It's that time of year
On slowing down, cultivating white space, and planning for a digital sabbatical.
A couple of days after I deleted Instagram from my phone last month, I went for a walk while my son attended his karate class. The sun was out for the first time all day, and I ran into a family of geese on the path, all pecking the grass.
My instinct was to pull out my phone, take a photo, and share it. I always find it takes about a week for these reflexes to soften.
And what does that reflex do? Pull me out of the present moment.
For the past two years, I’ve gone offline social media for the summer, but this year I felt a tug earlier in May, so I listened. Podcast episodes were already scheduled, and my newsletters were (mostly) drafted and ready to go.
I didn’t share the birthday dinner I enjoyed at the most beautiful restaurant. I didn’t share pictures from the hotel my husband and I stayed at for two nights. I didn’t share the geese, or a host of other small moments.
I’m listing them here, but in these moments, I kept them to myself. I stayed present.
That’s what social media takes away—attention, one of our most precious commodities.
My first official summer of white space was in 2023. It was the result of months of planning, paving the way for the restoration I needed in many facets of life, writing included.
For a while it seemed as though nothing was happening, but two months turned into four, and then six or seven. I lost count. And as life slowed down, my body recalibrated, ideas formed, and my energy returned.
In 2024 there’s been a surge. I’ve finished essays and poems. I’ve submitted them to journals and received some rejections. Mostly, I’m still waiting, but I’m in the game and it feels good.
White space isn’t about not writing, although sometimes it can be. It’s more about clearing a path so you can write.
If you have no idea what I'm talking about or could use a refresher, listen to episodes 40 and 41 (linked below), where I share my journey to white space, and the lessons learned along the way.
We live in a world that demands a quick fix and glamorizes speed. But most of life’s most meaningful changes take time. It’s not what we want to hear, I know. We want the 6-week program to set us right, the 12-week protocol with guaranteed results, the checklist to follow, and the easy answers to solve our toughest questions.
Making lasting, sustainable changes in our lives isn’t easy. Healing from a lifetime of people-pleasing, overachieving, or a host of other things won’t happen overnight.
White space can help us with the clarity we’re seeking, and it always comes from within.
The problem is, we usually can’t hear it over all the noise.
So this is my invitation: What can you remove? Where can you pull back? How can you create more ease, work more slowly, and rest?
It doesn’t have to be everything. Think small. Change one thing, then another. Experiment, play, and give yourself a lot of grace in the process.
As for me, I have plans to work on something fun this summer, am keeping my fingers crossed on those submissions, can’t wait to eat my weight in nectarines, and will be reading in the hammock until the bugs come out.
I look forward to connecting again in the fall! If you’d like to chat or need some encouragement to explore your own version of white space, my inbox is open. Leave a comment here or just hit reply.
Until August or September,
Nicole
Enjoy those nectarines, Nicole! Your summer hiatus sounds like it will be glorious
These is such a lovely post. Thank you for remaining me to keep most of my presence to myself and enjoy the moment. 💞