The first day of the sabbatical I didn't change out of my pajamas. I noted in my journal with a start at the end of the day:

In bed, legs up the wall, to read. Just realized I didn't change out of pjs all  day. 10:30P July 1

This July, during a month-long retreat, I was logged out of Twitter, no cheating. But at first I kept tweeting. The tweets were analog, hand-written. I analog tweeted every few minutes at the start of the month, then every few hours. Then every few days. By the 24th (my last analog entry) the updates came four days apart.

I started the month riding every thought wave. Any time a thought appeared I wrote it down. By the end of the month I was watching thoughts without attaching to them, and they had less of a grip on me. I was practicing moment to moment mindfulness, reading books start to finish (rather than my previously preferred simul-reading), sitting - and by the 16th of the month, something deep within me clicked.

Slow Steep

Thoughts of being productive dropped away. Thoughts of immediacy dropped away. I slowed down to drink tea - and I drank a lot of it at first. I drank so much tea I wrote a poem about it.

Slowing down

Letting the water cool from boiling

for a slow steep

the leaves unfurl

not shocked into steep,

but invited to it.

Prior to July I frequently scorched my tea. I drink loose leaf tea and would pour boiling water on it rather than let the water cool down. Impatiently wanting to "get on with being productive" I'd damage the tender leaves. Now, I let the water cool from the boil. What a difference it makes! I get a delicate steep. I delight in the full flavor profile, rather than tasting only bitterness.

At the risk of overextending the metaphor, I'm enjoying a slower steep in all engagements. Starting with engaged listening.

Engaged Listening

Definitely feel like I've died digitally. Like, if you're not producing content for the Web do you still exist? 4:09P July 7

In July I started listening differently. To enable a deeper practice, I didn't leave the house for days at a time. I did something quite out of the ordinary for me. I dropped out of social life altogether. I listened closely to myself. I listened to my internal cadences. And here's the thing. I wasn't listening for something. I was just showing up to listen.

During a Library Day in junior high we participated in a lecture on listening. Until that day, I didn't know listening was a skill. The guest teacher asked us how much we though we listened compared to how much we spoke. Most of us figured we talked 20 percent of the time and listened the other 80. Turns out we had it completely backwards. Most of us talk more than we listen. And we hear more often than listening, too. I left the class telling my classmates I wanted to grow up to be a professional listener.

This month I reconnected with that desire to listen deeply. I remembered what it's like to listen with intention. I practiced first with myself and then by turning my attention wholly onto the other (once I finally left the house. After changing out of my pjs, naturally). I found space to be still inside myself, to allow thoughts to arise, but not to engage them, while listening. I practiced engaging with myself and in conversation, with empathy.

The more I reflect on it, I'm not sure that's scalable. I know for sure that trying to listen to four thousand folks (on Twitter, for instance) all at once isn't just impossible. It's unsustainable and makes my heart race.

Pulling out completely let me reflect on how I want to be listening online and off. (The way? With discernment.)

The Pace

"The idea of the asana is to calm you to prepare you to move at a human pace, not the pace of electrons on the computer." - Judith Hanson Lasater

The pace changes the moment you log out.

You full belly breathe.

You full face smile.

You full attention write.

You can't help it. You trade in being responsive for being reflective.

Water Bugs and Deep Dives

Occurs to me we're living in a veritable minefield of unexpressed feelings and needs, as humans. My hope is each day I'll get a bit more skilled at navigating it. No time noted, July 13

My intention, going forward, is to connect engaged listening, skillful action and a human pace with my digital interactions. I want to go a step further than I went in July. In July I cultivated myself, for myself. I took deep dives. I had dreams that I actually remembered upon waking. That I slowed down to write about. 

In August, and going forward, I want to keep with the deep dives and extend to include you in this work, in the practice. I want to help you witness the water bugs skirting the surface without constantly engaging them. You don't have to answer every email. (You don't.) Who told you you did? You don't have to respond emotionally to each tweet that includes your name.

I believe it's possible to be engaged without subdividing your attention. My intention, and the line that runs through my work, will be to show you how by living it myself.

Gratitude 

I want to close by expressing my gratitude to those of you who sent postcards, letters and emails of solidarity. If you wrote and included a return address, I have written, or will write, back.

I want to thank Joel for listening to stories I'd never told, and for reflecting back to me the changes he witnessed as the month went on. I want to thank Bryce and Amber for opening their home for me to engage in playful discovery. I am grateful to Patrick for near-daily check-ins. I'm grateful to Kaileen Elise for, as I noted in my analog Twitter record, being a "fucking rockstar" and ceaselessly updating me on the state of the social Web. My gratitude goes to my clients who made this July one of my business's most profitable months to date.  

Tenderhearted Observation

Those of you with whom I engage on or off the Web, you make life what it is now. I'm filled with gratitude to have had the opportunity to pull away from my apps and digital traps for a month and take stock of what matters.

I'm equally filled with humility, curiosity and happiness to return.

I believe that to create intimate spaces in the (digital) world, we have to first be tender and intimate with ourselves. We have to cultivate spaces of retreat within ourselves, and extend from there. We have to observe our addictions with a tender heart. We have to cultivate awareness by sitting and observing ourselves.

To fully be present online, we have to be fully ourselves offline.

I can't squeeze (nor do I want to squeeze) everything I discovered in July into one post. Like tea leaves, I'll let it unfurl as it will. To give the experience time to slow steep. From now on, I'm making the decision to dive deep with you.