I don’t know how it begins, but it was during the first week of national lockdown that I experienced an awakening (an embryo version in comparison to cosmic).
It was a red alert when Apple sent me a screentime report, telling me my daily screentime on social media had been an average of 5 hours. 5 hours of mindless consumption on social media is not a neutral data, it signals something buried deep within oneself. It could be loneliness, a sense of numbness, the desire to be known and know; it tells of a drift away from yourself, your soul, your very true self. At least for me, I felt that it was my ego-self being active on social media, with plenty more drifted selves all engaging in one big social performance. There is so much noise everywhere online, noise from sad esteem, noise from the unaware loneliness, noise from a bruised ego in disguise, noise from social belongingness. Private matters have nowhere to go because the stage is now a safe space to be with multiple self-serving enablers.
When this awareness arose, I escaped back to my fondest memories of myself to seek comfort — back in those days when I lived every day unannounced to anyone, announced only to curiosity, passion, and emotion of the day. Back in those days, when immersed into the beauty of art, cinema, literature, the afternoon sun rays, and aimless scroll on the streets to feel the birds, trees, what may come through my eyes. All of these moments, sometimes undocumented, sometimes documented, were never for anyone but my ego-less self. By way of capturing, it was a way to appreciate the beauty I felt.
When this awareness arose, I walked away from the Instagram account I’ve been using for years, where plenty of online friendships made, insights exchange, secrets shared. It was a much-needed decision. Made to unburden myself from the online identity associated with it, and the social expectation that comes with it. Unburdened, so she can be elevated with lightness into the poem of being.
Let her begin again.