Touch Some Grass, Hug a Tree, Remember Joy

There comes a point when the noise gets too loud. Not just outside of you, but inside. The scrolling, the clicking, the constant stream of information that never truly nourishes you—just keeps you coming back for more. One day you realize that you’re not consuming the internet anymore. The internet is consuming you.

That’s where I found myself. So I deleted all social media, including YouTube.

Not because I don't love all the gardening, fashion or other pages I once found interesting. Nor was it because I’m against learning, growing or being inspired, but because what my feed was serving me no longer aligned with what I valued. The algorithm kept pushing content I didn’t ask for. Voices I didn’t trust. Half-truths dressed up as wisdom. Performances disguised as teaching. And no matter how much I tried to recalibrate what I saw, the platforms weren't nourishing me—they were draining me.

And I know I’m not the only one.

So many people wake up each day and without even thinking—they reach for their phones. They check their feed. They check the news. They scroll through short videos, posts, headlines, and “life advice” from strangers. They do this before speaking a word to another human. Before grounding themselves. Before even checking in with their own thoughts.

Then they wonder why they feel anxious. Sad. Heavy. Disconnected.

But the internet isn’t neutral.
It’s not a harmless place to “just see what’s happening.”
It’s a world designed to capture your attention—and often at the cost of your peace.
The longer you stay online, the easier it becomes to lose track of what’s real.

And that’s where so many are now—stuck in a distorted version of life, shaped by:

• Headlines built on fear
• Influencers selling recycled wisdom
• Content creators pretending to be healers
• Comment sections filled with outrage
• Endless noise with no substance

It’s spiritual exhaustion disguised as entertainment. It’s emotional fatigue repackaged as staying informed. It’s nervous system overload, 24/7.

And the worst part?
Most people never stop to ask how it’s actually making them feel.

They never pause to notice the tightness in their chest after watching back-to-back tragedy.
They don’t question the heaviness in their spirit after listening to someone rant for ten minutes straight.
They don’t ask why their body feels tense, their hope feels low, or their energy is flat.

They’ve been consuming pain so often, it’s become normal.

But here’s the truth:
You are not meant to carry the weight of the world every time you open an app.
You are not meant to be informed about every tragedy as it unfolds in real-time.
You are not meant to form your worldview through a screen that profits from your fear.

You’re meant to feel the sun.
You’re meant to move your body.
You’re meant to laugh out loud, in real time, with real people.
You’re meant to breathe deeply, not just scroll endlessly.

And you’re especially not meant to sit in your house, day after day, forming opinions about a world you’re no longer participating in.

Because yes, there are problems in the world.
There are hard things.
But there are also people falling in love, helping strangers, healing their bodies, planting gardens, dancing with their children, walking in the park, and waking up to something beautiful every single day.

You just won’t find most of that online.

The media doesn’t make money off peace.
The algorithm doesn’t reward stillness.
Your favorite app doesn’t care if you’re spiritually fried—as long as you keep scrolling.

So this is your invitation to log off.
Not forever. But for long enough to come back to yourself.

Here’s a question worth asking:
What did you love doing before the internet became your default escape?
What filled your spirit back when life was slower, simpler, more rooted in realness?

Because you can get that back. And more importantly, you deserve to.

Here’s a list to start with. A reminder of what’s still available to you, right now, no subscription required:

Touch Some Grass: Things You Can Do Solo

• Go for a walk with no destination
• Sit in a patch of sun and say nothing
• Read a physical book, not a headline
• Take yourself on a silent drive
• Visit a thrift store or bookstore and explore without agenda
• Go to the park and people-watch
• Paint something badly, just for fun
• Journal how you really feel—no filters
• Try a new recipe and slow down enough to enjoy it
• Meditate under a tree, barefoot if you can

Hug a Tree: Ways to Reconnect With Others

• Call someone you haven’t talked to in a while
• Meet a friend for coffee—no phones on the table
• Ask your neighbor how they’re doing
• Volunteer at a local shelter or pantry
• Organize a potluck, even if it’s just with one other person
• Visit a farmer’s market and have actual conversations
• Invite someone to go on a walk or hike with you
• Say hello to strangers and mean it

Remember Joy: Real-World Experiences That Reconnect You

• Go to a small-town festival or fair
• Watch children play and remember what that felt like
• Attend a local concert, open mic, or art show
• Plant something—even if it’s just a few herbs
• Sit outside during golden hour and do absolutely nothing
• Explore your city like a tourist
• Take a day trip with no agenda
• Go to the zoo, museum, or botanical garden
• Dance in your kitchen with the music loud
• Go outside tonight and look at the stars

Life was never supposed to feel this artificial.
You were never meant to be this emotionally attached to headlines.
You were never meant to base your identity on what an algorithm decides to show you.

You were meant to live. To feel. To connect.
Not with five million people you’ll never meet—but with your life, your body, your joy, and your spirit.

And no one’s going to hand that back to you.
You have to choose it.

You have to notice when the feed is feeding you fear.
You have to ask yourself how you feel after you log off.
You have to protect your nervous system like your peace depends on it—because it does.

You don’t need another guru.
You don’t need another “how to” video.
You need air. And sun. And silence.
You need real connection and real presence.
You need to touch some grass, hug a tree, and remember joy.

Pause for a Moment and Ask Yourself: When was the last time I truly felt alive, and what am I willing to unplug from so I can feel that again?