I’ve been quiet. Quiet here, for sure, but very quiet today. And, damn, does it feel good…
It’s Sunday. I used to write to you (well, to me and to you) every single Sunday for YEARS. 2020, my “word” for the year was Slow Down. Part of that slowing down was taking the pressure to write every Sunday off. I needed a break, as much as it was hard for me to admit that I couldn’t do it all, all of the time.
I kept that same “word” for 2021. I had plenty more slowing down to do and lessons to reap from that slowing, allowing, and being.
My “word” this year is Inner Peace. I guess I should call it something other than a “word” because clearly I don’t pick just a word— I’m more of a concept guy. But, like Hamlet said to Polonius, “Words, words, words.” The weirdo in me always hears that line to the tune of Motley Crue’s “Girls, Girls, Girls.”
I chose to take today as a phone-free day. Last night, before bed, I powered my phone off. Off-off. Yes, I checked every app. thrice before swiping to shut down… gotta get that last fix… make sure I didn’t miss something important! (Rarely is there something important swinging in those apps… but the potential of something keeps us coming back. That’s a topic that’s both overdone and underdone. We’ll get back to that another day.)
I woke up this morning and saw 6:39 on the clock. The EXACT same time I woke up yesterday. I grabbed Kyle Gray’s Angel Numbers and thumbed for the 639 page. It reads, “You are being encouraged to take time to receive. Sometimes the greatest sense of connection comes from accepting the world as it is before moving forward.” An apt message for my phone-free day.
I think I’ll start January 16th as a tradition of being phone-free. If you’ve been here for a while, you’ll remember my friend J. who passed away several summers ago. January 16th, today, is her birthday. I often kick myself when I remember our last time together. She was in and out of awareness, as the disease that was ravaging her body did its thing, and I spent a great deal of our visit, our last moments together in this lifetime, wrapped up in some nonsense on my phone (short version: a person giving me a hard time about a complicated rescue case). I left J.’s side that day, promising aloud to visit again soon, in my head adding, “because I was barely paying attention to you today.” She died less than an hour after I left her house.
I never got to make up that time, to accept the world with her transitioning, because I allowed distraction. An occasional phone-free day is a cleanse for me, a way to move forward. It’s poetic that I picked her birthday. It’s a tribute that I’ll commit to the tradition… for J., for slowing down, and for inner peace.