Seeking Reality and Better Rhythms

Examining my approach to the post office in my pocket

This week we enter the Easter Triduum; the pain of Christ’s Passion is before us, and the joy of Christ’s Resurrection is also in sight. For Catholics such as myself, the end of our Lenten fasts is approaching. I can’t wait to get out the chocolate that I tucked away, out of reach, at the back of my top shelf on Ash Wednesday. My first bite of Easter chocolate aways tastes so good - a small mirror on the infinitely deeper joy of the fulfillment of God’s promises.

Treats are a common fasting choice, but when I’ve asked my fellow Catholic friends what they’ve given up this Lent, “social media” or “scrolling on my phone” has overwhelmingly been the most common answer. Beyond Catholic circles and Lenten sacrifices, there seems to be a general sense abroad in the world that we all need to rewire and reorient and improve our usage of the internet. Over the past year or two, I have found the liturgical season of Lent to be a fruitful time to examine my online habits and habitations more carefully and to seek better rhythms to carry forward. Giving up social media for 40 days isn’t quite what I’m after. I don’t want a short-term break; I want a long-term better approach, a better relationship with these machines that connect us and yet disconnect us.

Through the internet, I have chased down many different windmills and will o’ the wisp ideas that have beckoned to my quixotic sense of creativity. This hobby has been and continues to be a source of delight as well as an exercise in discipline, as I wrestle each new video or blog post or book into existence. My digital doings have connected me with kindred spirits and valuable ideas and stories that I wouldn’t have encountered otherwise, and many of those ideas and stories that I found through the internet have brought me out beyond the four walls of the screen and enriched my tangible, actual reality.

But the benefits of technology, incredible as they are, are only one side of the coin - and it’s not so much a coin as a Gordian Knot. Tangled in with the potential to inspire us to explore more deeply the richness of reality, the internet also has not only the potential but the active and powerful propensity to keep us stuck in superficial habits and to rob us of our rooting in reality. Our devices provide us with distraction and entertainment on an unprecedented level, and most of the time, we would rather dwell in distractions and throw a mist over reality rather than inhabit the sometimes difficult grace of the present moment.

At the start of Lord of the Rings, Frodo Baggins knows he has an important quest in front of him, but he puts it off month after month after month. Just as he lingers in the comfort of Bag End and neglects his quest, I think we often let ourselves stay ensconced in some seemingly safe and cozy online corner and neglect the intimidating but necessary quests waiting for us in real life, in the tangible, visceral world. Maybe there are certain rings of power in our possession that need to be cast into the fire.

There’s a line from an 1863 Henry David Thoreau essay called “Life Without Principle” that I think about a lot:

Just so hollow and ineffectual, for the most part, is our ordinary conversation. Surface meets surface. When our life ceases to be inward and private, conversation degenerates into mere gossip. We rarely meet a man who can tell us any news which he has not read in a newspaper, or been told by his neighbor; and, for the most part, the only difference between us and our fellow is, that he has seen the newspaper, or been out to tea, and we have not. In proportion as our inward life fails, we go more constantly and desperately to the post-office. You may depend on it, that the poor fellow who walks away with the greatest number of letters, proud of his extensive correspondence, has not heard from himself this long while. (emphasis added)

Thoreau felt that even a physical post office building could be a threat to the good of the human soul. How much more of a threat is a post office that we carry everywhere in our pockets? A post office can provide useful and important services - but only when we keep its usage within healthy boundaries. How easy it is, when I’m feeling even just a little nervous or anxious or stressed, to automatically open some app and “constantly and desperately” check for new posts or likes or comments, for “correspondence” as Thoreau warns. So many of the apps that we all use on a daily basis are built on the premise of keeping us at the post office, keeping us scrolling, keeping us addicted. Their success depends on the failure of our inward lives.

Two views of spring buds getting ready to bloom. My camera can only capture one view at a time and blurs the rest. Only my eyes and senses and presence, in the moment, can take in both perspectives and the full richness of the scene.

Our roots need richer soil than any digital ground can provide. The seeds of self-reflection and prayer that I’ve planted over the past several Lenten seasons have been slowly bearing fruit, and bit by bit, I’ve been looking different dragons that I had been been avoiding in the face, setting out on the quests I’ve been neglecting, shaking myself loose from bad habits that I’ve allowed myself to drift into. It’s been a slow process, and it’s far from over, but with each small effort, God seems to lead me on to the next step. Following Yoda’s dictum about doing and not doing, I am resisting the temptation to add the words “try to” in front of almost every verb in these paragraphs, but of course this post is as much a reminder for me about the ideal I’m aiming at as it is for anyone else.

I’ve been aiming at setting a stricter guard over my attention, time, and energy and focusing these gifts more intentionally on in-person communities, experiences, and opportunities. I’ve bolstered and reinforced the screen-free habits I already have that keep me rooted in reality - following the traditions of the church, pursuing practices of prayer, reading, journaling, reaching out to connect one-on-one with friends and family, gardening, seeking quietude, watching the changing seasons, communing with my incomparable cat. I’ve been limiting the opening hours of this post office in my pocket and have closed some branches and routes entirely. After keeping Instagram off my phone and posting infrequently for the past few years, I’ve decided to log off permanently. While I’ve valued the connections I’ve made there and will miss the beautiful content that I know is still being shared there, the time has come to leave that hobbit hole behind.

In terms of both posts I send and posts I receive, I’m aiming to focus most of the time I do spend at the post office on longer-form stories that go deep and invite slow perusal and pauses for thought. I’ve been inspired by posts here on Substack like The 3Rs of Unmachining from

Ruth Gaskovski

at

School of the Unconformed

, which I would highly recommend. The steps of “Recognize, Remove, and Return” will look a little different for everyone, and for me, many recognitions and removals have been related to how I approach my hobby of online sub-creation (to borrow Tolkien’s term). There are all sorts of truths that bear frequent reminders.

I’m reminding myself that just because everyone seems to be on some certain online platform doesn’t mean I have to be there. Just because I’ve built up an audience on a certain platform or enjoyed that platform in the past doesn’t mean I have to stay there forever. Just because a certain past video or post of mine got a lot of traction or seeming “success” doesn’t mean it defines me or should define the stories I share moving forward. The real “success” of my ventures has been the real effort that I put into chasing these wisps, the windmills that my sub-creation has sent others chasing after in their real lives - the grace of God, in short, that was shot through my endeavor is what mattered.

I’m reminding myself that just because a certain experience I’m having could be a beautiful subject for a post doesn’t mean I have to get out my camera and capture it. I can rest in reality and let most moments simply come and go. I can wait for my inner Don Quixote to tap me on the shoulder and tell me which windmill to tilt after. I can seek to align my timing with God’s timing. I don’t have to keep my creative ventures on a set posting schedule. I can wait a few weeks or a few months or even longer for the story I’ve been wanting to tell to be ready.

Our machines tap into our desires to be in control and to be in the know, but technology hasn’t changed human nature. We’re still frail and fallen. Only God is truly in control and in the know. Part of the purpose of a Lenten sacrifice is recognizing that even something as benign as my love of chocolate could lead me astray and unroot me from reality. I have to ask God for the grace to help me regulate my habits and keep every part of my life in its proper place, and Him in first place. There is no substitute for the supremely real, individual, offline, often tedious, often discouraging, upward battle of developing an inward life, a relationship with God. We neglect that battle to our peril.

My journey to find better online rhythms is not limited to Lent, but I think its rooting in Lent has been very fruitful, and those two good habits mentioned earlier of pursuing prayer and following the traditions of the church have, in particular, moved so powerfully in my life. As we enter the Easter Triduum, there can be no better time to leave your machine behind, find a church, and sit quietly with Christ during Adoration or Mass. There is no better way to root yourself in reality than by spending time with the Creator of reality.

Home is behind, the world ahead,
And there are many paths to tread
Through shadows to the edge of night,
Until the stars are all alight.