a quiet, generative holiday break
Snow fell, feet upon stone
and I knew I’d wake alone
dreading the empty
afraid of ghosts
who knocked in the quiet
like clockwork
Darkness rose and I,
I didn’t resist
Sober, silent, still
Black wrapped me like a cloak
Oh, hello, old friend
I slept and slept
til the sun broke my rest
and sat, not for long
but enough to notice
a house finch on the line
There’s no real point
to any of it
other than
it actually felt nice
poem by amanda sandlin
I spent much of the holiday season alone. (I promise this is not a self-pitying, woe-is-me post!) The Front Range of Colorado is a place of transplants. I can count on one hand the number of people I’ve met who are actually from here. Because of this, and the nature of a university town, most folks go away for big holidays.
Over the last year, I lost a big part of my support system – people I would typically spend holidays, birthdays, and weekends with. So this was a tough one for me, and when I realized I would be alone, it felt sad and grief-y. Being an only child and moving around a lot growing up, I am used to being by myself. I even relish it. But this anticipation felt somber.
Then the time came. And people went. And Boulder was quiet. And instead of drowning it out with reality TV or social media, I did the opposite. I went on an Instagram-consumption break (which I’m still doing because it’s wonderful). I slipped into Christmas pajamas and blankets on the couch by 6 pm every night. I slept. I read. BOOKS. (I hardly finished a book in all of 2022, but in December I read two within just weeks.) I watched MOVIES (also for the first time in a long time) and dove into period pieces and sci-fi fantasy.
Maybe this sounds silly. Okay, so you watched movies and read books and slept a lot… and? Those couple of weeks opened up something in me that I’ve been stuffing with all sorts of distractions for a long time. I feared the aloneness but the space was what I needed to remember a very specific feeling.
I think a lot about how our always-connected habits have changed our brains and relationships and lives. Before smartphones and social media became such an integrated part of our every day, I often would feel similar to the way I did over winter break – at ease, connected, generative. I would call this feeling alive.
Do you ever think about how there’s hardly any mystery in our modern world? So much feels expected. We Google reviews before going to restaurants. We see photos of places before we stand in them. We can know anything about any subject in seconds. We see people’s lives play out on screens instead of catching up over a glass of wine or reading it in a letter.
Recently while journaling I made a list of the memories that stand out in my mind as feeling most alive:
Climbing trips to Joe’s Valley with Skye – very slow sunny mornings at camp, just drinking coffee and chatting.
Staying in a seaside village in Ghana for 10 days with Ruth – no electricity, wifi, etc. Just surfing, reading, simple food, and campfires.
A camping trip I took with Hallie – We read books out loud to each other by headlamps.
Renting a tiny apartment with my cousin in college – We slept on the same pull-out sofa, totally broke and completely sober, and had the summer of our lives.
I see throughlines: nature; friends; low/no technology; simplicity; a sense of adventure. I’m now wondering, how can I have more experiences like these? How can I incorporate more of these elements into my daily life?
Have you had any similar stirrings lately? I’m hoping we are getting to the point where we’re finally bored with never being bored. When I read stories about kids opting for flip phones or no phones at all, I have hope. When I see another artist quit or change their relationship with Instagram, I get excited. It’s clear many of us are sensing it – the pull toward an old-new way of being in the world in 2023.
-amanda