The rest is part of the making of the music – LB Cowman
I have a love-hate relationship with Twitter.
My ambivalence toward the platform is different from most tweeter’s. Many social media users who dislike Twitter do so because of the mean-spirited comments, the constant drama, the bullying, the hate that can be found there.
I avoid the Sturm und Drang by following one simple rule: I follow runners.
Twitter’s running community is almost unfailingly cheerful and supportive. Runners describe their latest efforts on Twitter and receive a flurry of positive feedback.
“I ran six miles this morning.”
“Way to go!”
And so forth.
That is the appeal and the problem.
My word for the year is “empty“. I aim to cultivate emptiness. The “vast inner void” spoken of by St. John of the Cross is what I seek.
I believe that only by emptying myself of my “self” can I make room for God’s light and love to enter.
Bragging on social media about running exploits seems to run counter to that goal.
When I first began blogging, a friendly group of book bloggers took me under their collective wing and taught me the ropes.
I initially pictured blogging as a solitary activity. They showed me how to follow other bloggers and how to comment on their posts. They taught me about the community aspect of blogging, which I treasure.
I promptly started neglecting my Facebook page but found some runners to follow on Twitter and began interacting with them.
Twitter is fun, fast, and satisfying. Speedy runners are congratulated. So are slow runners, old runners, and intermittent runners. We are all celebrated, no matter how minor our accomplishments.
This can be a good thing.
You don’t have to be as fast and lithe as a Kenyan to be praised.
New moms are lauded for making time to get out and run two miles while pushing a stroller. Runners with creaky knees or tight hamstrings are commended for their tenacity. People facing adversity in the form of mental illness, rheumatoid arthritis, or even a cancer diagnosis receive acclaim for their courage and persistence.
But sometimes, when describing my latest run on Twitter, it feels a little bit like fishing for compliments. Do I really need validation from Twitter to feel full?
I like Twitter. I enjoy interacting with the running community there. I would miss it if I left, but maybe it is time to go.
Just because I like something doesn’t mean it is good for me.
I like ice cream too, but gave it up (mostly) when I started a diet that eliminated added sugar to lower my cholesterol.
Maybe it’s time for a no-Twitter diet.
Living an intentional life sometimes involves making uncomfortable choices. I’m comfortable with that.
Searching for the rest between the notes may not be compatible with tweeting.
You can find the places I link up here.