An actual day planner.
That big calendar on the wall.
A tattered notebook full of ideas.
Books. (Novels, cookbooks, reference books, coffee table books…books.)
There’s something downright magical about indulging in the analog world.
There’s also something rebellious about taking the time-consuming, not-as-productive, not-even-a-little-bit-rushed way.
Taking the time to read a book instead of watching the movie makes time for magic. The gaps between putting the bread in the oven and waiting for the oven to ding make room for dance parties and long conversations. The distance between a roll of film being shot and returning, developed, to its owner is nearly infinite. Anything can happen in the interim.
In a world that’s pushing for more and more faster and faster, I dare you to slow way down and enjoy the process itself.
If you’re writing, grab a notebook.
If you’re shooting, choose a roll of film.
If you’re meeting up, try getting together in person instead of texting.
All the modern marketing methods in the world can’t replace a single hug, given with love, by a fellow human.
If business is flagging or you’re losing enthusiasm or you just can’t figure out what to do next, get yourself out of the house and see some people.
Eat with your bare hands.
Give it time.
Reconnect with the visceral, not-online, basic ways of being alive in the world. (You’re an animal, after all.)
It’s only by acknowledging our animal nature that we can transcend it.
We may get “more” done in a day, but the quality of the work will be diminished.
Our animal selves need to hold things in our hands, breathe deeply, make stuff, feel the pages of a book, and butter that homemade bread.
Which tactile experiences call to you? What do you miss making the time to do? Start there. I dare you to do that today.
…and if you’d like to buy one of my print books, take a look at ’em here.
P.S. Once I cried in Hawaii because not-analog won in a big way. Here’s the story.