Socials Free

     It feels like eons since I started this blog to document my process of using art to heal and live creatively. During that pre-Covid era when I was really creatively thriving and growing. Since Covid, since becoming pregnant with Zora, I'd felt more like I'm surviving as opposed to thriving as I'm sure many people feel as well. Lately, I've noticed just how much I've come to rely on social media, especially Instagram, since Covid - to keep in touch, to check out, to decompress. Even before Covid I spend more time on it than I'd like to admit, but, as I've heard about the effects of Covid it really does seems to be the great accelerator. So many things have become clear, people are moving forward, or backward, in very decisive ways. Divorces, job changes, relocation, babies, deaths, big changes in peoples life one way or another. One thing that's really stuck out to me in the smaller, yet big, kind of changes is feeling the need to get away from social media. I've been obsessed with World War II era books, with Hemingway and Fitzgerald and, more fascinating, the story of their wives. I cannot get over the tech free life everyone lived during those times. The ability to be unreachable, unavailable. The time letters allowed, the time not having a device in your hand allowed people to be in their head, process, let their brain wander, let ephifinies and creative genius to strike. In Postmistress in Paris and Still Life, the time that people just sat around talking about art, about life philosophies, asking questions about each other just hit me so hard. It feels as if, with all this tech, we're missing out on some of the good, rich, ultimately human experiences of life. Things my soul craves. Connection, real life connection. Meaningful interaction. Mental stimulation. Art. Pushing that edge.

    A few months ago I read half of Digital Minimalism. Only half because once he got to the 'give up as much tech as possible for a month' part I put it off. It feels like such a huge jump. FOMO takes over. But after a few months, going longer and longer using less tech here and there, I just, I'm here for it in 2022. I want to see what creative pursuits come out of it. What thoughts I have. What real life interactions unfold. I have a great number of friends who don't live where I do and I feel like I'm missing out on sharing life with them - I love social media for that - but get so overwhelmed with other things I get bombarded with. Such as the comparison game. Ugh, once you start to notice how much comparison social media brings into your life, it just gets uglier and uglier. I think the thing that somehow feels important (which I'm sure I'll dig into a some point), but there's this thing in me that wants to put things into to the world. Maybe to be seen and heard, especially as a stay at home mom lacking that seen and heard aspect. But also sometimes my thoughts just feel so big, my feelings so big, I sense there are other people sharing in that. To put it out there always makes me feel less alone and hopefully, others feel less alone. I'm also in this mindset of collaboration. Of minds coming together to overcome all this craziness of the world. Working together. Talking things out. Sharing, vulnerably and openly. I want it in real life. As much as possible. Or even voice messages on WhatsApp, ha. Collaboration might be one of my 2022 words.

    But, I digress. That's my dreams. What's happening in the current moment of not being on socials and trying, in general, to be off my phone much more, is slower moments. The other day, there was about 20 minutes before Zora's nap, chores done, just down time. Usually I'd hit instagram, Marco Polo or WhatsApp, but not doing that I noticed the light coming in the window. Noticed how Zora, like a cat, just laid in the sliver of warmth on the floor. I had to grab my camera and play around with it. This is what I want time to do. I've always loved photography but have never really gotten serious about honing my skills. Mainly because iPhones with a good camera came out. But to grab my Fuji camera and play around with the settings and angles, capturing the light, her personality, her smile. Ah, it felt so good. 

 

 

    I've been totally immersed in Z: A Novel of Zelda Fitzgerald and with it, all the art and french culture. The time and place that she lived in was truly incredible. France in the late 20s, consciousness raising among the artists, especially the women, ugh, what a dream. Albeit difficult to implement as Zelda's life portrays. But ah the art, the ideas, PARIS. I can get lost in thoughts of feminism, in the process of art and creating, in the mind and body connection, in croissants and espresso, in fashion, in personal style. I love it all. Fashion and personal style have also been a thing that feels like Covid (and pregnancy/postpartum) have taken from me. The why-bother attitude when you're at home most of the time. But fashion and personal style have always been a huge thing to me. I love it. The expression of it. Wearable art and all that.  Feeling something in me tug me towards getting dressed, expressing myself that way also feels very good. This morning the french vibes were so strong and I had 25 minutes to kill before my grocery pick up after school drop off, so I took Zora to Swedish Hill, got a chocolate croissant and espresso and slowly enjoyed it as I sat next to the bakery and espresso machine. Old men in sweater vests sat chatting. In the old men you can spot that lingering ideal, all of them reclining in their chairs, laughing here and there while sipping their coffee, waving at a flirty baby. Never once was a phone pulled out. I want that. To linger, to discuss without distraction from a 'bing', from a text or notification. It does happen with certain friends, that's true, but I can't help but imagine it all the time. 

    Also thinking about the way having our phones, always knowing exactly what time it is and how that makes us a slave to time. I feel this especially now as a mom. With drop offs, nap times, getting back into teaching spin, pick ups, dinner, bedtime. It feels like my life is defined by time. How do I make that chill out a bit? Is that even possible? I fantasize about leisure. To come and go without time restraints or requirements. I'm not sure if that's technology or just the world we live in? More and more I'm drawn to two things. Nature and living so close to everything I do that I can walk (or bike when the kids are older) and how that walkability feels like slower life to me. I feel like these two things don't actually go hand in hand. Nature and walkability. They are what I crave and currently what I'm - mostly - appreciatively living, but also know we're sizing out of our small urban, yet nature drenched, dwelling, and I don't want to give that up. Someone tell me it's possible without ridiculous amounts of money because I might die trying to make it work, ha.

 

    Anyway. Here are my rambling thoughts as of late, what books have been influencing me and some pictures I've been taking. Also, Foeller turned 5 and I found a video of baby two year old Foeller telling me in his baby talk he loved me and I totally melted down. Lately he's mostly been screaming how much he hates me (he's big feelings that one and the transition with Zora's arrival hasn't been easy) and I spiraled into the complexity of motherhood. How they age and change and I love who they are now, but long for the ease of SOME of the things of them being smaller. Like their love was abundant. The neck squeezes and 'I love yous'. Parenting in general has felt really hard during covid and the addition of a third child. Mainly navigating the middle childs emotions has been tricky. Also technology usage and feeling like the older one is entering a new big kid era and having to learn how to navigate the new things he's doing/wanting to do and how to relate. Parenting has been a real learning curve, a real stretch and mirror to myself. That's been fun. But I read a T.S. Eliot quote the other day that resonated so hard. I'll leave you with that.  

    "If you aren't in over your head, how do you know how tall you are?" - T. S. Eliot