Choose your own dependence.

Hi Friends,

I’ve had a really good few weeks.

(I just deleted several qualifying statements about my good few weeks—like, yes, I’m aware of all the suffering, and the injustice, and of my privilege, and…—because it’s become, to some, inappropriate, even unacceptable to feel good in this country, in this world, at this time. I just wrote to some but count my mind among the some, as it regularly attempts to steer me away from feeling good in these too-shitty of times. How could I? it taunts. Even this parenthetical which lets you know I deleted several qualifying statements is itself a qualifying statement because my mind’s fear of being judged for feeling good in a profoundly fucked up country and world outweighs my genuine desire to just write the words I’ve had a really good few weeks without needing to qualify them. Fucking hell, right?)

Anyway, I’ve had a really good few weeks. And it’s not by accident. But is still a gift.

I recently read an essay here on Substack about how giving so much energy to mindfulness practices, to a healing journey, to wellness and the like, actually reduces the probability of living a more fulfilling life. In a nutshell the author argued for just living your life, being present with what you’re doing, finding joy in your choices without working so much on all of it. She did a much better job than I of making her case, and when I first read it I was like hell yes. For a minute or so. But the truth is, at least for me, the more connected I am to my mindfulness practices, the more likely I seem to be able to be present in my life in a more fulfilling way. I think most of us want to be able to live in the present moment, to be here now, and yet I don’t know a single person who is consistently able to do so. And the ones I know who are able to the most often all integrate specific mindfulness, wellness, call them what you like practices into their lives that serve that possibility.

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A few weeks ago I committed, for the 265th time, to some morning practices. I’ve learned, at least 265 times, that when I start my day off with some intentional choices, the day that follows tends to play out more peacefully. Better said, I tend to maintain a deeper sense of peacefulness with however the day ahead plays out.

So, I’ve been starting my day with four practices: a fifteen minute meditation, followed by three handwritten morning pages (stream of consciousness writing), followed by prayer—for others, for the world at large, and for myself, followed by 20-30 minutes of reading. This is how I’ve begun most of my mornings for the past few weeks, so when I say I’ve had a really good few weeks, and it hasn’t been by accident, that’s in part what I mean.

I want to share something that I think is important here. I suck at meditation, and I’m not being humble. Most of those fifteen minutes, every single time, are filled with distracting, wholly unimportant thoughts, or a list of to-dos for the day ahead. If I’m lucky I get a minute at the end where I feel like I’ve dropped into a witnessing consciousness, where my mind feels quiet or my ability to be with all the noisy thoughts feels like real acceptance. Often times I never get there. The alarm goes off and I’m like, oh yeah, I was supposed to be meditating.

Let’s talk about my morning pages for a moment. They are mostly gibberish. And whining. And painfully boring informational notes, like yesterday I ate too much garlic and spent much of the night gassy. Nothing revelatory to see here. My inner wisdom, or spirit guides, or creative muse rarely come to visit me for these journal entries.

And my prayers? I mean, they’re okay some of the time, but lately I feel like I’m just going through the motions. I usually peter out before I get into a really good flow where I feel like I’m communing with the Divine.

So, three of my four morning practices, at least lately, don’t even feel especially fulfilling (The reading, that always feels solid, like I’m doing something good for my mind and spirit by diving into a book in the morning.) and yet I tend to feel more grounded, clear and ready for the day once I’ve done them. I don’t think that’s a coincidence. Better said, that’s not at all a coincidence.

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I also made a choice that has had as much or more impact, at least on my creative state and output, than all the morning practices combined: I stopped using cannabis. Exactly eighteen days ago. After using it every night for more than a year, and most nights prior to that, I decided to take a break. And wow has it made a difference in my life.

One not so great difference is that my sleep has been mostly unpredictable, or predictably bad since I stopped. Gummies were great for my sleep, which is why I took them every night. I like being high too, but the sleep part created the nightly dependence. I’d gotten much more accepting of my pot habit, but I haven’t liked the feeling of dependence on it. Dependence on prayer, sure. On getting stoned, not so much. In great part, because along with the good sleep, I was definitely using it more often than I’d like to numb out. I do, however, fully appreciate the myriad benefits of the plant. And fully expect to use it again.

What probably should not have come as such a surprise, but came as such a surprise, was the level of clarity and focus I’ve felt since I stopped using. And immediately. In the first twelve days off gummies, I wrote more than 100 pages of a new book that I have subsequently submitted to my editor to see if it’s something they might want to publish. I haven’t felt in my creative flow like this in, well, I can’t even remember. Even on four hours of sleep, I felt clear and focused, and entirely available to the creative energies circling me. I’m sure my morning practices contributed, but my gut tells me, more than anything, it was getting off pot. Something within me shifted entirely, and quickly, without it.

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And then there’s social media and the news. After being…compulsive? Addicted? I don’t know? in the consumption of social media and news for too many months, and generally miserable in said consumption, I removed Instagram and Threads from my phone, and would you believe, I’ve spent almost no time on Instagram and Threads since then. For the first couple of days I’d reach for my phone every ten minutes or so to get my Threads hit of current horrors and all the opinions on said horrors, and then I’d remember that the app is no longer there. And amazingly, I didn’t pick up my phone, because why would I if not to be extremely on top of the myriad horrors going on across the planet. And the myriad unhelpful opinions about them.

I can’t say I’ve completely cracked my phone dependence, but I’ve made some serious strides these past few weeks. Even as I know I could get sucked in again at any time, right now I’m reveling in my dedication to my mental health over the abuse of it through my phone habits.

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I think it’s entirely natural to feel dependent on people and habits throughout our lives. Some of what we form a dependence on can serve us in good ways, and some can, well, destroy us if we let them. I’ve long felt like anything taken to an extreme—even something as helpful as meditation or fitness or prayer—can become its own prison, particularly when we believe we can’t exist in a good way without them.

And yet, I think I’m okay with prayer becoming one of my prisons, or breathwork, or even meditation, as frustrating as it is. I’m okay with forming a dependence on practices that actually, tangible make my life feel more peaceful and fulfilling, as it is. Or better said, help me to feel more peaceful and fulfilled in my life, as it is.

I’m so happy you’re here. Thank you. So much love to each and every one of you.

xoxo…Scott

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