Everything is moving so fast. The news cycle. Scientific breakthroughs. Records shattered in sports. Even the earth's magnetic poles are shifting faster than ever. We are so connected to it all, caught in a maelstrom of fear and anger, dopamine hits and laughter. Dip your toes into the waters of TikToks, reels, push notifications, and 24/7 streams, and you get dragged down into dark depths where you cannot tell up from down, where right and left blur, and even familiar faces no longer feel like home.
I want to turn off my screen, but then I am afraid of missing out. And if it comes to it, the world will still be ending even if I close my eyes. But if the world is ending, do I have to look? Sometimes I feel like I have an obligation to engage and consume and sometimes that is expected. “Did you not see what they did?” “Have you not heard what they said?”
I cannot answer these questions. Instead, I go out to clear my head. As I start running, I can only think of one of these things at a time. The answers do not suddenly come to me. Most do not come at all.
Before I know it, I am just running. My mind wanders a path of its own choosing, with no algorithm but my own to follow. I find myself thinking about creative projects I've started. I get ideas and record them onto my phone in between labored breaths. If I were conscious about it, I might have felt like I was getting somewhere, and maybe I am.
After about an hour, I come around a bend in the trail. Before me, a shallow stream has melted out a patch of snow. I step on the wet rocks that have been unveiled—rocks I hav not seen in months. My shoes get soaked, and my feet freeze in the ice-cold water. I start moving again, and quickly forget, as blood rushes back to my extremities. It reminds me that even though there is much I cannot control, I am capable of making things happen. Good things, even.
On my way home, I stop and take a photo of the stream, which I immediately post to my Instagram story. It is part of the web now—the same web I feel so caught in.
Before I leave, however, I choose to take my gloves off and dip them into the water. The chill brings out the warmth inside me; a reminder that even in a world spinning out of control, I can still choose. ”I chose this. I chose this.”

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