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Dear Subscriber First Name, Last week someone asked me what I do for work, and I surprised myself by answering, “Among other things, I’m a writer.” I love having the opportunity to write. But, I never anticipated how much being a writer, whose joy can be found in a reverence for words, would land me in a “profession” where tracking the impact of what I write through quantifiable data would be so important. Call me naive, but I had no idea that racking up numbers would count so much. Trying to figure out how to dance - or even flirt - with the various public platforms available to writers (and all of us as media “consumers”) these days is dizzying for me. I do not want to be a servant to promotion rather than having it serve what I am trying to say. When folks ask how to connect with me on social media, I gulp, and then I sigh. If you try to find me on Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, or Substack, you might conclude that I am a luddite, or that I don’t care much about growing my work or my “audience.” You might find my virtual non-existence bewildering or off-putting. You may think I am short-sighted because of opportunities I am missing, or frustrated that people have to look hard to find and share my writing. I have actually heard this feedback from people recently. I guess one social media post a year doesn’t prove how much I actually do care. There are so many ways to show we care. There are so many ways to matter and make a difference. But how do any of us gauge our impact? How do we measure success? Relevance? We are told that numbers matter, but can their fickleness tell any kind of true story? Can we actually measure what matters by numbers such as Likes? Loves? Followers? Comments? Shares? Supporters? Members? Reviews? Subscribers? Or perhaps, as a writer, our ranking on the Amazon or NY Times bestseller list? Here’s what is true for me: The insatiable quest for more disrupts my ability to notice the richness of all that is already astounding. It puts contentment beyond reach, and challenges my capacity for gratefulness. And especially if the “more” I am chasing is centered on metrics that suggest approval, it renders me quivery. It can start to feel addictive. Measures can put us into a chase; "wanting mind,” striving, pursuing, grasping, clinging. The chase for numbers easily leads to comparison, judgment, competitiveness, even if it’s only with one’s self. The drive for growth fixates me on outcomes and it takes the focus away from my love for the process. It can steal the purity of my intentions and my trust. And it puts me out of alignment with the values I hold most dear. With the skyrocketing rise of technology, including AI, there is so much unchecked in our world and so many people jockeying for personal gain and notoriety. We are in a time where being an “influencer” is one of the top “careers” young people identify. It feels like an insatiable economy of approval, and I am wary of these things. If I find myself checking too much on how anything I have written is being received, I know I’m caught in a slippery approval loop. I need to step away as soon as I notice the pull. I need to get myself out into the natural world and turn my attention toward noticing the birds, the clouds, the trees, the people…the things that actually count. When I was in my 20’s I wanted to design T-shirts with people’s vulnerabilities and insecurities emblazoned across the chest. Stripping away pretenses appealed a lot to me then - it still does. I loved the T-shirt idea - I still do. At the time, my shirt was going to say to everyone, and to no one in particular, “I care too much what you think about me.” There it would have been: a few honest words emblazoned on cotton jersey over my tender heart and skin. Thank goodness we mature. Thank goodness for my 30’s and every decade I have been granted since then, as the years have softened the edges of all manner of my preoccupations and have shown me how our vulnerabilities can actually become our strengths. Still, most of us live with vestiges of the emotional drivers that shaped us in our early lives. While my old fixation on approval has morphed into a more mature concern about mattering and meaning-making, I know I’m still vulnerable, but aren’t we all? The T-shirt I want to wear now is going to simply pronounce, “I care.” No “too much” or “not enough” about it. No approval or apologies required. Caring matters, and it counts, a lot. And it’s the source of so much needed human connection and kindness in our world these days. May the words and resources in this museletter, and on my website, support you to feel grateful for all that seeks your notice as “enough.” Know that I am honored by your presence here. From my grateful heart to yours -
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