Keep Driving

The baggage of apps and community

As seen in Portland with my bestie :)

Set it on fire. Keep doing you. Drive.

After all that happened in 2020 it took a long time, a lot of prayer, work, shedding of self. A daily practice that hangs on like a seven foot statue paperweight, a looming shadow.

When you go through a heavy estrangement and a death simultaneously it does something to you.

Grief fights with each other like this…

Grief is alive and dead. Grief is ousted into a corner, like a dog outside who has longed to come in. Grief is carried in observation, slow loss, clinging memories, love, even humour, faithful commitment to the end. Grief for the dog outside is shrouded in pain, like a punch that leaves part of your soul slowly dying, suffocating, as you beg for mercy inside your small and tattered dog house. Quiet mercy for both the dying and the half dead. Your heart in two places. One for the dying and one for the one that left you sprawled and vulnerable.

Vulnerable to the outside voices. Vulnerable to voices that would like to snuff out your spirit all together.

So I reached to a place. Brazen, bold, begging to be seen by God. I begged mercy for the dying and for my dying self.

In time, traveling with the One who would wrap His arms around my tenderness, I found that I could get quiet. Let life happen, not make it mine. Shed.

Grief for the gone, for the dad I had all those years, for the old dog that needed a place to rest her head after years neglected in someone else’s yard, grief for the loss of confidence that I was someone special to some people. Grief turned into sudden writing. Then a beautiful addiction. An oxymoron. Healing in the pounding of keys.

The doghouse of death was out and gaining speed. Scary. I’m scared.

Since coming to the community of Notes, here on Substack, I found a renewed confidence. Journaling every thought, only annoying the computer keys, it was time to try again. I let my guarded heart down. Opening up a little more, I got back into the groove of the archaic digital community past. A past of well intended social apps. A past where you didn’t disappear into a bottomless, tap dancing pit. “Help! let me out! What coffee do you drink? The algorithm doctor says to engage!! But I’m a photographer!?”

Instagram, as a way of “phone-only” picture sharing, meeting others, fell over the cliff and entered a million packed stadiums, all screaming something. I can’t hear. I can’t find my friends anymore. Do you know where so and so went? I didn’t post a black square, I said something wrong. I didn’t like destruction. Wait! I took a cool picture, wanna see? Instagram “self” imploded.

Facebook, and the early subtle disappointment of my then first college student that his mom and grandma had signed up, was noted, but I still joined. That moment of disappointment was the exact feeling I had when Instagram got hijacked. Facebook was created for college students to stay in touch with each other. A society of learners trying to get through four years or more of the shadowed cloisters.

It truly is unsustainable as we chase these social apps. But drive anyways…

Substack Notes, the connections here have been beyond surreal, as they should be in the world we have not transformed ourselves for. When we meet like-minded artists, poetic souls we feel something indescribable and desire to touch it. To drink that coffee together in the same room, as we are longingly rendered to this screen.

I fear losing friends to the wayside, dumped, astray in “growing community.” Slowly, as bots arrive, unwanted private messages entertain us, and now.. live video, so that we may all talk to each other. Unsure about this for now… but do you want to see my graying hair? (faceslap).

I came to Notes in January, after a year and a half of solid writing, alone with the walls, dogs, a satisfied, but ornery cat, and the music. I found my way back, through writers, poets and artists, but a past was always burning inside of me. My photography. It had come to define me in many ways, but I had somehow missed the mark of making solid community in this field and it had become part of my grief. So I dabbled in the last several weeks to write about it more and follow some photography Substacks. One, who had interviewed me in the past for a publication, would like to pretend they didn’t (God it’s good to be honest these days), one who had no response, and one who put up a big complaint about Instagram “censoring art.”

Not all, but there are too many egos and dismissers in photography from my experience. Ironically, I had commented on exactly what Instagram was originally developed for and it was met with “thanks for being here.” I laughed and spit my coffee out. The piece expressed how IG wasn’t allowing artists to grow. But wanting to keep IG for the over 50k “community.” Think about that deeply. I have a small community and feel I can’t keep up or that I’m letting someone down. It’s already a big community to me!

Community is intimate. Special.

Professional Websites/Portfolios, nope. Instagram and Facebook must help us be “free to express” while they are trying to shut down all the seedy, trafficking posts with disgusting handles and nude/half nude suggestive images. Guess the daily developing rules can’t be divided into “that’s art and that’s gross and can’t be unseen.” Too many varying people, too many categories, too many rules for a developer to control.. whose number one priority is money. But let’s keep complaining about Instagram or Facebook not letting “art” happen. Thanks for being here! We have lost our minds.

I am made of so much more. We are made of so much more. There are writers here and artists who are a sacred breed of longers and givers, longingly waiting outside to come in and give love. I do not deserve you. I have found you and you have found me.

I fear I will lose you all as Substack grows.

We might be chasing apps community. We might believe we are worthless as we run away from the same old thing.

For now, shed what keeps you in the doghouse.

The voices that aren’t true.

Let the fear fly away.

God be your guide.

Keep driving.