perception of an athlete.  I’m a distance runner because it’s how I’m able to quiet my mind.  It’s how I’m able to “be here now,” to exercise in mindfulness as well as in a physical form.  Running is my spiritual practice above all else.  I’ve never - despite the most ardent of attempts - been able to “sit” in meditation.  For whatever reason, due to however my wacky brain is wired, my body has to be in motion, my breath forcibly measured and regulated at intervals.  A few other activities have helped me achieve the same “flow state” as running, tattooing being one of them.  But running has always been the most efficient, and has been my most lasting practice, as I began distance running in the fall of 1989, nearly 30 years ago, when I joined my junior high school’s cross country team.

running on the white line to the middle of nowhere

I love running virtually more than anything else in the world.  I mean it.  Even during my years racing as an ultrarunner, I enjoyed my solo 20-30 mile runs in the mountains or group treks with my crew of girlfriends much more so than my podium finishes at races, including 100-milers.  I’m proud of those accomplishments, but even a 100 mile win never brought me the same sense of peace as a long trek in the woods.  No music, no headphones, no conversation - just communion with something greater than myself.  Nothing gave me more clarity than my attempted trans-continental run in 2015, where I realized: 1. I needed to leave my then-marriage, 2. I honestly never wanted to have children, and 3. If I was ever going to be successfully and happily employed, it had to be in a business of my own making, not someone else’s.  Crazy that running by myself more than 30 miles a day across the barren landscape of Nevada brought me that clarity, but it did...until my tibia snapped 13 miles from the border of Utah.  That’s another story entirely.

I went through some highly traumatic experiences immediately upon the conclusion of that attempted transcon, and ended up moving three times within the span of only a year, partially due to threats to my physical well being.  (One of those moves involved relocating to the opposite side of the country, to a place where I didn’t know a single soul besides my now-partner.) Then my mother - with whom I had a very complex relationship - died after a long struggle with Lewy Body Dementia.  One doesn’t simply relocate and move on; it takes time to recover from seismic shifts in one’s emotional landscape.  After my big move out west, any time I would run an extended distance, my mind would spin out on every possible topic centered on my darkest fears.  “Fantasized experiences appearing real” - so true! I often would have to stop, to walk, sometimes even to cry.  My body changed from one of an endurance athlete to the body of a very normal, somewhat fit 40-something.  I gained more than 20 pounds, went up two dress sizes, and expanded by many inches around my hips.  I’ve embraced the change, the normalcy of it, the lovely squishiness of a few extra curves.  I still loved my body.  But I missed the running and the quietude of my mind.  My inner soundtrack felt inescapable.

During the time immediately following my move, I always carried my phone with me on runs, presumably to take pictures of my beautiful surroundings.  My relocation was to paradise - on the Ventura County coast in Southern California.  I would run typically at dawn, on the beach.  There’s nothing like sunrise at the coast.  I used the excuse of needing to capture those moments on my phone’s camera, had to share many on Facebook and Instagram.  I reveled in the likes, the comments, the “thumbs ups” and the “loves.”  After all, isn’t that how social media sucks us in, how it’s designed?  I couldn’t go without my daily dopamine, since - after all - I literally couldn’t calm my mind through running.  I craved constant connection, as if I was going to crumble without perpetual digital validation of my daily experiences.  If no one sees me, do I even exist? I had heard about the anxiety of going without a smartphone; I know now that’s a real phenomenon, as during that time, I could rarely go more than five or ten minutes without checking my notifications. I replaced quietude with digital validation. Meditation with technological “noise.” Self-love with affirmation from afar as a coping mechanism.

Recovery from trauma, loss, and grief is slow to achieve.  It’s only been in the past few months that I’ve been able to run continuously once again without the emotional flooding that became like a familiar blanket, a cocoon of sorrow and mourning.  Some things just take time and distance - one of the greatest lessons of adulting is that things happen in their own time.  There are some things that you just can’t force. Yet there comes a time when you need to let go, as a familiar warm, comforting blanket becomes a suffocating force.

I’m so grateful each and every day now that I’m able to run even a few miles without my smartphone in hand.  It started again by building up with one mile.  Then two miles.  Then a 5K.  Now up to 5 miles.  I know - from experience - that before I know it, I’ll be back up to a few hours again likely by the end of the year.  I can feel it again, that familiar headspace of a calm “there’s so much more to existence than what I see before me and I don’t need all the answers.” I don’t need that headspace disturbed by the ping of constant notification alerts.

There’s such a difference between my running now that I’m firmly planted in what I call “Life 2.0” versus before my transcon.  It’s been a gradual awakening.  I think of that Tobey Maguire and Reese Witherspoon movie Pleasantville, where the characters went from black and white to technicolor.  I’m living life in full spectrum color these days, not just on my old black and white analog set with rabbit ears adorned with tin foil.  I see more.  I hear more.  I feel - aware.  Awake.  Fully conscious, firing on all cylinders.

I observe so much more now.  Other runners.  Walkers on the beach.  The homeless.  Drug addicts.  Birds.  Flowers.  Smells.  Ocean waves.  Surfers.  Breaks.  Some things are beautiful, some things are tragic - the full gamut of life experiences.

The one thing I notice above all else that’s a change from me pre-Life 2.0 is the overwhelming omnipresence of the smartphone.  Here I am, on the Ventura pier.  And here is 90% of everyone else, staring down at a tiny screen.  Some are taking pictures, but many are walking and staring down - while if they only chose to look up, they could see the vast expanse of the Pacific before them, the infinitesimal beauty of an endless horizon.  The thing that is greater than ourselves.

I see runners, phone in hand, texting while running.

I see moms with jogging strollers, phone attached to said stroller, blasting Spotify playlists.

Kids taking selfies on the beach.

Elderly men - loud talkers - having intimate conversations in the open air.

I’m not judging.  I’m observing.  How our world has changed in just a few short years!  And I wonder - how many others are hurting? How many others feel isolated, and use their phone - as I did - as an anchor to the perceived sanity of an outside world, however illusory?

How much are we missing that is literally right in front of us?  How much privacy are we relinquishing through our lack of public boundaries and our preponderance of over-sharing?  How many opportunities are we passing by to engage with nature, with each other?  Are our in-person relationships suffering?

I don’t have answers - just simple observations and a virtual boatload of questions.  I actually still love social media, and am grateful to it for bringing new relationships and business opportunities into my life.  But I do question most of our boundaries and practices with it.

Much in the way it took me to build up to running several miles again in quietude, maybe we need to set the phone down.  Five minutes, 10 minutes, more?  I feel that we simply have to build up our endurance with simple practice.  Look outside.  Breathe.  Realize that this moment is finite.  It won’t last more than it lasts, and then we will have to move on.  Maybe we need to relish the beauty inherent in this one fleeting second, grateful that we still are breathing, that we still are existing and observing. I know I do. I’ve never been more grateful to be alive.

What are your thoughts?  How do you balance your interaction with your smartphone and your in-person life?  What do you observe?