After spending hours reading long reads, I suddenly had a burst of desire to create something tangible that others could interact with, such as this blog post.
I was feeling the excitement to type and get something published, feeling the overflow of thoughts and ideas that I could no longer contain inside my head.
I must let the words out.
If time is something I could spend, then the time I spend here is time I can’t spend on another.
Whenever I allow the infinite scroll to consume me for hours, I wouldn’t be as engaged in the creative process as I would when reading an essay or a book. The numbing effect of the infinite scroll feels the same when I eat too much junk—I would just feel bad after finishing the whole pack that’s supposed to be for sharing.
And since I uninstalled the Facebook app from my phone (and the only access I have is to log in via browser), I no longer felt the need to check it out every hour or so, mostly in between workflows which breaks me out of the zone.
You know how hard it is to go back to the flow, right?
I also no longer feel overwhelmed by all the flash news that never runs dry, often sending my brain to hyperactivity reading about and trying to understand what people were saying.
I no longer feel tethered to the invisible forces that oversimplify the complexity of human relations and control narratives that further divide people in the name of freedom of speech.
Nothing gets accomplished with too much talk, only division and bitterness.
If I want to get in touch with the news, I now go to online news outlets and independent journalist sites that are not on Facebook. Because these days, Facebook seems to breed and encourage hate, not totally encouraging deep thinking. Facebook is a place where people always have an agenda which is to convince an unsuspecting reader to commit to a side without giving them room to stand back and think about the issue. Most people are rage commenting, keeping me from really making up my mind about anything.
I don’t even bring myself into rallies because groupthink in crowds is almost always inescapable. So, I might as well steer clear of Facebook, which feeds from dissension. Cutting out through the noise helps me see people beyond the seats they occupy—right or left—and regain my compassion towards humanity and remember that we are all broken people in need of saving.
Withdrawing from the public square, I now find rest in gardening my own space on the world wide web—where people are not pitting against each other. It feels a lot quieter here.
Writing here also feels like going back to my childhood home. I feel at peace and secure. Perhaps I’d stay longer here. And more so, I would be here every day like I used to be.
jessa 