The things I cannot do anymore.
Tried 'em. Done.
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Social media.
You might argue that Substack is a form of social media and that’s okay. Long form sharpens writing skills and widens my reading audience, so Substack is a great place where dedicated readers and writers can hang out. I don’t participate in Notes or other social media and haven’t for years. Twitter was my go-to — such a clever, funny distraction — but X is locked to non-subs. Overall, social media was a time drain and since its creators built it to encourage addiction — which they admit — it took awhile to clear the jangling from my nervous system. It also hasn’t been the detriment to my business, as I once feared. Once you build a loyal client list that comes from years of traction, social media is more of a desire than need.
Smartphones.
I haven’t owned a smartphone for 6? years. Maybe 7. It’s been awhile. For a decade, I’ve said that smartphones are redundant and we’ll be telepathic and connected to a grid. Now that those lovely scuba goggles are here, that day has come. Soon enough, it will be universal brain chips connected to the grid. As for being redundant, anyone with an Apple product can call for free (FT/VoiP) — and I enjoy being the only person on the street or restaurant who does not have a phone hanging from their ears, eyes or belts. No knock on those who do — they are certainly helpful in an emergency — but there are other products to use for that (car sat phones, etc). There was a time that smartphones didn’t exist and I survived — somehow.
Store bought bread, nut milks, creamers and nut butters.
I’ve used the last few years to enhance my skills in the kitchen — and I’m really happy with the results. I’ve always enjoyed cooking but now I’ve expanded that to include all of my GF/vegan bread, nut milks/creamers (oat, almond and cashew) and butters (almond or cashew). It is SO easy to make all of them and probably quicker than schlepping to the store, plus they are minus preservatives, salt, sugar, containers and pervasive plastic caps that only end up in a landfill for hundreds of years. I know what’s in my stuff because I put it there.
Careless plastic.
I tend to avoid huge supermarkets, though I am so grateful for the overabundance of food we have in America. The other day, I went to a large one and was horrified by the amount of plastic. Just plastic encased around everything. I get that food has to travel and needs to be preserved but it only makes me plot out a larger garden for next year and support farmer’s markets when possible. I avoid fast food and drive through coffee — though I had a rare Starbucks the other day and . . . never again. First, their products aren’t organic and all I did was stare at the lid, thinking that it will probably last longer than my life on the planet. I think the true societal breakdown happened when we gave up ceramic and good china!
Cities.
If you knew me in earlier times, it would be unthinkable that I’d make such a statement. I loved New York. LOVED. When I left even for a week, I couldn’t wait to get back. But like my extensive personalities who require their own pair of boots, I need different places to nourish my soul. I’ve travelled extensively, moved more than most in a lifetime and have experienced cities, country, mountains, farms, suburbs, remote woods, coastal. I’ve lived in bougie, boring and bust. No matter how dazzling and modern, I’ll never live in a city again. What my soul requires for the remainder of this ride is deep Nature. Though NYC and other cities impress me with rising consciousness towards pollinators, gardens and eco-housing, it’s a teaspoon compared to what I have and will have. When I sleep at night, all I hear is Nature singing. When I wake up, all I hear is Nature calling — and the occasional ding of my work calendar — and type this as the cicadas rattle. No sirens. No strip malls. I love the Internet, good restaurants, the occasional trip into “society” and would be sad to give it up. If I lost Nature, I’d be dead — literally. If I had to pin myself down, I’d say that I was always a hippie homesteader who had to take a journey — or 20? — just to come home. Visit a city? Sure. Live? Never. My homes may change but I’ll always be surrounded by deep Nature.