3:30 Thursday, Projects

17 Lessons to carry into 2018

For me, 2017 was a year of inviting and accepting paradox. I believe (and perhaps this is a little “woo woo” but it’s how I feel about it) that life is always sending us lessons: the sooner we listen, the less painful it will be.

The biggest lesson I feel that life has taught me in 2017 is that many times, the action, attitude or belief I’m looking for lies on the razor edge of paradox. As we say goodbye to 2017 and hello to a new year, I want to share some of the paradoxes I have come to accept (often the hard way) in 2017. tumblr_n09kfduO0y1trprbro1_500

  1. Say AND instead of But. Say YES instead of No. Whatever follows can be the same: ‘and’ and ‘yes’ open up your life to more possibilities, and when a NO is required, it is stronger.
  2. Slow progress is not the same as no progress. AND Sometimes, you have to sit down and get something done.
  3. Sometimes it’s okay to just let things go. AND sometimes it’s okay to not let things go

    Thoughts on Happiness (these may not be true paradoxes, but they’re worth considering)

  4. My actions and attitudes affect other people’s happiness, AND it’s not my job to make other people happy
    side note: I’m not responsible for my children’s happiness AND I can create an environment that cultivates their happiness
  5. I am happier when I set an intention and follow through with it

    A few thoughts on help

  6. It is not cheating to ask for help
  7. Secure yourself before trying to assist someone else

    Lessons from an ugly wart
    Feel free to skip this if you think non-contagious skin conditions are gross.Back story: Shortly after my second daughter was born (2 years ago) a wart appeared on my left finger. In that time I have tried tea tree oil, garlic, duct tape, Dr. Scholl’s Wart Remover, specialty wart removing soap, apple cider vinegar, etc. to get rid of the wart. As we begin 2018, it is still sitting on my finger.

    I feel like this wart has taught me several important lessons.

  8. Just because something is there, doesn’t mean you have to give it your attention
  9. Ignoring things does not make them go away AND most things will go away in their own time (whether you want them to or not)
  10. Sometimes it’s worth the effort to make a doctor’s appointment

    Be and love yourself

  11. Engage in person
  12. No one else has to care about your passion AND it’s okay to share your passions with other (because enthusiasm is fun)
  13. You need to have a budget for underwear
  14. Do things you love because you love them, not because other people approve of them.

    (For example – I have loved being a part of the 3:30 Project: reading my dear friends’ posts and putting my thoughts on a variety of topics into words was one of my great joys of 2017. I’m grateful to you for reading them, and I would have enjoyed doing this without a single reader all year.)

  15. Take care of your body because you love your body

    This was a revolutionary idea for me. It came to me one day when I was thinking about my exercise routine and getting in shape, and how hard it all is. I lamented that my husband wakes up an hour or more before me 2-3 days a week to get his work out in. I was jealous of his discipline.

    Then, I was struck with a realization. It was as though the heavens parted and the angels sang: I realized that he works out because he loves his body. Not in a vain, self-absorbed way, but in a genuine way – he wants to get the best out of himself and be his best self for me, for our kids, for our business, for our students, etc. And he knows that he is better able to be his best self when he exercises.

    The more I thought about it, the more mind-blowing it was. I realized that for as long as I’ve been “out of shape,” I’ve been trying to hate my body into something acceptable. I wanted to deprive it of bad food so it would be good. I wanted to sweat out the fat so that I wouldn’t look like a fat cow.

    But, when I think about my possessions: The ones I like, the ones I love, the ones I treasure – I treat them well. I dust the bookcase I made with my grandparents the summer between 7th and 8th grade and treat it with a wood polish to preserve it. I use bookmarks in special books so I don’t have to dog-ear the pages. I carefully hand wash and dry my favorite coffee mugs, so they’re not damaged in the dishwasher.

    What if I treated my body like that?

  16. You don’t usually get to solve a problem just once.
    I tend to think that with tasks in my life – getting in shape, sticking to my budget, playing with my kids, having a good day at work – that if I could just get it right once, I’d stay on track.

    But, I’m beginning to appreciate that it doesn’t really work that way. You’re never going to get one haircut and never have to worry about your hair again. You’re never going to take a shower and not have to worry about keeping yourself clean anymore. You will never brush your teeth once and for all. These things just come up again and again. So, whether it’s a problematic behavior from my kids, going grocery shopping or a bedtime routine – I need to accept that most problems don’t stay solved.

  17. We must find a way to live our lives like we’re going to live a long time, and as though our lives could end at any moment.

    Perhaps it was because of my 30th birthday. Perhaps it’s because my daughters are growing up so quickly, and I feel the passage of time so acutely. Perhaps it’s because my dog is getting older and I feel like we may not have many years left with her, but I put a lot of thought energy into mortality this year.

    Taking the time to remember how fragile we are, and how precious life is has been helpful to me. It helps me remember to tell my daughters I love them. I try to always leave them on a positive note (just in case). And, it helps me keep my frustrations in perspective (this too shall pass).

    But at the same time, we could have a long time left on this earth. If I live to be 100, then I have 70 years left. That is a very long time. It’s hard for me to keep both things in my mind. I still have time for many things, and the only time I have is now.

    Thank you for joining us in the 3:30 project this year. It has certainly been a place for growth, joy and fun this year. I cannot wait to see what 2018 holds for us all!

    Happy New Year!


17 Things to Bid Farewell to 2017

We began this blog in January of 2017. And now we’ve come twelve months hence- the closing of a year. We measure our days using this 365 cycle, relying on our history, our tradition, relying on the wisdom of cycles and systems and celestial rotations beyond our capacity to control. We do not need to measure time for it to change us; it does that all on its own. Rather it is our measuring of it that throws us most often into the moment of reflecting on what its passage has created. We each reflected on thirty years of life as we passed this milestone, but now Maggie and I look at just one year. Just these 365 days. What has their imprint been, what do we want to remember, what do we keep and what leave behind as we head forward into 2018? So naturally, I return to my roots: a list!

You know those lists that are like “10 Things You Need to Know Today!”?

Well, here are 17 Things I Want to Say Today (your needing to know these things is up for debate- you can determine that!)

  1.  Carnevale-A farewell to flesh. I stopped eating meat this year, though I never started calling myself a Pescatarian (I still occasionally eat fish). Instead, I sheepishly (pun intended) just continue to qualify my actions by saying “I haven’t eaten meat since February,” which feels somehow different than assuming a labeled identity. I’m describing my behavior- a habitual choice- while not having to take up a personal descriptor and claim a tribe. I certainly have reasons that this feels right to me currently, but I didn’t at the onset make some deliberate and highly purpose-filled decision to stop. I wasn’t to achieve a specific health goal or launch a personal moral crusade. I’m not trying to convert anyone (yet). I just began around Lent to forgo meat, and I haven’t gone back. I’ve had the sporadic bite-ful, mostly accidentally, of something containing meat, and each time have realized I’m not ready to return to eating flesh. And truth be told, I suppose I wonder if talking about our behaviors, choices, and opinions instead of describing ourselves as certain types of people might help us talk to one another. We can’t necessarily control the labels placed on us by others—male, female, black, white—but we do actually control what we call ourselves. So for now, I’m not a Vegetarian, I’m a person choosing not to eat meat. And if you are curious why, maybe we’re in a better starting place because I haven’t led off with a category, but an action. Though useful and necessary, labels tend to neaten up and consolidate, while I hope a description might invite dialogue.
  2. New Orleans…Or how after talking for years about how I never go anywhere except home for holidays/weddings/births/funerals/showers, I finally went on a trip literally anywhere else. In other words, for really the first time since my overseas adventures, I took myself to a completely unknown place for three days and explored. My friend Val and I went to New Orleans— a new spot for both of us—and enjoyed museuming, eating, drinking, music, and perhaps most importantly, our favorite activity: just strolling around with our eyes open. Turns out fortunately that we are good travel companions, which will most certainly be something to keep in mind when I remember that having done it before, it is totally possible to take time off, plan a trip, go on a trip, and enjoy a trip. I’m eyeing Yellowstone…Val?
  3. Fellowship of the Triangle: In launching this blog, sharing our thoughts about one another, our friendship, growing older, change, my already life-giving relationship with Maggie and Jillian only deepened. And this is a beautiful thing. I loved them intensely before, but in looking forward to the next thirty years (maybe the next thirty after that, inshallah) I’m so blessed to know that I have these two ladies in my life. The blog may end, but our relationship is like Celine Dion crooning on the bow of the Titanic about her heart going on and on. Wait, scratch that. Our friendship is  a lot better than that.
  4. Babies. And Hope.I’ve visited this topic in other posts throughout the year. I have no kids of my own, but my life is now brimming with little people that I interact with regularly: the children of my sisters, cousins, and friends. There have been too many discouraging moments over the span of this year—the current chaos of our government, natural disasters, mass shootings, and seemingly increasingly vitriolic discussion in our cultural conversation (it didn’t seem possible to increase THAT after last year, but ah well)—but I must concede that we continue hoping. My hope is that we are simply better to one another; not that we are right or capable of changing someone’s mind, but that we see Christ in the stranger (or the Republican, Democrat, man, woman, immigrant—fill in your trigger). When I feel discouraged, I remember that these little people still need a world to grow up into, and I want my life to reflect a more loving and empathetic world. My sister recently asked me to be Godmother to my nephew Conor, and I take incredibly seriously the responsibility of nurturing the spiritual upbringing of a child. So in spite of the exhausting news cycle, there’s no throwing up my hands in disgust and fatigue; I have things to do, and I have to keep hoping.
  5. Stillness. Believe it or not, I’m still thinking about Tech Sabbath. So much so, that I suggested to Maggie that we incorporate some screen-free time into our Advent practices this year. We won’t be taking full days away from tech, but weekly spans of time in which we deliberately and consciously step away from our technologies. I’m trying to not feel alarmist about what screens are doing to my brain without me even fully being aware of the impact, but it does feel scary to me to reflect on the frequency with which I have the itch to look at my phone. God gave humans an incredible capacity to dream, create, and invent, so I’m not denigrating our technologies; I just want to make sure I’m using the tools and not letting the tool use me. I agree with the theologians who argue that God has no bad things in His Creation—there is nothing inherently good or sinful in and of itself, be it food, sex, or your KindleFire. Rather, it is our use or abuse of these things that leads us to glorify God or alternately, to move further from good. With technology infiltrating every single aspect of our lives now, practically, I want to make sure I can still find stillness within the signals, calm in the tweetstorm (I don’t actually tweet, this just sounded good), freedom from finger-tapping.
  6. Roundabout! I got a new gig this year with Roundabout Theatre Company after almost six amazing years of running wardrobe with Manhattan Theatre Club. Change is not always easy to me (beginnings and endings trigger quite a bit of anxiety for me), and I also tend to feel incredibly loyal to people and places that mean something to me. So a transition that required me to leave my former daily contact with dear colleagues and friends, take on more responsibility, and step into something of an unknown was a huge challenge and a weighty decision. That said, I am tremendously glad I took the leap. It’s meant great things for my world, like increased job stability, new friends and colleagues, and a renewed sense of my own capabilities and capacity in my career. This was undoubtedly one of the largest and best changes that happened in my life this year, and I continue to be grateful for what it means.
  7. Keep Waking Up. Yes, I am borrowing from the cultural catch-phrase of becoming “woke” (and I’m not the hugest fan of catch-phrases) but this year I was continually reminded of all that I do not know and cannot inherently and obviously see in this world. I can only understand certain things in my small sphere, and let’s be honest, sometimes it’s even difficult to know ourselves. On the flip side, though, this year also reminded of the enormous capacity of humans to continue expanding knowledge and empathy. I think this empathy-expansion is like a muscle we must vigilantly exercise to keep it from atrophying; it is up to us to remain open people. We can’t know everything, but we can always be open to learning and listening, and fight the temptation and comfort of becoming rigid in our opinions and viewpoints. I’m going to keep trying, and I take no shame in the simple statement that there are far more things I DON’T know than what I DO.
  8. My Top Pop Culture Discoveries 2017: I was a bit late to the party, viewing this relatively far after its release buzz, but I really enjoyed The Crown on Netflix, and also (more Brits, you say!?) the sooner we can get more seasons of Great British Baking Show on Netflix the better, in my opinion. I also really enjoyed a fairly short BBC series drama on Netflix called Doctor Foster. A new podcast I discovered this year is ‘It’s Been a Minute With Sam Sanders’ (NPR), as I really enjoy Sam’s positivity and the warmth he shows in speaking with his guests and listeners. I didn’t see many films this year, but I loved the nostalgia of the Star Wars movie Rogue One, which I saw in early January, so I’ll say it counts for a 2017 movie! My favorite new musical I saw this year was ‘Groundhog Day,’ and not just because I worked on it so am most definitely biased! I also loved seeing my friend Bob (husband to my friend Andrea) in a wonderful small Off-Broadway musical called ‘Baghdaddy.’ It was about the mishandling of intelligence leading to the start of the Iraq War, and it was both tragic and hilarious all at once. You’ll just have to trust me on this one.
  9. Best Thing I Read this Year: I have an unfortunate tendency to forget what I’ve read as soon as I dive into the next book, but alas! (It’s one reason I have a word document on my computer with a list of completed books.) Probably my favorite memoir I read was Shrill, by Lindy West, and my favorite fiction was still, I maintain, (as I wrote about in an previous blog), The Neapolitan Novels by Elena Ferrante. Another surprise favorite was Invisible Cities, by Italo Calvino. He creates these beautiful word spaces in the mini-chapters of his novelette that are nice to slip in and out of.
  10. Boundaries and Balance. I can say categorically that I’ve done a better job this year at setting some boundaries of time management, rather than compulsively saying yes every time someone asks me to work or do something. I’ve made careful decisions about how many hours to tack on with freelance jobs outside of my regular show schedule, resisting some of my impulse to over-schedule my work calendar with various projects (ah, the freelance juggle). Mostly I’ve left my one day off a week as untouchable, so I haven’t gone for weeks on end without a day off, and I’ve also been increasingly confident at telling people what works best for me with scheduling, instead of feeling like I should work as much as the person will possibly let me…even if that results in me being exhausted and miserable. Setting some boundaries allowed me to have some balance for other things that give me life—time with friends, new experiences, travel, yoga, church—and it gives me enough space so that I can more often enjoy work when I AM working, instead of just feeling like I’m slogging through it. For years after I arrived in New York, I felt I needed to work every single hour and minute that someone asked me to, and while I still feel tremendously guilty when I am not working every minute and hour, at least I’ve gotten better at saying no, and I’m working on the guilt part? We’ll say it’s a start.
  11. Best Practices: Speaking of careers, at the beginning of the year I set myself a goal to hold myself to high standards in my working life regarding communication and respect for the time and efforts of others, especially as I took on more responsibility. I want to have an earnest golden rule principle: treating other people in the workplace the way I hope to be treated. One side of this is trying to evaluate what is true kindness to the other person in the situation (honesty and transparency are pretty much the way to go, even if you have to ultimately give someone disappointing news and end up feeling like the bad guy). The other side of this is not getting frustrated when other people do not reciprocate and behave oppositely (ie. Poor/absence of communication, focusing on petty issues, time waste, etc.) I have no grand point to make about this, since it is an ongoing practice. I feel just as committed to this idea of best practices as I did in the beginning of the year. I am not going to let other people change the way I act. Just because someone is a poor communicator, that doesn’t mean I am going to start withholding information. Just because someone else drops a ball, I’m not going to drop balls or procrastinate on things that other people are waiting on me to complete. Importantly, though I am not perfect by any stretch of the imagination, so I’m also going to have as much grace, flexibility (and at times forgiveness) as I can for the other ways that people work and operate (and sometimes flub) around me!
  12. 2018 Goal: Do more things that make me nervous. Things that I did like this in 2017 turned out to be pretty darn wonderful. Things like the Women’s March on Washington. Starting a new job. Taking an overnight bus to North Carolina to surprise my entire family for Thanksgiving/my nephew’s first birthday. I fretted anxiously about the details, logistics, and possible scenarios around these things, then went through with them, and when all was said and done, was tremendously happy I had. Next year I hope to look for more of these opportunities, lean into the discomfort, and see what happens!
  13. Thanks legs, thanks feet. Thanks body. After a stress fracture in my heelbone in early 2016, followed by anterior tibialis and achilles heel tendonitis, and THEN a strain in my high hamstring, part of me felt like I would never again feel comfortable in my own legs and feet while I walked around New York City. These were minor injuries and pains compared to what many people deal with chronically, and I’m not trying to compare or complain. What I’m trying to say is that prior to these injuries, I did not appreciate enough my pain free moments, deep yoga practices, and long walks the way I currently do. Of course I will experience pain, illness, and injury in the future, along with the inevitability of aging, but as my body continued to heal from last year’s injuries over the course of this year, I actually started having some gratitude for my body. Maybe a tiny bit of body acceptance, which feels a little radical to me. At any rate, I’ve been feeling grateful when I can for my own physical form, for its enormous capacity to heal. I’m trying to notice not only aches, twinges and fatigue, the messiness at times of the human body, but instead acknowledge and give thanks for energetic moments, pain-free activity, and the satisfaction of breath, movement and my own physical experience of the world around me.
  14. Chaos- Or rather, using chaos to help us let go of our illusion of control. You only need to listen to the news for a few minutes to witness the fragility of human life and experience. It is not hyperbole to say that people can and do have their entire universes transformed in an instant.  Natural disasters, political turmoil, threat of nuclear conflict with North Korea, terrorist attacks in my own city and many others…fear is a natural response to this constant parade of suggestions that our world could implode at any minute. I’ve actually been trying to think of this reality instead as a way to disentangle and detach myself from the (laughable) concept that I could ever reign my life into an orderly, neat, whole entity. We lay plans, we try our best, we strive, we build, but we must also live with the knowledge that we may have to give up literally everything at any time. So maybe it is best to hold onto things a little more loosely, and to quit grasping so hard—to hold gently onto my possessions, abilities, ambitions, and dreams, instead of anchoring myself to them. A metaphor to illustrate, perhaps? When people are in car accidents and they are tense their muscles, their injuries are often far worse than when the muscles are relaxed and unclenched. As life happens, collisions necessarily happen. So time to start practicing the art of release.
  15. Maggie and I can write a book. And maybe we will. Thanks to the 3:30 project, I have written more this year than I have since college and my year of blogging while I was serving overseas in Jerusalem. Sitting at my laptop, I remembered how satisfying and yet at times frustrating it is to try and craft a perfectly expressive sentence. Also how much time it takes. I’ve said this all along, but I wrote because even if no one read it, the practice of figuring out what I truly felt or thought about a topic and articulating it was clarifying, and at times, therapeutic. Midway through this year Maggie and I read a book together by a woman not much older than us. I think we were both struck in reading the book that it was an exploration of her life experience, a millennial just like us, and that people were still interested in reading her story. Suddenly it seemed far closer to imagine just writing something more developed together—that maybe it’s okay to keep telling simple human stories, even if our lives or thoughts don’t strike us as revolutionary or remarkable much of the time. So while this blog may come to its conclusion, Maggie and I are exploring what it might mean to write something together in the future. Who knows what 2018 or 2019 will hold, and maybe they will hold words some of you might be interested in reading. At the very least, I think we could enjoy the process of writing together.
  16. Alone-ness. Speaking of body acceptance. I also think that turning 30 and still being single has led me to a new kind of acceptance of my own independence. My upbringing primarily showed me examples of people who lived in pairs, a Noah’s Ark of two by twos, which is how I then naturally envisioned my life playing out. For a long time in my twenties, not having a partner therefore seemed something of a failure on my part- a way in which I was not fully adult or growing up. I think I  let that reflect too heavily on how I saw myself. Perhaps moving into my thirties is merely showing me the importance of all my adult relationships, along with the important aspect of living within a community. There is no longer a time table or set of expectations surrounding my need to find certain types of relationships (my mother’s marrying age of 24 no longer looms large in my consciousness, but is far in my rearview). Perhaps marriage will one day be in my future, but I think in the meantime I am becoming more capable of seeing a partnership as an outpouring and expansion of the love I already have within me, rather than an attempt to fill an emotional hole, “complete” myself, or check off a box deemed by my society and cultural as a natural developmental progression. Being single does not mean you aren’t in fulfilling and deeply developed relationships, and I appreciate that daily.
  17. You. Here’s the final thing I need to say in 2017; to YOU, the person reading this. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for being in my life and Maggie and Jillian’s lives. Thank you for holding space in your time and in your minds and hearts for our offering of words. Thank you for responding, either online, in email, or in conversation with us. I said before that I’d write even if we had zero readers, but the fact is that we DID have readers. Many people so important to us took the time to read, and having you has humbled and honored me. In the constant clamor for our minutes and our attention in modern life, you gifted us with some of yours, and I cannot express resoundingly enough how much it is appreciated, and how meaningful it is to have shared this yearlong project with you. I think when we give careful attention to the thoughts, ideas, soul searching, and humor of one another, we become more human—more fully ourselves—so I say again, thank you, thank you, thank you. You have nurtured my humanity.
3:30 Thursday, Projects

Dear Hollywood…

The 3:30 Project is a collaborative blog by life long friends: Maggie, Mary Margaret, and Jillian. Several months ago, we wrote about our favorite movies—the ones we return to again and again. This month we flip that around and explore movies that we never need to see again. Today Maggie shares her thoughts on her least favorite story line.

Dear Hollywood,

We’ve seen this movie before. And frankly, I think we need a better story.

Boy and girl are in relationship. It’s not perfect, but they’re making it work.


Boy and girl think they are happy. They’re going to get married. Everything is great.

But then, a new girl comes into the picture. She’s more fun, prettier, smarter, and in all the other important ways better than the first girl.


Try as he might, boy just can’t stop thinking about new girl. They have chemistry. Excitement. Romance.


He hasn’t felt this alive in years.


Finally, boy must face the truth. He wants to be with new girl.


So old girl must let boy go. But, old girl gets together with new boy, so it’s all good.


You know. A modern fairy tale.


With all due respect, Hollywood, I think we can do better.

We’ve all heard the phrase: “Art imitates life.”

Maybe, this trope of a man being trapped in the wrong relationship and he doesn’t have the courage to leave until the right girl (or as Meg Ryan shows us in Sleepless in Seattle, the right guy) comes along is so familiar because it’s so common.

But…life also imitates art, and I know this because my daughter was singing a Sesame Street song about morning routines while we got ready for pre-school this morning.

So, why can’t we have a movie where boy is unhappy in his romantic relationship, and he honestly tells girl 1. Then boy and girl decide (without some other person being involved) whether or not they want to be together. Maybe they go to counseling, maybe they rebuild their relationship, maybe they ultimately part ways – but they’re doing that because that’s what needed to happen in their relationship, not because boy had the next relationship ready to go, and the first girl has to move aside so he can move on.

Give the jilted girl a chance! Maybe if he told her how he really felt, she could change. Maybe she’s not happy either. Maybe he’s the problem, and if he doesn’t face the problem it doesn’t matter how many new girls come into his life, he’s never going to be happy because the person her really needs to change is himself.

And if this sounds like I’m taking this a little personally…I am. I definitely identify with girl 1 in this story line, and it feels a little unfair to me.

I can see how some other girl – one who wasn’t busy getting the kids to school on time, paying bills, grocery shopping and doing laundry – could waltz into my husband’s life and be funnier, more spontaneous, sexier and have better hair than me.


I’m over here in fairy tale land trying to make sure my children are fed and don’t pull a bookcase down on themselves or jump out a window because they think they can fly like a superhero they saw on television (yes, that’s why I live in a one-story home)…of course someone else could easily be more desirable than me.

Hollywood, I know you want to inspire us, make us laugh, and show us what the world is like. But raising a family, having a job, and growing your romantic relationship is hard work. And, it isn’t helpful to me when you make a movie where the solution to your relationship problems is getting out of the relationship by upgrading to a better model. It’s the opposite of helpful. It’s unhelpful. So, if you could work on that, I’d really appreciate it.

Love and Hugs,


3:30 Thursday, Projects

Dear Hollywood…Once was Enough

The 3:30 Project is a collaborative blog by life long friends: Maggie, Mary Margaret, and Jillian. Several months ago, we wrote about our favorite movies—the ones we return to again and again. This month we flip that around and explore movies that we never need to see again…for varied reasons. I’m up first (Mary Margaret), and to be perfectly honest, I had no idea that this would come out of me when I sat down to write, so I’m hoping for your grace as I try to articulate a difficult subject. 

12 Years a Slave

Undoubtedly this movie is tremendously acted, with impeccable production design, stunning visuals, and of great historical relevance, but having watched once, I can also say that I never need to see this movie again. This movie falls into a category that I find a bit tricky, because I feel like people don’t so much watch or enjoy a movie like this, but rather, they submit or subject themselves to it. Films like this develop the status of being labeled “important,” and then groaning under their powerful historical weight, they suddenly become the sort of films that people do not simply want to see, but perhaps more significantly, feel they should see. In a country and culture still deeply and painfully grappling with its legacy of slavery, systemic and self-selected segregation, and racism, some of us feel the need to attempt a head-on look at our past; one way we seek to do this is through the medium of film and other arts. I know I may be generalizing or that this may sound judgmental, but I sometimes feel like I hear white, educated, liberal people falling over themselves to say how excellent and amazing movies like this are, without being truly honest with themselves or others about how the movie actually impacted them. I’m not suggesting that the movie is not of cinematic excellent and deserving of its accolades, but rather that there’s a different sort of conversation that occurs when a movie takes on certain grave, (almost sacred), and relevant social subject matter. I sometimes feel that the vociferous adulation of “important” films is used as if to prove some point about one’s level of social consciousness and awareness. Incidentally, this film came out the same year that the Black Lives Matter movement began, and I admit a part of me wonders if the impulse to discuss the power of this film is also an attempt to signal one’s “woke-ness” to the racial divides coursing through both our history and everyday reality. In other words, “I appreciated this film, therefore see how racially sensitive and enlightened I am.” I am not criticizing the impulse to signal open-mindedness, but I want us to be honest about what we mean and the limits of this kind of signaling.

So I will be frank about my experience: This movie was truly difficult to watch, and I can honestly admit I did not enjoy the experience of sitting through it. Great acting does not make seeing people inhumanely chained in the hold of a ship, or being raped, or being flogged to within an inch of their lives a pleasant or good experience (not that I’m suggesting this as the ultimate goal of art, to be clear). In fact, I did not watch the movie all in one sitting, and I had to force myself to return to finish the last hour, driven by an innate sense of guilt that I should face these images. These events truly happened to people, so who was I to say that I wanted to look away from viewing a fictional presentation of these atrocities on a screen?

The story was undoubtedly fascinating, the performances powerful, and I do not regret seeing the film…but once was enough. Firstly because I do not have to convince myself that winning awards or being historically significant means I must like a film; I did not like watching this film. I felt sort of sick and emotionally wrung out, but not in the cathartic way that certain songs, films, and books elicit. Secondly (and closely linked) because I think we need to remember that simply subjecting ourselves to the difficult facts of our past is not some sort of atonement or exculpation for those events. I am not a better, more purified person for simply having watched 12 Years a Slave and experiencing an emotional reaction to its raw intensity. I haven’t done anything to help heal the wounds that the institution of slavery drove deeply into the core of this country.

Sorry, folks, there are just no moral merit badges handed out because you watched a movie that exposed you to difficult truths. There is always the temptation to substitute emotional reactions for true changes of heart or meaningful action, and I think we must guard against this. Art is one of the most powerful ways we can be awakened to certain heartbreaking realities, but we can’t get stuck in the moment of realization or emotion and feel the work is done somehow, when that’s really the point where the true work begins. I don’t need to revisit this movie to remember that the gut-wrench it left with me is a merely an infinitesimally small twinge of the pain that we must continue to try and heal in our nation. It is a pain not mine to claim, a pain inflicted undoubtedly by some of my own ancestors as white Americans, but also a pain that I pray I might have a part in further distancing ourselves from.

So view this film and others like it–if you truly want to. Dare to ask yourself the context that brought you to watch it, and try to recognize how your own race, gender, age, cultural identification, history, and bias may play a part in reaction to the film. Perhaps most importantly, remember emotion isn’t action; you may not have to watch the film again, but I think we must keep trying to face the hard truths- again, and again.



3:30 Thursday, Projects

A season for taking stock

In Florida, fall is the most wonderful time of the year. The weather slowly transitions from barely tolerable heat to obscenely pleasant. At the beginning of October, most days are in the mid to high 90s and the whole state watches every thunderstorm that rolls off Cape Verde in fearful anticipation that it will form a hurricane. By the end of the month, we’re putting out pumpkins, and basically moving outdoors to settle in for what I consider to be the BEST time of the year.

Seriously. I spend the summer months fantasizing about moving somewhere, anywhere, less hot. But, if you just wait, the relief of cooler temperatures will come.

The other wonderful thing about Fall in Florida is that it’s a fall/spring hybrid. You get the relief from summer heat, the anticipation of the holidays, fall festivals, pumpkin spice everything, AND it’s planting season. Yes, planting. Like normal places do in spring. Because (from what I can tell) summer in Florida is so hot and rainy that most plants are doing good just survive the summer. But, in the fall, you can plant a garden – or, in my case, purchase the fruit of other people’s gardens at seasons peak in the grocery store! Over the next few months we’ll start enjoying fresh oranges, strawberries and more.

So, yes, fall in Florida is my favorite.

Another upside: Floridians get the beach all to ourselves in the Fall.

I also have a sense of satisfaction about 2017. I almost hate to say this since I see so much suffering and turmoil in our country and around the world. But, in my little corner of the world, things are going pretty well.

Thanks to the 3:30 Project, I’ve intentionally set about being a little better in various areas of my life this year.

  • I haven’t experienced a total body transformation, but I have exercised at least twice a week all year.
  • My house still falls into disarray, but on the average it’s cleaner than it’s ever been.
  • My marriage is warmer, more loving and more fun than it was at the beginning of the year.
  • I’ve not achieved financial freedom, but I have maintained a sustainable budget for several months.
  • I have done a little better this year at keeping up with friends and family than I have in the past.
  • I’ve also managed to walk my dog sometimes.

In fact, now that my youngest baby is settling into toddlerhood, I feel – for the first time since becoming a parent – a little more like myself. I’m feeling a little more able to successfully make and execute plans. Sure, some of them are foiled when my four-year-old dives face first into a book case. Sure, some of them are executed while my two-year-old cries and cries because she refused to take a nap today. And yes, I spend more time than I’d care to admit watching Super Why, Sesame Street and the PJ Masks.

A season of transition, like fall, is a nice time to assess how the year is going and make any final adjustments as we head into the holiday whirlwind. And, this year, unlike the past several years, I have the satisfaction of knowing I’ve had the year I set out to have. I don’t want to say that this year has been free of sadness, worry, heartbreak, outrage, dismay, and writing letters to my elected representatives – because that has also been a part of this year. But, I think – on mornings like this – when there’s the a nip in the air, when my daughters are resting in a room that feels clean-ish, when I’ve done some very grown up things like get life insurance and called a roofer – that I am doing okay. And from that place, I have more. More energy to reach my goals, more compassion for others, and more acceptance for my own and others’ pain.

I think there’s a very real fear when we’re having a happy season in our lives that “If I acknowledge my happiness or take credit for how well things are going right now, if I am too happy – I might jinx everything and my life will fall apart.”

Nevertheless, I am going to acknowledge and enjoy my current happiness. Because another thing this year has taught me is that a hurricane or wildfire can destroy everything you have in a moment. As Master Oogway says in Kung Fu Panda, “Control is an Illusion.”

He also says:

“Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That’s why it’s called the present.”

(Side Note: Kung Fu Panda is full of little gems like this, and you should probably go watch it…now)

So, rather than trying to protect my happiness by hedging, hiding or holding back, my reflection on this fall is to acknowledge that this is “good times.”

Someday, I will miss the nights where my daughter wanted to set up a little bed in my room so she didn’t have to be alone while she slept. Someday, I’ll miss the days when my two year old could be soothed by me carrying her in my arms. And it’s entirely possible that there will be a day when I miss the PJ Masks theme song, and I might even look back with loving fondness on the day my daughter had a temper tantrum in the Halloween costume aisle at Target because there was no Owlette costume in her size.


3:30 Thursday, Projects

Still Searching for Sunday

I think it’s fair to say that I’ve been experiencing an eight year-long crisis of faith.

Maybe faith isn’t the right word. It’s been a crisis of church. I feel a homeless, and I don’t know where to go.

Like basically every Christian I know, one of my favorite writers on Christianity and faith is C.S. Lewis. There is a moment in the fifth The Chronicles of Narnia book The Silver Chair where some of the kids and a Marshwiggle named Puddleglum get trapped under ground, and the Emerald queen is trying to convince them that there is no Narnia, that Aslan is a dream, and that only the darkness of the cave is real.

Puddleglum finally says:


Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all of those things—trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones… We’re just babies making up a game, if you’re right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That’s why I’m going to stand by the playworld. I’m on Aslan’s side even if there isn’t any Aslan to lead it. I’m going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn’t any Narnia… and that’s a small loss if the world’s as dull as you say.

Puddleglums statement sums up why, for me, faith isn’t the problem, but church can be hard to come by.

When I think about my faith and my life, I want my faith to be relevant and useful, even if Christianity isn’t “real.” When I look back on my life, I want to know that I treated people with love and kindness, that I remembered “the least of these,” that I practiced forgiveness – because heaven or no heaven, Jesus or no Jesus, Noah’s ark or no Noah’s ark – I have faith that this way of living will make my life richer, happier and more valuable for me.

Does that still count as faith?

I feel out-of-place in church, and it’s been so long since I’ve attended regularly that the mere thought of hunting down service times, getting dressed, and showing up sends my anxiety into a tailspin. What if they find out I believe in global warming? What if they preach a political platform from the pulpit? What if they don’t let gay people be members? What if I go once and it’s not a good fit, but I see someone I know and they’re offended that I don’t like their church?

The few times I’ve had the courage to step into a sanctuary over the last few years, I have felt like a stranger in my own land. I don’t like being the new kid. I don’t like introducing myself to people. I don’t like not knowing where the bathroom is. And, Culture Wars aside, I’m frustrated when I hear sermons that are answering questions I don’t have about my Christian life. I don’t need to know who’s not getting in to heaven. I don’t need to feel superior to non-Christians. I don’t need the Bible to be infallible to be full of many truths. I don’t need anyone to tell me that I shouldn’t have to wrestle with my faith because Jesus has already done that for me. And I really don’t want to wonder if someone is telling my daughters that they are somehow less worthy than men because Eve ate the apple first.

But I still find myself longing for Christian community.

So, when I saw the title of Rachel Held Evan’s book, Searching for Sunday, I thought: “Yes – that.”1423422279150

I can relate to Evans’ desire to intellectualize church – to protect myself from judgement by being judgmental, to evaluate the merits of a church’s doctrine. And I can also relate to Evans’ description of the Evangelical church as “an ex-boyfriend who’s Facebook page you can’t stop checking”

I find myself speaking up for God and the church when I see nay-sayers (most recently, I engaged with a stranger on Facebook about whether or not God was causing hurricanes…). But, on Sunday mornings, I expect a lot from my church. I see a lot of church’s “reaching out” to people my age by having rock concert quality music from their Worship Team, changing their names (examples: The Meet Up, Roots, Cool place that’s not Church but is actually Church), modernizing their logos, having services at some other time, building a coffee shop (okay…I love the coffee shops).

And I believe that God loves our joyful noise (whatever music you play), and that it’s good to update your logo every 500 years or so, but I’m not trying to decide between church and rock concerts (maybe I’m the only one?). I don’t want to go to church and have to pretend I’m doing great all the time or that I don’t have any problems because I have Jesus.

I love this sentiment:

“At its best, the church functions much like a recovery group, a safe place where a bunch of struggling, imperfect people come together to speak difficult truths to one another.”

I would like to go to a place like that…I think. But…how do you walk in the door the first time? How do you figure out from a church’s website if it’s more recovery group or “place where we pretend we don’t have problem because we have Jesus?” And…would that mean accepting that other people need something different from their faith than I do?

I want my daughters to know God…but I want them to know God as a loving friend who’s there with you in hard times, who will help you clean up your yard after a hurricane, bring you dinner when you’re overwhelmed, listen to you when your totally confused and don’t know why, and call you out for your bad behavior. I want the voice of God in their head to be a voice of love – not one of judgement, righteous fury, and perfectionism.

But…by being so picky about how other people experience God, and I not being a judgmental perfectionist myself? Reading Searching for Sunday, I felt a sense of comfort. Here is a friend who knows what I’m going through. At least I’m not alone.

And isn’t that we are all ultimately afraid of? And isn’t that what church and community offer us? The ultimate truth that we are not alone. That we are all struggling and wrestling with the challenges of life together.

I am still searching.

The 3:30 Project is a collaborative blog by three life-long friends: Maggie, Mary Margaret and Jillian. Maggie and Mary Margaret often read books in tandem; we call it our two-person book club. For September, we bring you (in two parts) our thoughts on Rachel Held Evans’s book Searching for Sunday: Loving, Leaving and Finding the Church.

Check out Mary Margaret’s thoughts on Searching for Sunday here.

Visit Rachel Held Evans’ website and blog here.


Two Person Book Club: Searching For Sunday, Part 1

The 3:30 Project is a collaborative blog by three life-long friends: Maggie, Mary Margaret and Jillian. Maggie and Mary Margaret often read books in tandem; we call it our two-person book club. As summer ends and many people begin new autumn routines, this sometimes involves seeking out a new church, recommitting to church attendance, or maybe simply pondering church in general. For September, we bring you (in two parts) our thoughts on Rachel Held Evans’s book Searching for Sunday: Loving, Leaving and Finding the Church.

I learned while researching my own kind (oh, those Millennials!) for our recent topic that my generation is less religious than Gen X, far less churched than the Boomers, and way, way less doctrine-steeped than the Greatest Generation. We appear to be drifting away in droves from our religious institutions, and like Rachel Held Evans describes in her book, instead using Sunday as a chance to roll over, hit the snooze button, and eventually emerge from our covers to a communion table of pancakes and coffee.

I often work Sundays because of theatre matinees, so while this description resonates less with me, I can certainly relate to the fact that when I attend my church in midtown Manhattan, I don’t look around and see an overwhelming number of people in my demographic. Part of this is simply urban life; New York ain’t no Bible-belt, so actually fewer people in any demographic are regular church attendees. In the South it seems like people simply ask what church you go to, but up here, it isn’t infrequent to meet people who grew up in a household without any ties to organized religion. My peers and I are also in a grey zone in terms of life development, you might say—a span between higher education (crisis of faith!! I just took an anthropology class!), marriages and then having children, which is when you see many people seeking to reintroduce church into their lives.

No insult to Ms. Held Evans, but her book wasn’t a mind-blowing revolution to me; mostly because I’ve had so many similar thoughts to the ones she describes. I did not grow up Evangelical, but I grew up Southern in a church-going household, and I too have spent much of life going through small revivals—continuously renegotiating my relationship to my faith and to the church. She organizes her book by the sacraments, exploring these different rites as a means to understand a predominantly Millennial viewpoint on the modern American church. Her book was comforting to read in its familiarity; her descriptions of periods of doubt, frustration with overly political, non-inclusive actions of the church, the constant push and pull on the individual heart and mind by the people and ideals of the church—in how many conversations, journal pages, and soul-searching sessions have I grappled with these same topics?

So why ultimately do I belong to a church? Why do I, a 30-year old single woman without any children feel the desire to engage in a faith community? Why is simply individual prayer or personal faith not enough to sustain me? Why do I, though I see problems and politics and petty grievances in the oh-so-human institutions of the church, still believe it is a worthwhile space to spend time and energy?

For me, this basically all revolves around my non-revolutionary revelation that the church is people. Not a building, not a steeple, not a church council, or diocese. The church is nothing more and nothing less than the living, breathing human souls of people who put their trust in Christ. These bodies, minds, and hearts are the Body of Christ; no building, non-profit organizational structure, website, pamphlet, mission statement—the church is whenever, wherever, however, provided its people are present.

When I think of the church as people, it connects me to people of all denominations from all times in history, from all over the world, speaking in all different tongues, living in dramatically different circumstances. This allows for a radical inclusiveness in what it means to be a Christian, defying our modern American conceptions that being “churched” or “being religious” means buying into some white, middle-class, politically conservative, holier-than-though, heterosexual lifestyle. If my church by definition, though we don’t share a pew on Sunday, includes a Coptic nun in Egypt, a Pentecostal New Zealander, a Malawian Methodist and a gay Episcopal bishop in Sweden, how does this necessarily change my view of what it means to be in the church? How much more expansively can we approach the task of participating in a faith community when we see our inclusion as one small, incomplete aspect of a much larger whole? Can we envision the universal church as something unbounded from the aspects of time, geography, and culture that necessarily affect how individual faith communities worship and act in the world?

When we see the church as people, I think it also allows us to be more forgiving of the failings and missteps of the church, another thing Ms. Held Evans alludes to. The church is made up of flawed sinners, and therefore it will stumble. No individual store-front, brick-and-mortar church, sermon podcast, house-meeting, web-forum group of believers can be everything to it’s believers or “get it all right.” God does not tell us we will find salvation, peace, or life in Church; He tells us through His Church that we will find these things in Him and only Him. Expecting our institutions or even relationships with other believers to fill our Creator-shaped void is a path to disillusionment with participating in a faith community. In my opinion, we must never look to church to complete us; we will always be disappointed. Rather, we go to church to commune, celebrate, and worship that which WILL complete us in the company of others that share this hope.

Another reason I participate in church is because while I make a distinction between organized religion and faith, I believe in the power of church to sustain and support my faith. Confusing the two is wrong, because it leads people to imagine they must agree with everything their pastor or church organization says in order to participate in a faith community, or even be a believer. If our relationship with the church is in fact a relationship, though, this kind of thinking is an unnecessary stumbling block. We don’t agree with everything our friends or spouses say and believe, and yet we have extremely fulfilling relationships with them!

We Millennials are far too often caught up in how we “feel,” and for most of us, we will not constantly feel the presence of Christ, or feel strong and certain in our faith. We will question, we will doubt, and we may feel like the proverbial ship being tossed on the seas. But Ms. Held Evans’ writing about the sacraments was gloriously resonant to me because these are the actions done throughout time by generation after generation that connect Christ’s church across centuries. Since Jesus and His disciples walked this earth, we have in various ways as the church been baptizing, confirming, marrying, confessing, ordaining, anointing the sick, celebrating the Eucharist, and performing last rites. Part of the reason I liked the emphasis on these very specific functions of the church is because sometimes I just need to go to church and behave “as if,” as my mother would say. “As if” I felt confident in my own salvation, or the existence of a loving God, or even “as if” I was truly acknowledging my own errors.

Sometimes I need to participate in the act of kneeling, confessing, communing, reaffirming my Baptism, saying the prayers, and sharing the bread and wine, regardless of where my monkey-brain is on any given day. I need a way to participate in my faith that sometimes doesn’t necessitate feeling or thinking the “right” things, and for this I have long been grateful to the church for keeping these rites and rituals. Christianity is often thought of as more orthodoxy than orthopraxy, with a focus on holding certain beliefs rather than performing certain actions. But for me, I also need that connecting thread of practice binding me to my beliefs and binding me to other believers across time and space. There are times I get so frustrated with my own thoughts and feelings, and I instead need the physical, external encounter with water, oil, wine, bread, and the hands of other believers to sustain me.

I could likely write about this forever, since it’s important to me, and also since my relationship with the church continues to evolve day by day. Essentially, I’m always working on my “it’s complicated” relationship with church because I emphatically believe what Rachel Held Evans and the earliest believers asserted: I am a Christian, and Christianity is not something you do on your own. To walk away from church (meaning the people!) is in essence walking away from my faith. To be a part of Christ is to be a member of His Body—His Church—requiring that no matter how much this imperfect mishmash of people confuse or wound or disappoint me, I must always and ever seek to be in relationship with them.


Do you watch deleted scenes?

Motivation Monday is back, this week, Maggie shared her Motivation Monday on her other blog, On the Banks

On the Banks

Deleted scenes were usually deleted for a reason.

And for that reason, I usually don’t watch them.

But recently, on a road trip, I purchased the soundtrack to Moana (because I have two children under the age of 5, and it’s one of the best Disney movies I’ve ever seen…but that’s for another day). The soundtrack included a few demo tracks with Lin-Manuel Miranda singing “Shiny,” “You’re Welcome,” and “Where You Are,” which I thought was pretty cool.

But then, I listened to another demo track for a song called “More” and the reprise, neither song appears in the final cut of the film.

There’s no animation to go with the song, but it sounds like the song is an alternate to “How Far I’ll Go.” Which is an AMAZING song, and is obviously the right choice for the film.

But it’s a really good song, too, and the reprise…

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3:30 Thursday, Projects

6 Practices to help you screen less Tech Sabbath Part 2

On Sunday, August 13 Maggie and Mary Margaret eschewed phones, computers, and televisions, observing a technology sabbath. This week Maggie shares her insights on her 24-hour screen break. Be sure to check out Mary Margaret’s thoughts and read about our preparation for Screen Free Day!

I approached screen free day as a day long meditation practice. I expected that I would experience a certain amount of tech withdrawal – a strong urge to sit down at my computer or reach for my phone, and I didn’t want to spend the day judging myself. In mindfulness practice, they say that when you come back to your breath (or the object of your practice) from being distracted, your return to the present moment and that feeling of “waking up” is the practice. Screen Free Day felt like many moments of waking up.

Normally, in moments of downtime, I mindlessly start scrolling through pictures, posts and articles on social media. I check my email. I send a quick text message. But on Screen Free Day, with nothing to do with my hands, I worked on a writing project, I sat down at our new-to-us piano (which I found from a stranger on Facebook…) and practiced. Things I’ve been telling myself for months that “I don’t have time for” suddenly got my attention.


One of the things I noticed immediately was how many roles my phone has in my life.


It is:

  1. A camera
  2. A newspaper
  3. A radio
  4. A bulletin board
  5. A telephone
  6. A telegraph
  7. A television
  8. A post office
  9. A way to connect with friends and family
  10. A marketing tool
  11. A personal organizer
  12. An encyclopedia
  13. A dictionary
  14. A map
  15. A calculator
  16. A way to disengage from the problems or irritations of the moment

A place to let your better angels run wild

Being unplugged from technology for a day reminded me of the Spring of my sophomore year in college. Back then, Facebook was “new” and you had to have a “.edu” email address to get an account. That fall, Facebook caused a lot of unnecessary drama in my life, so I gave it up for what ended up being most of a semester. While I enjoyed not having the distraction and drama, I was a pretty lonely semester. My friends made plans for lunch dates, shared jokes, and communicated on Facebook, so I missed out on those things by being off the grid. I realized that I was willing to risk a little drama to stay involved with my friends and reactivated my account.


I also feel like I bring my best self to my social media accounts in a way that I struggle to bring my best self to the real world. Not just in the “I only share my best moments online, so my life seems way better online than it is in real life” way. In the real world, I stumble over my words, can never think of the right thing to say, and generally – in my fear of seeming weird, being offensive or struggling with my critical inner voice – I hold back. Some people use the anonymity of the screen to say terrible things to others that they’d never say in person. Whereas, I tend to skew in the opposite direction – when I’m hiding behind my screen and have time to chew on my thoughts, think about others feelings, and how best to put something – I tend to be kinder, more thoughtful and more generous in virtual spaces than I am in the real world. Whereas an internet troll may let their demons run wild in the online space, I tend to let my better angels run wild.

It’s a Trap!

Trap 1: I need to hide behind the screen to be my best self

On the other hand…is that a trap? Is that just what the internet wants me to think? Perhaps if I devoted the time I spend curating my online presence volunteering in my community, joining toastmasters to work on my public speaking, or facing real people instead of virtual people, I’d find that I could be my online self in real life.

Trap 2: I only see what I want to see

One of the things my day without screens made me most aware of is how customized my online experience is. It’s nice to have a tailored experience – I see my favorite friend’s posts more frequently; I see news that’s related to other stories I’ve read from sources I find reputable and interesting; I hear music and radio shows that I like and choose whenever it’s convenient for me to listen.

But…what am I not hearing, reading or seeing?

If I got a printed newspaper every day, I would undoubtedly see news or hear stories that the editor of the newspaper thought were important that I might never choose for myself. And that is both good and bad. By choosing my own news, I get what’s interesting to me. But, I think it’s valuable to read, watch and listen to the perspective of people who grate on my nerves, who challenge my preconceived notions, and who don’t always say what I want to hear.

A sense of calm

My kids interrupt me constantly. It’s what they do. I hear “MOM!” at least 100 times a day. And most days, that sound fills me with anger. Usually, it’s pulling me from something I’m working on, reading or doing, and I find that constant interruption of my concentration and the inability to work deeply and focus on something to be infuriating and frustrating. But…on Screen Free Day…I felt focused and even though the interruptions kept coming, I didn’t feel angry.

For several days after Screen Free Day, I felt a residual sense of calm and focus. I also felt less pulled to the virtual world. I made fewer posts, fewer comments, got less carried away on social media or news sites. And…it was kind of amazing. I enjoyed silence and hearing the noise of the world around me.

As I said before, I think there is a lot of good to be found from connecting and staying in touch with friends and family online. It’s how my children know what their grandparents look like. It’s how I’m able to stay in touch with my sisters and friends who live all over the country. It’s how I learn what’s going on in the world, and it’s also how I’m sharing this story with you.

But, in the spirit of mindfulness, I’m going to work on my practice of screening less. Here are the practices I intend to adopt:


6 Practices to help you screen less

  1. Have a screen free hour every day
    • Note: obviously, we all have an hour in the day where we probably don’t happen to be looking at a screen. But, I want to take an hour of the day to do this on purpose.
    • Maybe you put the phone down and watch your child’s practice or play with them.
    • Maybe you drive to work without music, radio or podcasts playing.
    • Maybe write out something by hand instead of typing it.
  2. Have a screen free day once a week or month
    • Note: I would like to have a weekly screen free day, but I do a lot of preparation for the week using my computer, and my job requires I work at a computer – at least a little – every day. I had to do a good bit of pre-work and catch up to make screen free day happen. I’m not ready to do it every week, but I know I could do this once a month.
  3. Instead of using the tools on my phone – get some of those specific things: a calculator, a camera, a newspaper instead
  4. Be mindful of your curated experience
    • seek out sources, stories, people and information that are off your beaten path
  5. If you like the person you are online, try to bring that person to the real world.
    • Make a date to meet someone in person
    • Show up to a community event or meeting
    • Volunteer somewhere
    • Go to a live show or concert
    • Try a new restaurant
    • Say something nice to someone’s face.
  6. Have a space in your home or life where there are no screens
    • The main living area of my home does not have a television or computer in it. We did that on purpose because we wanted to avoid the temptation to check out or veg out when we’re together as a family. I find this makes it easier to play board games, pull out a puzzle, have a conversation or do things that help us engage in a face to face way.



Clock Radios and Crickets…Tech Sabbath Part 1

On Sunday, August 13 Maggie and Mary Margaret eschewed phones, computers, and televisions, observing a technology sabbath. This week Mary Margaret shares her insights on her 24-hour screen break. 

August 13, 2017: A midnight to midnight fast completed. No phone, no computer, no screens. I unlocked the screen on my phone once for a friend to do a quick baby-check, (which felt oddly like “cheating”) but upon hearing that no one had gone into labor, off went the phone and popped back into my bag.

My conclusion after this measly 24-hour experiment?I present to you the stages of tech withdrawal…

  1. Anxiety, Panic, Bargaining:This was firstly and overwhelmingly related to the alarm clock situation. I was so concerned that something would go awry with the clock radio, I would sleep the morning away, miss work, get fired, and my life would go down in a fireball of ruins. This didn’t happen. I woke up before the alarm even sounded—maybe because I was so anxious about the alarm.  The funny thing was this anxiety prompting a quibbling with myself about the rules of “no-tech-day,” reasoning, well, maybe it’s okay if I use it as an alarm clock, a wristwatch, or a calculator because I don’t carry those things? But I overruled this bargaining, since this was precisely the point!! I was discovering all the things I rely on my phone for, and how it changed things to do without. I adapted; I  made my plans with my friends on Saturday, I looked at wall clocks, I asked strangers for the time, I mused about the weather, I walked over to a store to check their closing time, I pulled out a pocket calculator. I didn’t mind, but it also made me glad that we can do all of these functions with smartphones, because I like simplicity. I’m not a person who wants a kitchen full of appliances that each do one narrowly specific function (oh the apple corer? Yes, just squeeze that in the cabinet between the tree-nut-only food processor and the rice cooker. NOT!) So I’m grateful that I can listen to music, check my email, see the time, make calls, and do calculations without a purse or home full of devices and gadgets. We can discuss later my actual need to DO any of those things on demand, but suffice it to say I like the streamlining a smartphone permits. Obviously when you rely on one thing and it breaks, you’re more temporarily in the lurch, but for me the inconvenience is outweighed by the maintenance and cost of owning and managing everything separately: wristwatch, alarm clock, calculator, music player, landline phone, television, GPS device, etc.
  2. Sweet, sweet relief. And guilt. Once I was headed towards work, past my concerns about the dreaded oversleeping scenario, I felt the freedom of technology sabbath. I’d released myself from the obligation to call anyone, respond to any texts or emails, or engage with news or social media. And full transparency, part of this relief over not having to engage was directly correlated with current events. I wanted to be blissfully ignorant for 24 hours– a free pass from a self-imposed requirement that I stare into the darkness and acknowledge these most recent occurrences of racism and violence in our country. I didn’t want to know what the president was saying or not saying, and I didn’t want to face any further confirmation of the hatred, divisiveness and fear that Trump’s campaign and presidency has allowed to come bubbling up to the surface from malicious undercurrents of our society. Guilt comes into the equation because our accessibility to information has introduced this idea that we are negligent and wrong to NOT engage with this information. My eagerness to escape the influx of bad news from the past week, North Korea to Virginia and everything in between, points to the wearying effect of this burden of information. I wrote at Lent about limiting the number of news sources I was consuming, and Maggie and I have discussed decreasing the number of times we read about the same disheartening event. I don’t think guilt here is a particularly helpful emotion, nor is simply consuming news for the sake of having thoughts or feelings about the events themselves, but I want to maintain sensitivity and awareness to current events if there is a chance for action that promotes love and justice. I certainly wonder if occasional breaks might help me continue to be shocked and motivated, though, rather than merely fatigued by trying to keep informed.
  3. Temptation and Habit: It wasn’t only the news that I was relieved to escape, though. I actually enjoyed not needing to engage with the phone: not digging around in my purse and not having the phone physically in my hand. Of course, though, I am so used to reaching for it, though, I did have to actively stop myself throughout the day. When you put your phone down it leaves you open to notice the ubiquity of tech around you. A time-traveling visitor from the past or alien from a distant planet dropped into a New York City subway car would be forgiven for thinking that humans had an extra metal appendage attached to our hands, so it was interesting to look around the city trying to spot people who weren’t engaged with or simply carrying a device of some kind. Fighting my own habit of phone attachment was good practice. There’s no reason to pull out my phone with the frequency I do, and noticing when I had the impulse to was illuminating. Screens aside, equally strong was the impulse to fill the silence by turning on music, a podcast, or making a phone call. Which leads to my next point…
  4. Openness and Discovery: Disengaging from tech was about decreasing visual and aural stimulation of all kinds, and I truly found myself listening, watching, and observing more throughout the day. Obvious to state, but I was more tuned in to my surroundings and more present with my own thoughts, because I wasn’t listening to or looking at the thoughts and images of others. I realized how habitual my practice of listening to podcasts on my commute home was when I noticed the hum of crickets in Prospect Park as I walked from the train. Even in the middle of the Brooklyn, these creatures chirp, a natural chorus in the midst of the artificial and mechanical buzz of the city. Undoubtedly the best part of tech-free day was this quiet sitting with myself, which is something I typically think I have to leave my “normal” New York City life to engage with. It’s so simple, but I had some nice thinking time, and even mulled over some future writing topics. In releasing myself from the need to engage during the span of a normal day of work and play, without needing to go on a literal vacation, I found a bit of stillness even within that space.

My verdict then as a naturally anxious and somewhat restless soul? I ended tech-free day thinking: so that was tricky. When can we do it again?