I’ve been thinking lately about how online business and social media seems to be growing ever faster.
Where one piece of content a week used to be great, now it’s 10+ a day.
And I don’t know how I feel about that.
Well, I do know how I feel.
I feel bewildered and overwhelmed and like I don’t want to create anything at all.
Because if I create, I want it to be honest. And heartfelt. And filled with soul.
I want it to do good in the world, not just good enough.
I want it to have MEANING, not just be air space to fill up a quota.
I read something yesterday which stuck with me.
“Content has become more bite-sized, more consumable, and less nuanced. In a world of decreasing attention spans, brevity is seen as the only way to compete. Importance is placed on the quantity of output rather than quality. Many ‘social media gurus’ teach that success is frequency of contact. Publish or perish. Either you constantly remind the world that you exist, or you will be forgotten.
I’ve spoken with a lot of artists on the Internet who feel burned out by this dynamic. They feel stifled by the treadmill of daily content. It can be impossible to reconcile the demands of social media with the demands of art.
Social media tells you to go quickly. Art tells you to go deep. Social media tells you to replicate what works. Art tells you to experiment. Social media tells you to always be visible. Art tells you to disappear, figure something out, and come back with a discovery worth sharing.
It’s not an easy puzzle for artists to solve.”
This morning I woke up at the butt crack of dawn in my daughter’s bed after a night of musical beds.
It was stifling hot already. I was tired, and I grabbed my phone to have some “me time” in bed.
My daughter came in for a cuddle. I’ve noticed lately I’ve been spending more time on the phone. It has not made me happier, more content or a better mother. So I put the phone down, and I leaned into her, and I leaned into the moment.
And then the dog appeared, wanting breakfast. I fed her, and noticed how much my body wanted to be outside. So I just sat on the verandah, watching ants on the wood, letting the salty, humid air wash over me. My daughter came to sit on my lap, and we watched the ants together. She noticed she had my full attention, and spent long moments telling me everything on her mind.
There’s nowhere else I need to be. Just right here, right now. Here is where life is.
And those few moments filled my heart more than hours on a fucking phone.
I want to create. Deeply and truly.
I want to do it on my own terms.
I want it to be good. Not the equivalent of fast food creativity. I want it to be slow and luxurious, like sex on a Sunday afternoon. Decadent.
And fuck me, I want it to be honest. Searing and human and bountiful.
Quality not quantity.
I just want to share with you the honest and the true.
The moment with the ants. The HONY words.
The acts of creation that birth awareness, that startle you with their presence.
That’s what I want to see. That’s what I want to be.
I took the photo of the wood this afternoon.
The ants were gone, but that moment remained.
I can’t remember what I looked at on my phone last.
It took hours but it gave me nothing.
I want to create something good with this life of my own.
I don’t know what that looks like yet.
I’ll keep exploring. I’ll keep sharing.