Yappy Sunday 002

I am painfully addicted to my phone. I know I’m not the only one who doom-scrolls to numbness, thinks “ugh, I have to stop”, and closes an app—just to mindlessly reopen it seconds later. My weekly screen time report is a regularly scheduled shame game where I’m relieved to see any number under 12.

On top of the 30+ hours of reading I’m assigned weekly that is largely done on my laptop, I’m an audiobook warrior, a dedicated podcast listener, a TikTok fiend, and the type of pisces who will play the same album on repeat until the end of time. I am ceaselessly curious, I love to be stimulated, and I hate to be left alone with my own thoughts. So, even when I get to take a break from the mandatory staring into screens of varying sizes, most activities that fill my days are paired with an audio accompaniment.

Tending to my altar? My Sunday Morning playlist is on.

Cleaning the kitchen? I’m listening to an audiobook.

Stretching on the vibration plate? I’m getting my latest astrological downloads from Chani or Jessica.

But my walks to campus? Those are my exception.

Back on the west coast, the idea of going for a walk alone without headphones wouldn’t have felt worth considering. But here in my new and increasingly chilly Camberville bubble, my 1.5 mile commute to and from campus has become my favorite ritual of reflection and observation.

When I was apartment hunting, having the option to walk to campus was top of mind, but I had no idea how sacred these walking journeys would be. Every day, I pack my headphones into my backpack “just in case,” but I almost never reach for them. Instead, I take a thirty minute break from absorbing someone else’s words, and walk with myself.

Instead, I notice which trees look different than they did the day before and wonder if the rabbits will be here through the winter. Instead, I think about my classes and my readings and ask more questions into the abyss that is my consciousness than I will ever have the time to find the answers to. Instead, I tear up thinking about how grateful I am for these little moments that I spent so long dreaming about. Instead, I smile at strangers that don’t smile back and, unfazed (I think), wonder if I’ve got 19 more months of that in me. Instead, I replay the moments of kindness and affirmation from my professors and peers that make me think that maybe I’m here for a reason. Instead, I think about how lonely I am and how desperately I could use a hug. Instead, I build out my grocery list in my mind, and talk myself into cooking dinner when I’d love to order out. Instead, I listen to the sounds of the city I’ve made home, at least for now, and the stirrings of the soul that lead me here.