Wednesday, June 13, 2012

50 Ways To Leave Your Longing


Today I deactivated my Facebook account.  It wasn't the first time and it might not be the last (although I hope it is).  I take very long breaks from it and end up back at a time when I feel disconnected or am longing to find someone with whom I regret losing touch.  Every time I'm there, staring, jaw-clenched, unblinking, at the screen, I am lost.  I am lost to myself, I am lost to the world, given to absolute mindlessness and disconnect.  When I come away, always abruptly as if waking from self-induced open-eyed coma, I feel empty and less happy.  I'd very rarely say I've come away with any sense of joy or fulfillment.  More often I come away feeling like an unrightful voyeur of other people's lives.  I feel like I've taken something that was not directly given to me; a thief of moments and thoughts and experiences not truly shared with intention.  Certainly not truly shared with me or for me, Chelsea Lynn Boyd.

This is not living.  This is not friendship.  This is not connection.  I am sure of this.

I long for connection and love because I am human.  The internet has crafted very alluring ways to supplement this human longing so that we don't have to leave our home, or our pajamas, or even brush our teeth.  We can design our images without ever doing more than typing a status update and carefully choosing the photographs we take from our iPhones.  We can create the image of a life full of thousands of friends and meaningful connections without ever even opening our mouths to utter a single word.  This scares me.

I know that being in the world can be scary. And I know that it can take a lot of work to maintain relationships, especially when one half of the relationship is still depending on tools like Facebook, Twitter, and email to know the details of another person's life.  But the truth as far as I'm concerned is: We aren't meant to have that many friends.  People are supposed to move fluidly in and out of our lives.  We are supposed to let go and make room and cherish the people we learn to love while they are present to us.  We have permission to let them go when the time comes.  We are technically required to let them go, even, or else everyone suffers to a degree.

It was scary to let go.  I'm no hero.  I am as afraid as anyone else to lose people I know and cherish.  But I'm willing to abandon that longing if it means that I will be more present to myself and the world around me, more available to the people who are in my life willfully and intentionally, and if it forces me to put more effort and authenticity into the interactions I share with people on a more personal level.  There will be loss, but there always is when we decide to live life more deeply.

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