I gave up FB for Lent. My use had become increasingly toxic. When I saw Ash Wednesday on the calendar, I thought Lent was a perfect opportunity to exercise some discipline. I knew I needed to put my focus more on God than on something that had become an idol.
For the most part, I have stuck to my spiritual practice. While it’s true I have occasionally viewed the feed and I have continued to post my blog updates via Hootsuite, for the most part I have not been active on FB for two months. I haven’t posted any mundane status updates, kept up with people’s lives, or interacted on threads. At first, not doing so felt weird, lonely, and irritating. And then like with everything of late, I found myself surrendering to the emptiness and not fighting it so hard.
Prior to the fast, I’d become one of those people who checks her FB phone app constantly. I also had become one of those individuals who logs onto FB the minute I opened my eyes in the morning. Gone were the days of leisurely making a cup of coffee, being with myself (and/or others if with loved ones), and slowly letting my brain wake up. Instead, checking on what other people were doing usurped my serenity.
It’s not that FB is bad or that people using FB compulsively and habitually is any of my business. But my own FB use had become my business. I knew my FB use was no longer working for me.
Being off FB meant I had to sit with myself more than I have in a long time. I had more time to read, more time to write, more time to pray, and more time to cry. I had to acknowledge that aspects of my career need focus and that this is going to entail attention and risk taking. I also realized that my social network in the flesh and blood needs some serious revamping and that when going through hard times, texts with emoticons from people are absurd forms of comfort. We are souls living in human bodies that need to hear voices, see people’s eyes, and be touched skin to skin. What I realized is that we are living in an increasingly abstract, cut off world. We seem to have more time to post selflies than we do maintain true relationships. After all, posting a selfie takes one minute. A conversation can take an hour. Very few of us have an hour anymore.
It’s easy to joke and play on social media. It’s witty, fun, and ego-gratifying. But it’s like candy vs. meat and potatoes. If we are to have long term, committed relationships with friends and family, it means we actually have to spend time with folks in a focused, unplugged manor. And if we are to have an intimate relationship with ourselves, we also have to unplug and sit with our hearts, minds, and souls too. Otherwise, we’re just filling the void and perhaps using others in the process.
Yes, I will re-engage with FB but I will do so much more consciously.
In “Eat, Pray, Love,” Richard tells Liz at the ashram, “If you clear out all that space in your mind…., you’ll have a vacuum there, an open spot – a door way. And guess what the universe will do with that doorway? It will rush in – God will rush in – and fill you with more love than you ever dreamed” (p.150).
As I sit realizing today is Good Friday, I also think of this quote from the same book: “Look for God like a man with his head on fire looks for water” (156). Being off FB taught me that I had disconnected from Living Water and that as a result, I was suffering. On this day that Christ once suffered, I hope to be reminded that in the suffering comes new life. But new life isn’t going to spring from me posting anything on FB. It’s going to come from a much deeper Source.