What happens when you keep the Zoom camera on?
“I started getting up every morning and I would give myself an hour to write. One hour… the deal I made with myself is every single day I would push “publish.” — Glennon Doyle
I thought long and hard about whether to publish a blog post this month.
On the one hand, I have so much time. Time to bask in the process of writing. Time to get it just right.
On the other hand, as of this moment, I’ve written half of five different posts, each of them falling flat before I figured out what exactly I was trying to say. It’s hard to write about your experience out in the world as a highly sensitive person when you’ve been inside all day…
Social distancing is lifting the veil on the difference between how we present, and who we are.
Recently I’ve taken to “Instagram meditating” — a term coined by a friend to help us feel better about the hours spent peeking into other people’s lives via an app from my couch.
One of my favorite windows is into the world of Abby Wambach and Glennon Doyle, author of the NY Times #1 Bestseller Untamed, and founder of non-profit Together Rising. The couple’s love story will bring you to tears — from sadness, laughter and joy.
Recently, Glennon shared how she started writing. It was an outpouring — of her experience, her feelings, her thoughts. She needed somewhere to put it, so she committed to writing every day.
“Art. The art that comforts us and challenges us is not about showing off or being perfect, it’s about showing yourself.” — Glennon Doyle
I heard the line, and grabbed my computer.
(possibly after midnight? Quarantine does strange things to sleep schedules.)
To date, it has been easy to find sparks of inspiration. The moment that creates meaning out of memory. That helps me understand more about myself, and through that learning, more about the world.
Part of me loves the solitude ushered in with this crisis.
For once, I have near complete control over my environment. I decide with whom and how to engage. I have time to reflect, read, or chill on a blanket in Golden Gate park and (current favorite) my couch.
And yet, it’s hard to find new moments from the same routine, day after day.
What could I write that wasn’t cliche? That wasn’t already said by other writers on their own couches, fighting the same fears, and going through their own routines day in and out?
“That is how I avoided perfectionism. I just decided that after an hour, whatever I was writing, it was good enough. Better done than perfect.” — Glennon Doyle
For me, Glennon’s words aren’t simply about writing, though they did undo my writer’s block.
Her words are about EVERYTHING right now.
We’ve held onto the illusion of control — on how we present ourselves, and are perceived — for so long, we’ve forgotten we’re all real underneath.
Social distancing is lifting the veil on the difference between how we present, and who we are.
That thought provoking, awe inspiring blog post? No chance.
The highly articulate email? Nope.
The fashionable outfit, with a purse and manicure to match?
Heck, that warm smile and a calm, poised demeanor?
I love these little efforts. But underneath is still the REALNESS. It’s who we are before the primping, editing and perfecting.
It’s who we are when the kid or the dog keeps us up all night (or barges in mid-meeting); when we have to pick up an important call in the middle of a lunchtime shower (not naming names); when we’re jittery from too much sugar, coffee, or pure isolation; or, when we just feel “blah” while we want to be “wow!”
Staying at home is removing our ability, time or perhaps will to invest in what we want to be, instead of who and where we are.
It’s making us have to show up as REAL.
And yet, the transition is far from automatic, and can feel incredibly uncomfortable and vulnerable.
We’ve held onto the illusion of control — on how we present ourselves, and are perceived — for so long, we’ve forgotten we’re all real underneath.
No matter what we do or how much we prepare, the raw, vulnerable US is always there. Now she’s just a little more HERE, too.
So what would happen if I turned my Zoom camera on?
These past few months I’ve kept up my yoga practice with virtual live sessions, thanks to the one and only Nat Kendall (+1000% recommend).
At the beginning of every class, Nat starts with 10 minutes of meditation and chanting. I usually join for this section, but I’ve been keeping my camera off.
Why?
Because rather than sitting on the floor with my eyes closed, I’m usually singing and dancing around my living room, curled up on the couch with tea, or (if i’m being honest) hurriedly putting away a day’s worth of used mugs and plates, clothes and blankets (from aforementioned cuddling).
I’m present to the spiritual exercise, but I’m not doing it the way I expect myself too.
So I turn my camera off.
But does Nat care how I practice? Heck no!
But I care. As a devoted yogi and former yoga instructor, I want to be sitting on the floor cross legged, deep in meditation.
Yet after 9+ hours of sitting at work, with my mat rolled out 3 feet from my coffee table turned desk, it just isn’t happening. This girl has gotta move.
So what would happen if I turned my Zoom camera on?
Perhaps others would also get up and dance. Perhaps they would leave the room altogether. Perhaps they’d stay exactly where they are.
“I started getting up every morning and I would give myself an hour to write. One hour… the deal I made with myself is every single day I would push “publish.” — Glennon Doyle
By hitting publish after exactly one hour of writing, Glennon is able to maintain her practice of writing each day. What’s more, she’s able to keep showing up. And because she isn’t willing to give herself the space to perfect, she’s showing up as real.
What about you? Where can you hit publish, turn on your camera, or otherwise let your self be fully seen?
Where can you show up as real?
