Notes On: Finding Connection in a Disconnected World
"An enemy is one whose story we have not heard." — Gene Knudsen Hoffman
It's week three of my social media break (with occasional check-ins for work and friends), and last week, I briefly logged into Instagram to see the flood of posts about Trump's first days back in office. The experience crystallized something for me: In times when fundamental rights are being challenged and truth itself seems to slip through our fingers, our instinct might be to scroll more, to stay constantly connected to the news cycle. But the result? We become short-tempered, black-and-white thinkers, seeing enemies instead of humans.
When the world feels too heavy, the answer isn't more scrolling—it's more reading. Not the rushed updates of social media, but real stories—deep, true ones. Stories that connect our past journeys with others' experiences, illuminating not just where we've been but all the places we might still go.
They can alter platforms and policies, but they cannot take away our stories. They cannot erase our knowledge. And most importantly, they cannot silence our voices.
The Freedom is in The Pages
Here's something I've discovered in these three weeks away from social media: there's a profound difference between how you start your day with reading versus scrolling. These days, I find myself waking up at 5:30 AM, excited to spend a few quiet hours with a book before the world wakes up. Try doom-scrolling for a few hours before starting your day and see how you feel – anxious, drained, maybe even angry at the world. But reading? It charges me up. Fills me with ideas and possibilities.
The pages of a book don't manipulate your emotions with algorithms. They don't push you toward outrage or despair. Instead, they give you space to think, to feel, to process. It's been surprisingly freeing to replace the endless scroll with bound pages. Who knew that limiting your information diet could actually expand your mind?
The Missing Connection
I'm halfway through "Chasing the Scream" by Johann Hari, and it's been transformative. On its surface, it's a book about the war on drugs, starting with its origins under Harry Anslinger in the 1930s. But beneath that, it's an exploration of human connection and disconnection.
There's a passage that stopped me. Hari shares Bruce Alexander's insight that "today's flood of addiction is occurring because our hyperindividualistic, frantic, crisis-ridden society makes most people feel social[ly] or culturally isolated. Chronic isolation causes people to look for relief. They find temporary relief in addiction... because [it] allows them to escape their feelings, to deaden their senses—and to experience an addictive lifestyle as a substitute for a full life."
This really hit home for me, especially paired with another observation about our fundamental nature: "Human beings evolved in small bands of hunter-gatherers on the savannahs of Africa. The tribe was your only way to survive. If you feel that you have been stripped of a tribe and its rituals you will become deeply unhappy: a human on the savannah who was alone against the world would almost certainly have died."
Beyond the Bubble: What Growing Up Southern Taught Me About Connection
When Trump won the presidency again, I watched two distinct reactions unfold. My friends from New York and California were shocked, their jaws on the floor. But those of us who grew up in the South, in places like Western North Carolina? We weren't surprised.
This isn't about political analysis—I'm no expert. But it is about understanding how isolation and disconnection shape our reality. Those of us from the South often have Trump supporters as neighbors, family members, friends. And while this isn't exclusive to the South, there's something about growing up here that gives you a different perspective: these are complex human beings, not caricatures to make fun of.
My Trump-supporting neighbors back home are beautiful humans who've taught me valuable lessons. I may disagree with their fundamentals, but I have the understanding and bandwidth to love them deeply, human to human. This kind of empathy and open-mindedness isn't what social media algorithms tend to reward.
The isolation that social media perpetuates has influenced us to avoid people who disagree with us, who vote for "the other side". It doesn't help us see each other as human beings, who may be scared and lonely and are screaming for help in ways we may not understand.
A Different Path Forward
I really hope that these next four years we don't blame Trump supporters for Trump's winning, or even the people who chose not to vote, but instead focus on building bridges. I know that sounds sappy as hell, but do I think we'd be in this situation if we weren't so divided? No.
What if we used the energy we're spending on anger differently? What if instead of criticizing those who voted differently or didn't vote, we:
Educated ourselves about how we got here
Pressured our government and administration for change
Got active in our communities
Built real connections across divides
Taking Action Through Connection
When helplessness creeps in (and it does, especially watching from across an ocean in France), I've found three ways to stay grounded and connected:
Supporting Local Community: I make monthly donations to HelpMate, a domestic violence shelter in Asheville, North Carolina. Their services helped my family when I was young. There's something powerful about supporting organizations that create real connection and community.
Preserving Knowledge Access: I also make monthly donations to Internet Archive, ensuring universal access to books, media, and information online. In a time when truth feels increasingly fragile, they're doing crucial work making knowledge freely available to everyone.
Reading Women’s Stories: For an instant dose of hope and motivation, dive into women's stories. Women are the backbone of this world and the energetic frequency of our deepest selves. Their narratives aren't just stories; they're roadmaps for resistance, resilience, and hope.
Moving Forward Together
Maybe the antidote to our current crisis isn't more information, but deeper connection. Maybe it's:
Reading books that challenge our perspectives
Having difficult conversations with people we disagree with
Supporting organizations that build community
Sharing our stories and listening to others, especially those whose voices often go unheard
Remember: In a world trying to keep us scrolling and separate, choosing to connect deeply—through stories, through action, through difficult conversations—is a radical act.
Until next time,
EG
"If you want to make peace with your enemy, you have to work with your enemy. Then he becomes your partner." — Nelson Mandela
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Current Reads & Resources:
"Chasing the Scream" by Johann Hari
HelpMate (domestic violence shelter, Asheville, NC)
Internet Archive (universal access to knowledge)