Caught Scrolling

Last week on more than one occasion I found myself sitting with my book, enjoying life in the slower lane. My coffee was on the table next to me, and vacation mode was fully engaged. The morning was still and quiet and, for the first time in a long time, I feel like I had permission to finally exhale.

The moment didn't last nearly as long as I needed it to. My attention had either been lost or captured--I can't really tell anymore--and before I knew it, I was scrolling. No plan. No reason. Just that familiar flick of the thumb. Somewhere between one paragraph and the next in my book, I had picked up my phone and disappeared into the endless hum of other people’s lives.

It’s wild how fast it happens. One minute I’m here — breathing, tasting, noticing — and the next I’m gone. My body still in the chair, my mind and my soul somewhere else entirely.

As I have thought about that day, I have given more than a few minutes over to wondering about the reasons so many of us effortlessly start scrolling even when we're doing something else. Contrary to popular opinion, I think sometimes we scroll not because we’re bored, but because we don’t know what to do with stillness. Real rest can feel foreign, even threatening. We’re so used to being stimulated, entertained, or productive that when quiet comes, we panic. We fill the silence before it can reveal anything--about us, about our lives, about the world or about others. When faced with the potential for such revelations, scrolling feels easy. Stillness, on the other hand, does not.

So, what, should we all throw out our phones or swear off social media forever? I mean, do what you'd like, but I don't know that I'm necessarily advocating for that. What I am advocating for is noticing. Noticing when I'm mindlessly scrolling. Noticing the moments that led to me randomly grabbing my phone. Noticing the moment that's just been lost, and then choosing to come back. Back to the coffee. Back to the breath. Back to what’s real. Back to the present moment.

I think that might be the more fruitful practice. Not chasing some sort of hyper-vigilant presence that is perfect all of the time, and not unplugging entirely either—just noticing when we’ve drifted--and then, choosing to return. Not just once, not just on vacation, but in our most everyday moments, again and again, choosing to come back to the life that’s right in front of us. The life that is actually ours and NOT some voyeuristic adventure into someone else's Instagram highlights, or the endless stream of "breaking news."

It's not flashy or even fun. There's no shortcut or self-help easy 10-step process back to the present. It's just practice. Consistency built over time. Not so that we can be "better" or "leaner" or "faster" or "stronger," but simply so that--little by little--we can be where the sacred is--which is always here and always now. Not buried in a feed. Not waiting for us to earn something. But right here, where the daylight hours are getting shorter, where the coffee’s still warm, where are questions and doubts about life's big questions intermingle with our To-Do lists and our grocery lists, and our appointment calendars. Right here is the address of the Divine, and right here is where the quiet is always trying--again and again--to love us back into being.

So this week, if you catch yourself scrolling for no reason, don’t overthink it. Try not to judge yourself or the moment. Just notice. Set the phone down, take a deep breath, and then...come back to yourself. Come back to what is holy and sacred in the moment that’s still right here, just waiting for you to return.

On the journey with you,
Pr. Melissa

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