A few weeks ago I closed down my Facebook account. Some were irked by it. Only one was emphatically supportive. Many asked why.
My reasons were many, but perhaps on the top of my list was that constant longing to make life more simple so I can more fully enjoy what is true and present and most worthy of my thoughts, emotions, energy.
I'm a Dreamer. I love being a Dreamer, but it also means I struggle to be here. I'm usually a day beyond, if not a year beyond, the today that I should be living. I'm an Intuitive, which means I typically live in another world entirely. A world made solely of ideas and moods and abstracts. I love that world. It's very much home to me.
Yet I have experienced entire days and even weeks slip by without my full and honest presence. I don't need to tell you that children need your true presence, not only your physical presence. And husbands need it too (though they tend to be more understanding and gracious when they too are dreaming intuitives! :)).
As I pondered this (in my home-world of ideas, of course), I became increasingly convicted that the pseudo world of Facebook must come to an end for me. I am not anti-Facebook. But personally, Facebook lured me away from my life and sucked me into edited versions of others' lives. I succumb so easily. And so with very little sadness, I said good-bye.
Just two weeks later, I read this article. "The Joy of Quiet."
Apparently I'm not the only one craving to be more disconnected so that I can more fully connect! I'm not ending this blog, I couldn't survive without a cell phone, I will always have email (because we live thousands of miles away from family and the friends who will always be friends...with our without Facebook), but it's just too easy to escape from the here, the now, the important. Even in the bush of Africa.
Canceling Facebook was a big step. It was the first step. Now I must step again, re-train myself to notice and embrace the gifts before me. To feel, see, taste, hear, smell, be.
And, of course, give thanks. Being present can only be valuable when it leads us to praise the Giver of this moment, of this life. It makes us aware of the holiness of it all, from the undulating patterns of the thatched roof to the teeny curls of little eyelashes to the silence that makes space for the soul to listen to its Maker.
I am on a journey, and this is my challenge to myself.