Newsfast

Fasting while feasting

I’m a dedicated fan of Rick Wilson, co-founder of The Lincoln Project, and a long-time political strategist and ad maker. So three days after the Nov 8 election, when Rick advised his Substack readers to “take Twitter off your phone,” I did so. Although I’d been checking the site almost hourly throughout the election, I suddenly knew I was ready for a break.

I haven’t really read any news since my husband Bart and I slunk home from our election watch party the moment the direction became clear. We instinctively avoided discussing the outcome, as did the very active What’s App group I share with my siblings, all of whom hold similar views when it comes to politics.

But bailing on Twitter proved to be a watershed. Once I was off it, I became vividly aware of how much time I’d spent following every twist and turn of events. This made some sense in the run-up to the election, given my fierce devotion to doing what I could to make a difference: donating money, sending postcards, helping moderate Zoom calls aimed at turning out the vote.

But after November 8, there wasn’t much I could do beyond offering an opinion– I’m not a political reporter, so I don’t have any stories to break. I realized that the best way I could use my time in a world that had confounded my confident expectations was to focus on my own leadership work, while also making myself more available for family, friends, colleagues, neighbors, readers, and participants in my workshops. As well as strangers who cross my path.

I’ve written often about the benefits of aligning our circle of concern (what we care about) with our circle of control (where we can have an impact). I lifted the phrase from the late Steven Covey, who noted that doing so enables us to preserve our energy while also being highly effective. And while I’ve long believed this is a wise approach, I now felt challenged to practice it in an intentional and disciplined way.

For me, this meant unsubscribing to the political Substacks I’d been greedily consuming for most of the year. And not reading those I couldn’t bear to cancel, either out of loyalty or friendship. I also unsubscribed to the newspapers and news sites I’d routinely read for decades, and deleted NPR from my car radio go-tos. And when someone brought up a political topic in conversation, I gently asked if we could change the subject.

By making these choices, I went from being hyper-informed about the political world to being almost entirely ignorant. Some friends found this disturbing. “Why are you sticking your head in the sand? Aren’t you curious about what’s going on?”

Not really.

I don’t expect my news fast to last for more than a few months, or perhaps a year. I grew up on politics and have passionately followed every election since the 6th grade. It’s a family tradition. But fasting is the right choice for me right now, enabling me to spend my time in a way that makes sense while also detoxing from the fear and loathing I sense around me.

Perhaps most importantly, this practice enables me to maintain my long-standing belief that those who see the world differently than I do are for the most part decent and good at heart. As I wrote last week, I think maintaining this belief is imperative right now, giving us a way to move forward in a wildly uncertain time. And it’s certainly an appropriate frame of mind for the feast of Thanksgiving, the purpose of which has always been to bring people together in a spirit of gratitude and belonging.

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