My Creativity is Broken. Is Yours?

I’ve broken from my own conventions. After writing and publishing every day for several months, after building an entire routine around the practice, I found myself in a pandemic rut. COVID came and with it a by-God dry spell set in.

This is not to say I didn’t write. I pecked out words here and there, words about the pandemic and the election and what it means to be sober in it all. I shared both depth and pith on Instagram, Twitter, and in Newsletters. But that marvelous streak of daily writing died. I held no funerals. I said no eulogies.

I’m clawing back some attempt to come back to the page more with more regularity, particularly in light of the fact that the election is—cross your fingers and hope-to-God—over. In the first spate of writing, I hope to explore why creating (something, anything) is important in this age of burn-it-down insanity. I hope you’ll join me. I hope you’ll invite others to join. More than anything, I hope you’ll set your mind to creating regularly.

Expect to see new pieces on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. In this week’s series, I’ll explore the power of creativity, particularly in an age of deconstruction. I hope you’ll join me.

DON’T GO JUST YET

If there’s one regret I have about The Book of Waking Up, it’s that I didn’t realize just how addicted we are to politics at the time of its writing. I suppose I understood it at a macro level, but this election cycle has exposed a much deeper addiction. If you haven’t picked up a copy, please do, and consider just how the framework of waking up applies to our political addictions. Then, chart a course for true political sobriety.

On Political Sobriety: Part III

I’m continuing my series, “On Political Sobriety.” You can read Part I in my Newsletter and Part II by following this link.

"I'm worried that with our nation so divided and election results potentially taking days or weeks to be finalized there is a risk of civil unrest."

~Mark Zuckerberg

During a break in our meeting—a liminal space generally reserved for small talk in business circles—the executive leaned in and said, “This has the potential to get ugly.” A rational woman, a business leader and thoughtful executive who’s leary of extreme rhetoric, she is not the sort to be swayed by media fear-mongering. She is a thinker, a vision caster, and her field of expertise is—in one sense or another—influencing markets. So, when these words came tumbling out as we discussed American politics, I sat up straight. And from there, the conversation devolved.

Coup (even if short-lived).

Secession (even if only attempted).

Revolution (even if only in pockets).

We discussed potentials previously thought possible only by the tinfoil-hat-wearing crowd. We found no resolution.

I’ve had more than a dozen conversations like this in the last two weeks with thoughtful, middle-of-the-road, freedom-loving Americans. The People (yes) are wearing their concern on their sleeves. Concern for the demagogues, the extremists, the broken media apparatus, the inmates who are running our two-party asylums. Concern for their families who’ve gone all-in on divisive ideologies. Concern for their businesses, their employees, their children. America—we’re beginning to boil over.

We’re in desperate need of a new imagination for American leadership. We’re not getting it from the major parties. We’re not getting it from the media (as if that’s the job of impartial journalism). We’re not getting it from the corporations who fund the status quo. And so, it must come back to the people, which is to say to you and me.

As we enter this season, commit to leading a non-violent, non-partisan, non-rhetorically-divisive resistance in your own community. Commit to gathering your neighbors, friends, and family into a more sober-minded, more unifying vision of America. How? Let’s revisit the way of political sobriety (third time’s the charm):

  • Turn from prayer for a political outcome and turn to prayer for something like familial healing;

  • Turn from monstrous language, from the sort of name-calling that leads to further division;

  • Pray for an understanding about how your neighbor could vote for a different political party than the one you prefer, and enter an honest dialogue about those decisions;

  • Impute best intent to your political opposite until you can no longer impute best intent;

  • When you can no longer impute best intent, address the evils of this political cycle (racism, abortion, etc.) with clear, fact-based language;

  • Refuse violence of any means (whether in speech or action), and if some action must be taken, prepare to act in peace.

As we enter what’s sure to be a tumultuous handful of weeks, consider how you can live politically sober in an age of ideological inebriation. Consider how you can lead those around you into a more peaceful resistance against the looming strife. Make it a way of life and invite others into it.

I want to hear from you.

What are you seeing in your own community? What kinds of political conversations are you hearing? How are you acting to lead others into a new political imagination? Email me and let me know.

DON’T GO JUST YET

If there’s one regret I have about The Book of Waking Up, it’s that I didn’t realize just how addicted we are to politics at the time of its writing. I suppose I understood it at a macro level, but this election cycle has exposed a much deeper addiction. If you haven’t picked up a copy, please do, and consider just how the framework of waking up applies to our political addictions. Then, chart a course for true political sobriety.

On Political Sobriety: Part II

We’re moving into the last week of a fraught season. Yesterday, I sent a newsletter to my Substack subscribers, in which I called for political sobriety as we draw to the close of the 2020 election. If you haven’t read the newsletter, follow this link.

In the last 48 hours, I’ve had a handful of conversations in which the person on the other side of the table invoked the very real concern that our country is headed into a season of violence. I cannot say whether this is melodrama or a legitimate possibility, but the fact my friends on both sides of the aisle are discussing it as a less than remote potential is, in a word, sobering.

Consider what’s in a word.

Sobering, adj., so·​ber·​ing | \ ˈsō-b(ə-)riŋ: Tending to make one thoughtful or sober.

Marx said, “Die Religion ... ist das Opium des Volkes,” often translated as “Religion is the opium of the masses.” Maybe Marx is right. Perhaps, though, in modern America, we’ve substituted identity groups, self-interest, ideological hate, and political opinion for religion. Put another way, what if we’re so drunk on politics that we cannot see past our need for our favorite fix.

I’ve learned a few things in my 43 cycles around the sun, and among them is this: Addictive behavior harms both the addict and their neighbor. And as we make our way to the rock bottom of our political addiction, I cannot help but think that harm is on the horizon.

I’m asking you to wake from your political addiction. How? Consider the steps I laid out yesterday:

  • Turn from prayer for a political outcome and turn to prayer for something like familial healing;

  • Turn from monstrous language, from the sort of name-calling that leads to further division;

  • Pray for an understanding about how your neighbor could vote for a different political party than the one you prefer, and enter an honest dialogue about those decisions;

  • Impute best intent to your political opposite until you can no longer impute best intent;

  • When you can no longer impute best intent, address the evils of this political cycle (racism, abortion, etc.) with clear, fact-based language;

  • Refuse violence of any means (whether in speech or action), and if some action must be taken, prepare to act in peace.

Use these steps to find something like sobriety. Then share them with a family member, community member, or friend. Together, forge a better, more sober way.

DON’T GO JUST YET

If there’s one regret I have about The Book of Waking Up, it’s that I didn’t realize just how addicted we are to politics at the time of its writing. I suppose I understood it at a macro level, but this election cycle has exposed a much deeper addiction. If you haven’t picked up a copy, please do, and consider just how the framework of waking up applies to our political addictions. Then, chart a course for true political sobriety.


Strangely Different - A Reader's Near-Death Story

Yesterday, I asked whether any of you had a near-death experience, a sort of resurrection story. It seemed like a stretch, but because I have the most interesting readers in the world, I thought I’d take a shot. The shot paid off.

Lisa responded. As a toddler, she had her own near-death experience while in the hospital. And though she doesn’t remember the details, she shared this: “Strangely my parents said I was different. Liked different foods, had a different personality, mannerisms. Like a different person.” The old had passed away and through a sort of resurrection, the new had come.

As I wrote yesterday, we need resurrection stories more than ever. We’re a people in need of belief, in need of hope. And yes, this is true for the people of faith, for the agnostics, and for the atheists. The world is begging for something new, something that rises “strangely… different,” to use Lisa’s words.

Look at the world around you, particularly the most broken places. Look at social media, government, the healthcare system, your own community, perhaps even your own health. What if all the brokenness is not beyond resurrection? What if we could work to revive it, to make it strangely different? How?

Examination: What’s one area of your life that’s broken or near death, one area you’d like to see a sort of resurrection? (Write it down.)

And if you’ve had a near-death experience (or know someone who has), please email me. I’d love to hear it.

Have you woken up? Grab a copy of The Book of Waking Up: Experiencing the Divine Love That Reorders a Life.

“The Book of Waking Up truly is for all of us. In these pages you will not find the dreaded alarm clock, no. This is a glorious song of joy, of honesty, and of wonder-working power. These lyrical, honest, humble words will open eyes, unclench fists, and cause souls to rise up in love.” ~ Sarah Bessey

A Near-Death Story, a Bright Light, and a Hope for the Resurrection of Democracy

Two weeks ago, I sent a newsletter about cultivating a “Resurrection Imagination.” There, I argued the world was in an unrelenting cycle, one that’s “all spinning negative.” This, of course, was before the Hindenburgian experience that was the Presidential debate and before President Trump was diagnosed with COVID-19. It was before whatever melodramatic event unfolds this week.

2020—It’s can’t catch a break, man.

While walking the dog, I found myself waxing melancholic about near-death experiences with a friend.* These experiences fascinated me, I said, and she responded, said her mother had experienced her own death’s-door moment. There was a bright light. A voice asked whether she was ready. She wasn’t, she said, because she needed to care for her husband. She’d made the right call. Months later, he was later diagnosed with a terminal disease. It was an experience that shaped her mother’s life, she said.

“What’s made you so interested in near-death experiences?” she asked.

I gathered my wits and put it straight. We’re on the edge of some kind of collective death, I think. Perhaps its the moment just before the bright light, just before we hear the voice asking whether we’re ready for another shot (maybe one that’s less consumptive and more fraternal?). Perhaps burned through all our shots. Whatever. Still, I said, I have to believe in a resurrection one way or the other. I have to believe that something like new life will rise from these chaotic death-throes.

I don’t know whether any of this is true, of course. We could simply be in the middle of an ugly cycle, one that ends come January 2021. Perhaps we’ll go back to some kind of status quo, some more unified, less pandemic reality. Somehow, I doubt it. And so, I’m praying for a sort of national resurrection. A resurrection into something more like hope and brotherhood.

*If you have a story of a near-death experience, I’d love to hear more. Would you consider sharing it by emailing me?

Have you woken up? Grab a copy of The Book of Waking Up: Experiencing the Divine Love That Reorders a Life.

“We live in a culture obsessed with both image management and pain management, and this book is a hundred elegant and honest invitations to stop managing and start living.” ~ Shauna Niequist, NYT bestselling author.

Social Media and Politics of Attention

Consider the things that disrupt your attention, that break you out of routine. Is social media among them?

I’ve been writing about social media distraction for some time, but today, consider a different angle. Consider how attention-grabbing social media networks are influenced by political power, how those political powers influence the algorithms, and how those algorithms influence you. What do I mean? In an article published today on Bloomberg, Sarah Frier shows how Facebook’s attempts to appease political powers lead to the proliferation of manipulative media. She writes,

Zuckerberg isn’t easily influenced by politics. But what he does care about—more than anything else perhaps—is Facebook’s ubiquity and its potential for growth. The result, critics say, has been an alliance of convenience between the world’s largest social network and the White House, in which Facebook looks the other way while Trump spreads misinformation about voting that could delegitimize the winner or even swing the election.

This is your must-read article of the day. And after you’ve digested it, ask yourself: In a world in which my attention is the ultimate commodity, who stands to benefit the most from manipulating that commodity?

I want to hear from you.

How are you feeling about social media these days? Do you feel your attention being manipulated (particularly politically), or is it all high-school reunions and kitten memes in your feeds? Feel free to drop me an email and let me know.

Screen Time Update.

This week, I average less than 2 hours per day on my phone, an accomplishment seeing as it’s one of my most used work devices. I’ll keep you updated.

Enjoy the Content Here?

Invite a friend to follow along by sending them a quick email (just change the address).

Finally (but importantly), Grab My Latest Book.

The Book of Waking Up: Experiencing the Divine Love that Reorders a Life.

Recovering Routine (In the Insanity That is 2020)

If you haven’t heard, it’s National Recovery Month, so I’m zoning in. Recovery is about regaining control, choosing the outcomes you want for your life. And as I’ve written before, during this pandemic season (and the insanity that’s been 2020), my routines have fallen by the wayside. I’ve been overworked and less given to creative work. I’ve indulged in more social media consumption than I’d like, too. So now, I’m aiming to fix that through:

  1. Capturing the first hour of the day to create, meditate, and contemplate;

  2. Using the screen-time tracker Moment to stay below two hours of phone use a day;

  3. Moving my body 5-6 times a week (if you do this right, you can’t be attached to your phone);

  4. Diving into the creative process of re-writing an eight-year-old novel (the first installment of Bears in the Yard went out yesterday to Substack subscribers).

Have you lost track of your routines in the Pandemic? What are you doing to restore them? Feel free to shoot me an email and let me know.

Need to walk through steps of recovery this National Recovery Month (whether from alcohol, food, shopping, porn, social media, whatever)? Grab The Book of Waking Up: Experiencing the Divine Love that Reorders a Life.

I Might be Insane, But I'm Inviting You Along for the Ride

I’m writing this update from my office, and one story below me, a concrete saw and jackhammer offer alternating distractions. One moment screeches. The next quakes. I am not living my best writing life. It is par for the course of 2020.

Writing has been difficult in this insane milieu. But it’s not just writing. Just about everything takes more effort in 2020 than in previous years--eating healthfully, exercising, spiritual disciplines, fighting smartphone addiction. If this year were to be tagged with an adjective, it’d be disruptive.

Many of my routines--particularly around creative disciplines--have fallen by the wayside this year, but I’m determined to rediscover them. It’s creativity that makes us human, after all, and I’m feeling less human by the day. Today, I’m inviting you to keep me accountable to creativity. How? 

Eight years ago, I wrote a novel, Bears in the Yard. I scrawled it three-quarters drunk during an impossible time, a time I felt my own life might be unraveling. It was an exploration of something, though I couldn’t say what at the time (drunk as I was). But as I’ve considered the story over the years, and I’ve come to see it for what it is. It’s a story about what it means to live a good and weathering life. 

The story follows Wesley, a World War II veteran who’s confined to a hospice bed. He examines the scope of his life, the ways he’s been deconstructed and reformed, all while wrestling with anthropomorphic dream images of bears and mountain goats and geese (oh my). It’s a southern gothic story with a trace of magical realism. Still, it is unfinished, and I’d like to finish it.

I’d like you to follow along as I revised and complete this novel. If you follow this link to my Substack page and become a paying subscriber, you’ll begin receiving excerpts every week or two. You’ll also have access to an archive where you can catch up on the story in its entirety if you miss an installment. And yes, it’ll set you back a few bucks a month, but the buy-in will keep you honest (I hope), and it’ll keep me motivated (I assure you). And if this goes well, I hope to begin working on a second novel next year, one which will borrow from Bears in some small way, though with a sort of futurist twist. 

Please signup to follow along and I’ll send the first installment TONIGHT. Also, consider sharing this with a friend or two, asking them to follow along (just change the email address).

Finally, I’d love to hear from you. What are you doing to stay creative in this season of insanity? 

It’s National Recovery Month. Have you read this book yet?



QAnon, Radicalization, and the Cult of Personality (A Social Media Post)


“More than once I should have lost my soul to radicalism if it had been the originality it was mistaken for by its young converts.”
― Robert Frost

1. QAnon and the Phenomenon of Radicalization

Addiction, algorithms, the commodification of attention, the collection of data—these are only the base issues with social media and the rise of influencer culture. What happens when the algorithms direct you to darker vortexes, when they grab your attention, lead you into more fringe addictions? What happens when you graduate from kitten memes, pocket knife reviews, haul videos, and porn to something more radical (and radicalizing).

If you’ve read an ounce of news over the last few months, you’re aware of QAnon, a right-wing conspiracy hub for those claiming…

President Trump is engaged in an underground fight against uber-elite pedophiles, or

That the compound adrenochrome “represents a mystical psychedelic favored by the global elites for drug-crazed satanic rites, derived from torturing children to harvest their oxidized hormonal fear—a kind of real-life staging of the Pixar movie Monsters, Inc,” or

That Bill Gates is related to the devil, or

Trump and the Q Team are turning 5G Towers into Tesla 432 Hz harmony towers.

(For a great piece on QAnon and the impacts of religion, read this piece for RNS by Katelyn Beaty.)

QAnon theories populate the online world and are disseminated through social networks like Facebook, which NBC News reported has “more than 1,000 of those QAnon groups, totaling millions of members.” (See “How QAnon Rode the Pandemic to New Heights—and Fueled the Viral Anti-mask Phenomenon.”) The results? Members “doomscroll” QAnon posts for hours, riff off the material, receive applause for new insights. They forge connection over shared ideas, reinforcing insights no matter how baseless. Facts over feelings. Facts be damned.

One of those members—Melissa Rein Lively, the subject of the above-cited NBC article—took the conspiracies to the street. In a local Target, she made her way to mask display, and in a profanity-laced tirade, vandalized it. It was performative disobedience, captured via cellphone video for the benefit of her QAnon community. Why’d she do it? According to the article,

Rein Lively said she was "craving connection" in the weeks before the Target video, that she "couldn't just go and sit with a table of people and have a glass of wine like I'm used to."

Isolated, alone, and without the usual social outlets, she found herself drawn to online conspiracy groups. And over time, she found her views moved by the masses. Ultimately, she found herself radicalized. And though Rein Lively lost community respect and her career over the incident, someone won. But who?

2. Radicalization and the Right to Win

Dylan said it best “the times, they are a-changin’.” And in this era of rolling COVID lockdowns and social distancing, the people are struggling with those changes. Community is waning. Isolation is waxing. And human as we are, we all long for connection. And as I wrote earlier in this series, fear, anger, pride, and the like are powerful unifying tools. In the social media bubble, they can bring a community together in no time.

The purveyors of fear, anger, pride, and the like build massive audiences, draw people into their online communities on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and TikTok. Often, these sorts of online personalities blend fact and conjecture, offer editorialization mixed with conspiracy. And as their communities grow, the algorithms offer more support, recommending their content to more and more viewers (particularly on YouTube). What’s more, new growth brings a sort of confirmation bias to the community members. “The opinions of the purvey must be right,” the logic goes, “because, after all, could a lie really attract so many people?” And as the audience falls deeper down the rabbit hole, as they find themselves becoming more radicalized, who wins?

Follow the money; see the man at the top of the pyramid; watch him laugh his way to the bank.

You can find examples of these sorts of communities all over the internet. Alex Jones, the conspiracy-theorist founder of Infowars honed the technique to an art form. The mystery men behind QAnon’s “Q Drops” are following suit. But lighter versions exist in almost every corner of the digital world. Consider Taylor Marshall, a Catholic talking-head who weaves traditionalist values and conspiratorial conjecture to question the validity of the Pope (and indeed, Catholicism itself). Consider the evangelist John Hagee who, in 2015, claimed the coming of the four blood moons was an omen of the end times. (He’s still pushing this conspiracy theory, claiming that Russia took ground in the Middle East after the fourth blood moon and that it’s preparing an eventual invasion of Israel.) Consider modern politicians who do not debunk conspiracy theories that help their campaigns. Consider, consider, consider. Then ask yourself: Are they shilling these conspiracies for a price?

Radicalizers use speculation, conjecture, and conspiracy—all of which are unprovable in fact—to gather a community. The radicalizers question all authority but their own. They dismiss facts that undermine their authority. They ask the community to fall in line, to support and spread the message, to make viral videos. They sell books, supplements, ask for donations, beg for your vote. They amass influence and power. They set themselves at the head of the table, make endless toasts to their unmatched insight. All the while, they march their followers into deeper devotion. And they’re using social media as the tool to do it.

Today, consider the radical voices you hear on the internet. Ask yourself:

  • Are they using conspiracy theories (even if implied) to capture my attention?

  • Do they cite sources for the facts they use?

  • Do they come under any authority but their own?

  • Are they trying to sell me something?

If the answers make you uncomfortable, unfollow these internet voices. Unsubscribe. Walk away. And above all, find a more rooted community of connection.