10 practices for days with more connection, focus, and soul.

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I’ve been thinking about this video essay by Ezra Klein for the last several weeks.

I don’t have to be the one to tell you that the world is overwhelming and disorienting and disorderly right now. It’s exhausting. It’s overwhelming.

But in the back of my mind, I hear Ezra’s words:

Focus is the fundamental substance of democracy.
Focus is the substance of opposition.

If we want to build a better world, we have to practice that better world. We have to practice resisting the forces of distraction and overwhelm. We have to turn towards something better.

For me right now, something better looks like regulating my nervous system, choosing what to pay attention to, purposefully tending to the relationships in my life, and practicing joyful unproductive creativity.

Less of what is disconnecting, distracting, and dysregulating.
More of what is slow, substantive, and soulful.

Read on for 10 of the practices and habits I’ve been experimenting with lately.

1. Deleted my email app off of my phone. Over the last year or so, I’ve been slowly deleting social media apps off of my phone – TikTok, Twitter, Facebook, and finally Instagram. But I still found myself checking my notifications dozens of times a day because there’s ~always~ a new and exciting email to read. Earlier this week, I finally deleted the Gmail app off of my phone, and WOAH. The joy of having a phone that only receives calls, texts, and Marco Polos. Speaking of which…

2. Out with social media, in with videos, audio clips, and phone calls. I have realized that without the slow attention drip of social media, I finally have space to feel my hunger for connection. When I crave connection, I don’t want to see my friend’s Instagram reel. I want to see their face and hear their voice. Sending and receiving voice notes, phone calls, and Marco Polo videos feels so much more connective and joyful right now.

3. Checking out books at the library. The public library system is one of the perfect gifts of this life. I love picking up books. I love aimlessly browsing the shelves. I love talking to librarians. I love every bit of it. It checks so many boxes for me – it’s social, it’s tactile, it’s free (but also please donate to your local public library if you have the means).

4. Listening to local radio. I have a deep love for our local public radio station, 91.1 — I know the names of my favorite DJs, I get to learn about local artists and shows, and I discover amazing new music. Even as a long time Spotify loyalist, there’s something more organic about public radio. I don’t love every song, but I get to be genuinely surprised and delighted by something new the algorithm never would have recommended to me.

5. Creating postcards for friends. I finally started printing copies of the film photos from our honeymoon, and realized last week that they would make great postcards. To make the process a little slower and more joyful, I bought a couple magazines and added some tiny collages. It doesn’t take very long, but it slows me down and creates a moment for me to pause and create something – a small delight for a beloved.

6. Showing up IRL for local politics. When the Tennessee legislature was scheduled to vote on an anti-trans bathroom bill earlier this week, I showed up to the hearing – even if only to bear witness to the horrors alongside my fellow Nashvillians. This year, I also joined my local neighborhood organization, where I get to meet and work alongside elders whose families have lived in our area for decades. It’s a multi-generational dream.

7. Reading books with friends (kind of, slowly, on our own time). My dearest faraway friend and I love to read, and we’ve been circling around a few of the same books lately. After saying, “I’ve been meaning to read that!” to each other a dozen times, we started what she lovingly named the “No Worries If Not” Book Club. We send each other the titles of the book we’re reading. The other person can read it (or not) at whatever pace suits them. We talk about the books at our own pace, over text or Marco Polo or phone calls. Right now we’re reading Four Thousand Weeks, the Anxious Generation, Come and Get It, and I’m about to start this book on perfectionism. Unstructured, pressure-less, and filled with joy.

8. Remembering to notice my life. In Four Thousand Weeks, Oliver Burkeman notices that in our pursuit of progress and growth and productivity, our modern lives become something to be “gotten through” on the road to some ideal future.

8. Oof. I can find myself living in the future, particularly at this time in my life. Let’s just get through the last few months of grad school. Let’s just get through this next paper. Let’s just get through the next four years. But our lives are happening right now. Throughout the day, I have little silent alarms set on my phone that interrupt whatever I’m doing. They remind me to pause and say to myself:

   This is my life.
   This moment is my life.

   It only takes a moment, but it helps me cultivate gratitude and focus my attention on what matters.

8. Midday backyard breaks with the dog. In the spirit of practicing pushing past discomfort, my dog and I have started going outside every afternoon – whether it’s 40 degrees or 14 degrees – to throw toys around in the yard. I get to breathe cold, fresh air; he gets to run around and play. When it’s not 15 degrees, I take a few moments to put my feet in the grass and connect to the earth. Woo-woo? Yes. Does it feel good? Also yes.

10. Tend to the things I already have. When I start to get that Late Stage Capitalism Itch – when my life feels incomplete, when the only solution is to find something new to buy – I try tending to something I already have instead. Clean the windows. Vacuum the rug. Figure out how to patch that tiny tear in my jacket. Water the plants. And honestly, it works. Because my life was never the problem to begin with.

I’d love to learn from you. What practices are grounding you inside your life?

• What is the “something better” kind of life that you’re hungry for right now?

• What habits and practices do you already have in your life that allow you to cultivate this life?

• What habits or practices could you invite into your life in the coming weeks and months?

wholeness is holy.

"Have you been here before?"

liturgy: you turn my mourning into dancing.

Thin Space Cowboy is a reader-supported publication written and created by Lindsey Kelley. Click here to subscribe or gift a friend a subscription here (if a friend sent you this email—tell them thank you!). Have questions? Requests? Reply to this email to reach me directly!