More Analog, Less Digital
a list for a deeper sense of connection
I’m back in your inboxes with a bonus post for this week. I’ve been writing a lot as a form of self discovery and self education. Some of what I’m writing feels worthy of sharing. I hope you enjoy!
I don’t notice this during the summer because I’m spending more time outside. Our main source of connecting with our world is digital. We share vague and curated updates on social media, so our friends, often even our best friends, don’t reach out. We send text messages instead of making a phone call to send birthday wishes or congratulations. We refresh our emails multiple times a day. Notifications light up our phones every minute of the day for things we have no connection to and yet we *must* check them. I’m not in the market for a house, but my phone lit up with a Zillow notification while I am typing and I almost removed my fingers from this keyboard to take a look.
We forgo the woods because we fear what we will miss when our phones are out of range of service.
In the summer this reality is easy to ignore. I spend 80% of my time with dirt caked on my hands and under my finger nails. I remain grounded. I’m more physically active. I’m outside until 9 pm. My lifestyle provides a built-in counter balance of the digital.
But now, in November, I am grateful for this conscious wariness of the digital and the intentional pull to the analog. To go offline. To disconnect. Oh, wait. I actually mean reconnect. With my ancestors, my legacy, the land, my mind, my body, and my community. Rewilding myself to belong in nature, as I am.
Most of us associate the difference between analog and digital with clocks. Analog is information that is transmitted through waves. Digital is information that is transmitted through 1s and 0s (binary). For the purpose of this post,
analog is
flow
the in between
coexistence
continuous
unknown
story
digital is
binary
screens
singularity
static
known
facts
This topic has been on my mind for a few weeks now, and I’ve been inventorying when I feel most connected. I’m not immune to scrolling, checking views or watching my follower count. I, too, seek connection. And I’m realizing that I’m often too hyper fixated on the wrong place. The wrong activities. The digital forms of connection that our society has curated are showy, bold, loud and colorful, but they’re also fleeting. Here’s what I’ve noticed:
ancestors
forgo the machine, and use your hands
I was kneading sourdough by hand on my kitchen counter the other day. I don’t know for sure that any of my ancestors baked sourdough. I assume they did. I come from a long line of farmers and homesteaders. Maybe my great grandma kept her children alive during the great depression by feeding them bread baked with wild yeasts. These are the thoughts that I have while I work with my hands.
I was recently introduced to the idea of mythic time. In William Faulkner’s writing, mythic time is when a past event becomes present again during ritual. I learned of the concept in Becca Piastrelli’s book Root and Ritual, which I highly recommend if this post speaks to you. In the moments described above, I experience mythic time. My hands become my grandmother’s when I roll out pie dough. I hear her voice from somewhere behind me in the kitchen telling me not to work it too much, and suddenly I’m 6, 10, 15, 21. Time is no longer linear.
legacy
writing down recipes
I’ve been recording my recipes in handwritten notebooks since I was a senior in college. I’m not going to do the math, but at this point I have many notebooks full of many of my recipes. I’ve known that my legacy is as the recipe keeper long before I became a mom . These notebooks are how I will live on for generations to come.
I’ve recently started to add anecdotes to the recipes. Sure, the recipes themselves hold value, but what if my great-great-great-great grandchild is having an existential crisis and opens up one of my handwritten recipe books and reads a note about a soup I made with squash that I grew and instead of being presented with only a simple list of ingredients, they read a note about how I was in need of warmth because my heart was feeling cold, I had snapped at my children and my patience was running thin, that I let despair creep too far and was seeking the medicine of warm soup to bring me back to myself?
I happen to be the recipe keeper for both my mom and dad’s mothers, so I know that if I had this kind of note attached to the recipes they saved and cooked for their families, reading it and cooking that recipe would feel like a balm to my soul.
land
plant a seed
I could wax poetic about how this entire post and my current spiritual journey is the effect of planting a single seed, but I’ll spare you (for now).
body
cooking in a cauldron
Our bodies are sustained by the food that we consume. We’re conditioned to pour food from a box or crack open a can. We choose ignorance, knowing that some of our favorite foods aren’t contributing to our vitality at all. Many people that I talk to outside of homesteading have expressed fear over foraged foods and wildcrafted products. The irony is that the danger is actually in the bright packaging, infinitely available, addictive, empty calories that have redefined our idea of food. The danger is in the ease of consumption.
This is why I love the homegrown life. I love to make, or try to, what I consume. Whether it’s food, cleaning supplies, beauty or body care products, or my clothing, I know that I will find a deeper appreciation for it. I’ve decided that it’s not worth it to make it on my own for many things this way, but I never forget what goes into it.
Cooking from scratch has helped me develop an even deeper respect for the food that nourishes me. I’ve recently been using my “cauldron” style cast iron and it’s as if the pan itself is imbuing my food with healing magic.
mind
set intentions with the cycle of the moon
I’ve created a pretty consistent habit of setting intentions with the full moon. I typically do a little research on how people have celebrated this particular full moon for centuries, pull a tarot card or two, and ask myself what topics or themes have been present in my life lately. I usually form a couple of questions to journal on and perform the ritual of writing, setting out moon water, and anything else that feels appropriate, like flowers or soil or seeds or rocks.
These intentions have been really powerful for me. They’ve provided me with some very small, but clear revelations over the last few months. I’m looking forward to adding a new moon ritual, and building up this practice with more intention.
community
gather
Sounds simple, right? Each time I’m presented with an opportunity to gather in-person I have to give myself a bit of a peptalk, or unfortunately, just decide to stay home. I love my home, I love my children, I love my husband. I love curling up in bed with my books. I love walking barefoot to the garden and cooking a meal in my home. I love caring for my animals. All of this love can make it difficult to choose to be away from it all, even for an hour.
But, community is circular. We cannot be part of it without also showing up for it.
For my birthday in March I went out on a limb and threw myself a garden party. I invited plant friends, many whom I had never met in person, to my home to snack, talk, drink tea, and paint little clay pots. It was a beautiful gathering and it filled me with so much joy. I was so honored that these folks all left the comfort of their lives to provide me with love and comfort.
I’ve thought about curating this type of gathering seasonally, but honestly it was so much work. I thought the event might inspire some of the guests to do the same, but no one did.
Instead of making gathering such a production, we should approach it from an everyday perspective. Release the need for cleaning, special food or full meals. Release expectation, and therefore most of the burden associated with gathering. These are the principles of women’s circles.
My goal for 2025 is to host monthly garden groups. Not necessarily a women’s circle, but definitely pulling from this idea for inspiration. We’ll meet in public places, so no one person is burdened with hosting. We’ll have themes that go along with the seasons. It will be a space for collective growth and learning.
I could (& maybe I will make a series out of this) produce a lengthy list for each of these categories. I’m often struck with how authors include the most simple actions to drive their points home or provide an applied approach to their writing. I’m not presenting this in a revelatory way, but rather to highlight the fact that deeper connection is already something brewing deep within our self. We do not need to redefine our lives to find this connection. We do not need to suffer a midlife crisis or undergo an identity change. These are all steps that are not only accessible, but they’re basic (in a good way).
You may have noticed that many of these practices are related. The practice of sensing into deeper connection is a layered practice. I shared a recap of the Seed Folk Gathering this week and one of my big takeaways of that event was the concept of disembodiment as shared by Erika Galentin. I’m guilty of it in this post, although consciously. We often talk about the mind and the body as separate entities, but they are inseparable. Instead we should be talking of the self. As I worked on this post I realized that all of these categories - ancestors, legacy, land, body, mind, community - are all pillars of self. This practice is a gathering of all the pieces of ourselves that we have lost, ignored, or forgotten.
Sometimes we simply need the reminder. An awakening. This list is like an alarm clock that we typically snooze, but for some reason decide that today’s a great day for waking up on time.
Book Recommendations based on this topic (*affiliate link)
Root and Ritual by Becca Piastrelli
Living Resistance by Kaitlin B Curtice
Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer
Women Who Run with Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estes