perching lines, no. 12
"Do not be afraid to disappear" and "NOMO: the necessity of missing out"
Hello gentle-people,
I have been digging into my own archives lately. In part because I am gathering nuggets for this book I plan to publish next year. (ICYMI, that’s right—I am writing a book!) Looking back has been a challenge in some ways, as I strive to be tender with past versions of myself.
🐦⬛ about perching lines
A “perch” is a light rest. Much needed in a world where many of us have to learn how to catch a break while standing up. In these lighter posts, I will offer poems, questions, and connections for those brief moments of reprieve. [Explore more in this series.]
“Do no not be afraid to disappear” & #NOMO: “the necessity of missing out”
Before I came to Substack, I had a Patreon. I used it to create bonus content for supporters of my podcast, Dear Soft Black Woman. I did not stick with it for long, since I heard of Substack and decided for various reasons it was a better place for me as a writer. I also did not stick with the podcast for long, since I decided writing was the vehicle I wanted to communicate the ideas I was cultivating.
I think fondly of a Patreon series I started around a 2021 Emmy speech Michaela Coel wrote, speaking directly to writers:
"Write the tale that scares you, that makes you feel uncertain, that is uncomfortable. I dare you.
In a world that entices us to browse through the lives of others to help us better determine how we feel about ourselves, and to, in turn, feel the need to be constantly visible, for visibility these days seems to somehow equate to success.
Do no not be afraid to disappear, from it, from us, for a while, and see what comes to you in the silence."
—Michaela Coel
Dubbing it “The Michaela Coel challenge,” I wrote a series of three reflections, the first one called “contemplate and participate,” published on January 4, 2022. In that reflection, I mentioned a book I only recently just finished reading called How to Do Nothing by Jenny Odell. Odell talks about “the necessity of missing out,” or #NOMO as she abbreviates it and encourages us to turn our attention away from overstimulating devices that cut us off from the world around us.1 I see a similar invitation in Michaela Coel’s Emmy speech—some kind of intention disconnection from our distractions might do us some good.
In my series, Woven: Reflections on the Wonderfully Weird Web, I am talking about how I have been shaped by the internet. I am also offering tools and reflection questions to call us into a more intentional relationship with the web. I am lining the series with confessions, because I feel there is already enough holier-than-thou digital detox or abstention content in these streets. I am not immune to the forces that make it difficult to do this work so as often as I can I will name them.
When I first wrote my reflection on this Michaela Coel series, I was super engaged on Instagram. While I had some practices to help me get offline from time to time, I often could not resist the compulsion to check and see if people were responding to the content I was sharing. I would often get discouraged when I put a lot of time and energy into creating beautiful graphics for IG only to get low engagement in return.
I received Michael Coel’s invitation to disappear—“from it, from us, for a while”—as a chance to come up for air from time to time and “touch grass,” as they say online. But in truth, her advice felt hard to take when I didn’t want to miss out on engaging with folks as I put my work out there. It felt hard to take when I always felt like I was missing out on the social media growth of some of my peers.
I will share more on How to Do Nothing2 in the Woven series to unpack some of the ways that book has helped me hone in on exactly what I might gain from disappearing for awhile. But to honor my journey with Michaela Coel’s quote, I will you on what it looks like now for me to take this advice, again, lined with confessions.
I do not look at my phone for the first 15 minutes of the day, at least. Some of that has to do with maintaining a healthy relationship with dopamine.
I have started every day with morning pages since August of this year. It is the first thing I do after eating breakfast. What I journal there never makes it into what I share online. I let my stream of consciousness thoughts flow out onto the page then I put my notebook away for the next morning.
In the “contemplate and participate post,” I wrote that I don’t really watch the news. I still don’t watch or listen to a lot of news, unless it’s delivered comedically.3 I am still searching for a healthier way to engage world events and am open for suggestions.4
I am always changing my relationship to social media. I am always switching up how I engage and disengage. I am currently disengaged most of the time. I log in once a week to check my messages and send funny memes to my friends. I’ve posted on Threads a couple of times, but I admit I had a longing that I did not sit with long enough for it to lead me to better options for connection.
Included in that changing relationship to social media, is a shift in my relationship to Substack Notes. I have chosen to disengage completely. I feel such an intense overwhelm whenever I accidentally click on the wrong '“home” button and end up on the Notes timeline instead of my publisher’s dashboard. Perhaps I will unpack this anxiety in the series, but for now, it just feels good to name it.
Finally, I am giving meditation a real shot. I have been meditating almost every single morning for a few weeks. Have I noticed any major changes? It’s hard to say right now. The improvements I feel in my ability to focus are slight. But I can feel myself become a bit more tender with my thoughts, and a lot less critical when I get distracted.
I dare you
A lot has changed since 2022. A lot more will change. While I am less concerned about what I am giving up, there is still a fear that comes with embracing Michaela Coel’s challenge and Jenny Odell’s mantra:
I am holding that what makes Michaela Coel's challenge so hard (so hard that she says—"I dare you"—is the fear of silence and quiet. The fear that I will look inward and find nothing of value. The fear that the world (and my people in it) will leave me behind. The fear that when I finally figure out what I want to say, no one will listen. The fear that it will be hard and uncomfortable, as she so rightly names, to say the things that are burning inside me to speak aloud.
Some things haven’t changed, like this hope-dream I have that focuses more on the life I am embracing. A life I am realizing:
I wanna write. I wanna get paid to write. I wanna be introduced as a writer. I wanna hear people in hushed tones outside my office say “don’t disturb Rose, she is writing.” I want conversations that begin with “I read something you wrote recently and…” To hear that and know they’re referring not to a social media post but a place they paid to have access to my words. Is that too wild? Hopefully soon it can move from a hope-dream to find a home in reality. But to get there I cannot cross my fingers: I need them to write.
At the time I wrote those words, there were 14 people subscribed to my Patreon and it amazes me to know I now send my words out to 1400+ people. Talk about living in a hope-dream. Still, sometimes, I gotta get away from y’all to hear my own thoughts—sometimes I have to miss out—so I can find the words that come to me in the silence.
Join me. I dare you.
🐦⬛ Landing Tracks
Edited from the January 2022 prompts: If you are a writer or creative in any capacity, I encourage you to share your reflections on what it means for you to "contemplate and participate." I also want to note that this is not just a call for artistic creatives, but for the creativity we all have within us to access ways of being in this world that remember matter and what matters.
Written for this moment: What does it look like for you to embrace a silence that comes with putting down distractions and devices (and distracting devices)? What thoughts are you running away from? Have you ever tried meditation? If not, what’s keeping you?
Also written for this moment: Though she doesn’t say it in her speech, there’s no reason for you to have to go it alone as you “disappear, from it, from us, for a while.” Who can you tap to go on the journey of seeking intentional creative rest with? Can you and a friend plan a digital detox? Maybe you can bookend your disappearances with intentional appearances at gatherings or with those who gather you.
Odell, Jenny. How to Do Nothing: Resisting the Attention Economy, 22-23.
Which I should name, isn’t about how to do literally nothing, but could be said to be about contributing nothing to the apps on our phones that
Given what Neil Postman says in Amusing Ourselves to Death about televised news, I am okay with leaning all the way in accepting the news as a form of entertainment.
My current way of engaging is passively when my housemate plays it on her phone while she’s cooking and cleaning in the kitchen.
This resonated deeply. I remember watching Michaela’s speech. I thought “how brave!” And felt directly challenged and called out. It launched me on a journey that’s changed my relationship with social media entirely. What I have noticed tho is how easily my brain falls into the trap with a new platform. For ex, I found myself starting to check Substack the way I used to IG or Twitter- compulsively. All of these platforms are built for addiction. When I step away from them I find myself more content with my little life and more creative all around, and I’m learning to not try to replace the time off social with something else (like Netflix). Empty space is good, but can be oh so daunting.
Rose I feel you because this is me currently. I'm dialing back on how much I show up on the apps and making more time for me. The need to make more mental and physical space for myself. ♥️