Here is where time gets zapped… Here is where we venture deeper into an everlasting, sweet-n-sour wormhole and further away from ourselves.
Open Instagram, TikTok, Twitter, Facebook, Reddit. Scroll, scroll, scroll, double-tap, bookmark, comment witty comment, share post to story, scroll, scroll, rewatch story 3 times, scroll, double-tap, share meme with friend, scroll, share another meme with friend, check to see who watched story (did they watch it yet? not yet. that’s okay, it’s only been 6 minutes), scroll, screenshot useful post about banana pancakes, scroll, scroll, rewatch story, tap through everyone else’s stories, close Instagram. Feel sensation of restlessness surge through body, sigh deeply. Go to bathroom. Turn on shower. Wait for water to warm up, open Instagram again (oh good, they watched my story), make mistake of clicking on explore page, click on post about astrology, go down 14-post rabbit hole (oh wait, the water’s been running this whole time). Close Instagram. Shower. Come out, dry off, brush teeth, pick up phone again.
STOP.
What happens when you sit still? What happens when you put your phone down? What happens when you actually feel the weight of your body planted where you are? Why is it so uncomfortable to put your phone down? What Loch Ness monster slinks under the surface when your attention isn’t hijacked by the rectangle in your hands?
Everything on our phones exists in a vacuum of blue light. Here is where time gets zapped, attention span: zapped, self-worth: zapped, productivity: zapped, work ethic: zapped, energy: zapped, circadian rhythm: disrupted, dopamine: depleted, brain chemistry: altered. Here is where we venture deeper into an everlasting, sweet-n-sour wormhole and further away from ourselves. People are even recommending blue light glasses for our eyes and face creams with not just UV but also blue light protection for our skin. And more invasive than the blue light are the addictive algorithms of our beloved apps. They’re made this way on purpose, like little candies. And like candies, these algorithms are quietly rotting away our attention spans, among other things. We’ve become Hansel & Gretel traveling further into the gingerbread house with every swipe, double-tap, and scroll. And the witch who lives here only wants one thing: our viciously undivided attention.
You’re probably tempted to stop reading this now because I’m touching on something we both don’t want to hear. But don’t. Don’t stop reading. Because I have something that might help. I’m not here to tell you to stop using social media – I’m right next to you inside this cyber gingerbread house… But I am here to tell you that I know where the back door is. And that’s what I’m going to show you.
Follow me:
What happens when you stop scrolling and you sit still and you let your breath fall to the very bottom of your diaphragm? Deep, deep down where the well water is (aka your tummy). And everything that’s troubling you in this moment, everything you’re trying to anesthetize with your scrolling, allow all of that to drop down to the bottom of the well, as well. Let it all drop. Your breath, your hips, your head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes. Allow your breath to be the vessel that carries your worries, your fears, your insecurities, your restlessness, all of it, down to the bottom where your stomach can digest it. Try it now. Get your eyes off this screen and take a few deep breaths, focusing on the sensation of everything dropping way down. [Do not keep reading until you’ve done so, please and thank you.]
Did you do it? Okay good, now you can continue:
Want to try something cool? If yes, continue reading. If no, exit out and go back to scrolling (no one will know…except you though…)
INSTRUCTIONS: Allow your body to follow through this next paragraph. All you have to do is place your attention on each part of your body as I mention it, one at a time. And to quote my favorite band, Radiohead, Go Slowly (listen to the song here):
Your toes, your toenails, the soles of your feet rooting you, the little hairs on the tops of your feet (yes, we all have them), your Achilles, your shins, your calves, (take your time) the backs of your knees where it feels ticklish, your strong knee caps, the sides of your knees that sometimes like to high-five coffee table corners, your quads, the softness of your inner thighs, your tough hamstrings, your hips that square you to face everything, your glutes that you’re probably sitting on right now, your lower back, your reproductive organs, your belly button that once connected you to your mother, your waist, your gut that digests both food and fear and sends you little intuitive messages, your ribs like two perfect cages, your solar plexus between them where your dreams live – begging you to take a shot on them, to give them a chance, your nipples that are as unique as your personality, your chest plate guarding your heart, your arteries that send blood all over the map of your body, your spine that supports you like the trunk of a thick tree, your shoulders that are starting to drop away from your shy ear lobes, the space between your shoulder blades where grownups used to put their hand to comfort you when you cried, the backs of your arms, your elbows which you can’t lick (though you’ve tried), your forearms, your quiet and resilient fingers, your hands that want to hold another set of hands, the sides of your neck where you like to be kissed, your throat through which your voice travels up and out – announcing your existence, your jaw that holds back the dam, your brave chin, your lips that are warm from the heat inside your mouth, each shining white tooth and your soft tongue dancing together as you talk and chew and sing and laugh and taste the world, your cheekbones high and mighty, your nose pointing you in the right direction, your ears gifting your soul with the holiness of music, your eyes that can never hide anything – with pupils as deep as outer space, your eyebrows: their umbrellas, your forehead that can soothe the rest of your body if you place your palm on it (try this), the top of your head where you used to have a soft spot, remember? And oxygen flowing into your life-giving lungs whose exhale carries ease to every corner of your being: physical and nonphysical. Did you forget this all started with talking about our phones? Do you see how little that matters now? Can you accept the magnificence of your own body and how it can rescue you?
And listen: our phones, computers, and tablets can be wildly useful and nothing short of miraculous. The issue is most of us are losing ourselves in them (and it’s not our fault). We lose time. We lose contact with our bodies. We press mute on our true dreams. If you can, only for a moment, return your focus to your body, it will refocus your attention. And in this refocusing, you’ll begin to hear something else. You’ll hear your dreams and your soul singing to you. A duet more fulfilling than anything the blue light vacuum could ever deliver. When you come back to your body, you come into contact with something else. Something much, much larger. That’s the back door out of the gingerbread house: returning to your body. Like Dorothy clicking her heels, “There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home.” So come back to it again and again. What if something good happens?
Oh, and one more useful (and vital) thing for the road: when I throw myself into a creative project, it makes social media feel distant and less appealing. Creativity is a diamond and social media is cubic zirconia. Creativity brings me closer to myself and social media carries me further away. Creativity is energizing and social media is draining. It is contact with my own body and contact with my own creativity that leaves me feeling like I haven’t left myself behind, covered in gingerbread crumbs.
(Recommended Supplement: Tristan Harris’ veil-lifting article “The Slot Machine in Your Pocket”.)
