"To live will be an awfully big adventure" - Peter Pan

Over the past two(ish) months, I created and posted daily content for my Instagram, Facebook, and TikTok. My effort paid off as I saw growth on literally every single key performance indicator (followers, engagement, views, accounts reached, etcetera). It was a nightmare of my own design.

I began to believe the very lies that I was so trying to combat in the content that I was creating. Every video that I make, every blog that I write, and every story that I tell, is ultimately about being a good character in God’s story. Everything I create is meant to be about living a full, beautiful life that is full of real, tangible moments that are shared between you, the people there, and God.

Unfortunately, I became so consumed with creating engaging content that I forgot my own message. I was no longer creating content that I believed to be beautiful and valuable, but content that I thought was entertaining and engaging. It was content that I believed could hold an entire 15 seconds in an unknowable person’s near-infinite doom scroll.

In the pursuit of this sad, small goal, I began to forget the joy of truly creating and living. I forgot to leave my phone on my desk and stomp off into the forest, book and hammock in tow. I forgot to dance in the rain, to gape at sunsets, and to raise my worship to my God. I forgot to watch the honey bees flit from flower to flower. I forgot to stop and listen to the wind’s tangled flow mingle with the symphony of cicadas and birds. I forgot to hop on my longboard and get lost down a maze of disturbingly similar neighborhoods. I forgot to LIVE.

It was in the chase of creating content that I forgot to actually CREATE. I forgot to really write. To really draw. I forgot to make scrapbooks (digital or not): I forgot to take pictures and videos of the things that I wanted to see. Gosh. I stopped writing because of the burning in my soul: forgetting that if I didn’t siphon that terribly wonderful sensation through my fingertips it would boil my bones.

It was then that I rediscovered a masterful piece by Charles Bukowski called, “So, you want to be a writer?” The opening, which brings tears to my eyes, goes like this:

if it doesn't come bursting out of you in spite of everything, don't do it. unless it comes unasked out of your heart and your mind and your mouth and your gut, don't do it.

Those simply beautiful lines wrecked me, convicting my ever-numbing heart… but they also reminded me. Like sparks to the kindling of my soul, they reminded me that there are, in-fact, adventures to be had. Stories to be written. Hammocks to be hung. Books to be read. Fish to be caught. Bows to be nocked. Sticks to be whittled. Fireflies to be caught. I haven’t been stung by enough bees, nor burnt by the sun nearly enough times. There are perfectly smooth stones begging to be scooped up and skipped. Trails that need to be explored. My fingers weren’t nearly calloused enough, and I hadn’t fallen off my longboard in such a long time. The bottoms of my feet were tragically clean. My soul lamentably starved.

There’s a 3D work of art all around you, full of all the content you’ll ever need. Don’t let the 2D world in your pocket distract you: you were created for more: So, so, so much more.

So, I dare you to close your laptop, to tuck your phone away back into the desk drawer where it belongs. Hide your “smart” watch in your sock drawer. Lose your AirPods in the wash. I dare you to stomp in a puddle, to run your toes through the grass. To leave your house with a good book and return with an even better sunburn. I’m begging you to catch fireflies and sit around bonfires. Please, do yourself a favor and get lost in the woods. Lose track of time watching the setting sun paint the sky with gentle oranges and vibrant pinks as he sinks down for his slumber. Get stung by bees and bitten by spiders. Eat burnt smores and share laughs. For goodness sake scrape your knee and break your wrist. Do something, anything. Please.

"To live will be an awfully big adventure"- Peter Pan