New year, new efforts. In the spirit of staying current and opening up, I’m publishing a weekly reflection consisting of observations and personal experiences.
In revisiting my morning pages, I’ve seen how quickly my mind abandons ideas and notions before they have a chance to exist in conversation with anyone but myself. Sometimes it’s the burden of having an idea I like too much that I’m daunted before I’ve begun. Sometimes it’s an insight that gets lost within the chatter of daily life as a currently seasonally-affected being. No matter the reason, these notions could use more air in the collective unconscious (and should you like, your current consciousness.)
Plus, it’ll be nice to write without thinking about a larger plan. Minimal editing. Sparse research. I’d like to give these ideas a chance to breathe with others.
Let’s get some fresh air.
media-fasting
I’m approaching January with a sense of resetting. For the first week, I put myself on a media fast. No TV, no movies, no games, no books, no news, no podcasts, no music. The fast was inspired by an exercise in The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron, published in 1993 with rules for an offline era. After reading a little bit about the desert fathers (monks who lived as hermits in the desert, including some notable trans monks,) I figure I could use some stimuli deprivation. I sense there is more to life than what I am currently living. My theory - The tools I seek for authenticity and exploration can be discovered in the space between me and my media habits. The media I enjoy can help reassure me that the tools are there, but created works cannot give me those tools.
the dry spells of seeking stimulation
In the absence of stimulation, the mind seeks attachment. We become starved for information, regardless of its merit or usefulness. The 24-hour news cycle does not help an ordinary citizen go about life in their household. There are circumstances where survival necessitates a persistent social media presence, but 64% of us know full well we need to take breaks.
Prohibited from reading any intentional letters or works, I attached myself to a box of Cella’s cherry cordials, bought on holiday clearance from CVS and decorated with a questionable detail.
The detail in question:
I checked the back to see what the clear liquid was. It was a dead end.
“Unlike other candies, Cella’s has an unknown and mysterious liquid. We cannot stress enough that this is 100% clear liquid. The clear liquid completely fills the chocolate except for the 30% occupied by the cherry. No other questions will be asked of the liquid, which is clear.” Either way, I’ve been having them in my coffee, a+++ would recommend the unknowable liquid.
Another near-derailment occurred during my search online for the proper water-lentil ratio. I came across a cooking site that had a recipe for plain green lentils. Just below the recipe, a comment caught my eye:
Maddening.
If it’s a bot, it's not promoting anything. If a living being posted the comment, are they of this world? What is their flavor pallet? Have they eaten lentils raw until August 31st 2022? Do they make for a protein-rich addition to trail mix? I didn’t use my laptop for the rest of the day.
Sharing these observations now, though funny in a “oh-ho-ho” sensible chuckle-way, feels antithetical to the week’s purpose. The whole point was staying detached, and yet I come to you presenting the burrs that cover my cloth. Funny burrs, sure, but at what spiritual cost!? Maybe the goal of detachment is to eradicate observational humor. To practice comedic detachment is to reinforce psychic protection from going full-tilt Andy Rooneyish. Comedic detachment: the path of no gods, no seinfelds, only awareness of The Way.
perks of the fast
Sleeping better. I was bored and cozy by 10 pm most nights.
Completing chores earlier in the day, though the silence was strange to get used to. My defenses did their best to rally against the silence. (I made a lot of muppet and gremlin noises while wandering the apartment. I eventually began singing and humming while doing dishes.)
Feeling palpable excitement toward catching up on missed media I’d get to catch up on next week. Mainly My Brother My Brother and Me’s 2023 Naming Of The Year.
Meditating easier. I didn’t have to pull myself from something else in order to do it.
Gaining awareness of my idle behaviors. Sometimes I flick between my phone's menus and home screens without destination. The feedback of my actions on the screen reassures my existence and agency. Touching a reactive surface feels good to the mind. I move colorful things like a god of beauty. Some remnant of my ancestor’s brain sees these moving colors as a forest of blossoming flowers and trees, parting through petals with colors in richness they’ve never seen before, which I simplify without whimsy as “candy-colored” An ancestral nugget of grey matter processes a red icon as a ripe berry, and the modern-me keeps touching the screen because the ancient-me hungers.
cons of the fast
Mental blocks persisting. I wished to have socialized more, which was a huge oversight on my part. I also felt a little strange asking people to hang out with the caveat we elude media in all forms. Now that I’m outside the week, I can see how my suggestion could have sparked positive change in the people around me.
did i find the hypothetical tools of authenticity and exploration?
Kinda! I worked more on my own projects, which is cool, but not mindful. I wrote more, though “more writing ≠ healthy choices.”
I wish I could say I lasted the whole week without slight cheats, but alas. I took care of myself and withheld judgment the best I could. I played video games for about an hour on Friday night and read on Saturday. Plus, it couldn’t be a complete fast as long as I was researching for “Remembering ‘The Walking Man’ of Chicago.” I want to do it again soon.
Would you ever do a media fast? Could you or someone you love benefit from a media fast, but you don’t know how to broach the subject? May I suggest sharing a newsletter with them!?
stray intent
I want to develop a sense of community this year. Last year was scattered. I planted a lot of seeds, and I found the garden bed too crowded for any one crop to grow. We settled down as humans when we explored agriculture, and our gratitude spurred the concept of an earth goddess. Here I am, trying to honor my inner goddess AND keep a limited connection to the land and the people around me.
an idea i’d like to follow up on
I’d like to record people telling jokes. Not stand up. Nor my own jokes. Random people on the street. I’ll set up a table and a microphone on a busy stretch of sidewalk, and say I’m here to record the humor of the neighborhood for the public record/good. Maybe a common theme comes up per neighborhood?
This is partly inspired by stumbling on a podcast of jokes a few weeks ago. I don’t remember the name. For 15 minutes, an automated text-to-speech voice tells jokes to a relentless laugh track. The layers of artificiality (a fake voice performing for a fake audience,) bookended and interspersed with ads, led me to wonder about the oral tradition of jokes. I find the jokes that stick with me the longest are the ones told to me in person or otherwise have a personality attached (ie, jokes online told by established personalities or your friend reposting tweets on facebook.) The cold mechanical joke podcast had some bangers, but alas, they did not stick.
Even though I have time right now, my energy is low. If you like this idea, I’ll accept any atta ‘ems and general encouragement!
weekly poem: a tanka blessing
the winter air flits
on the frozen lake’s surface.
below it, your new year.
Rest and restore in this one
hundred percent clear liquid.
that’s all
Thanks for reading. More reflections next week. If you’d like this, there are many ways you can support Turtles All The Way Up. Heart it, comment, subscribe, compliment a flower, whatever. You can also send alms via Venmo - @EmHaverty.