What I learned in 31 days off-line

There is something about the immediacy, the therapeutic clickity-clack of the typewriter that allows for a different kind of writing. The kind that spills from the heart rather than the head. The kind that’s intended for a single, known reader than an large, unknown audience.
Stepping off-line for 31 days got my hands moving, disciplined me to write every single day with or without a four-month-old and a two-year-old clambering about my knees.
It was a luxury I could afford, being home with the kids and not bound to online work through an out-of-house job. But it was a sacrifice.
I had to say goodbye to my online comforts, my go-to time fillers, google maps and Safari searches.
It made me feel small. It showed me I am small.
It taught me how to trust, that the world keeps on turning without my words, without my likes and dislikes.
It revealed the beauty of unplanned moments, reminding me that chance encounters beat out an online connection any day.
I learned that the smartphone check-ins I make multiple times a day are not actual time savers but time suckers. That if I, as a mama-of-two, want to engage with new ideas, read books, study, create — then I have to save up all of those two minute, one minute, ten minute windows and bank them for things I really want to do. Like write poetry. Phone my Grandma. Skype my sister. Read a book.
I remembered that my children are watching and practicing every move I make. Word and deed. For better or worse.
I discovered a peace, a quietness of mind, that I had been hungering for.

And I learned that snail mail gets people’s attention.

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