I want to start this week’s newsletter by thanking you for being so supportive of the shift I’ve made in my work this season. Truthfully, I spent a few months’ time worrying about making this change, but your response has been overwhelmingly positive and made me excited about the future. Thank you. :)

When I first started thinking about the kinds of conversations I wanted us to have going forward, I wrote down a combination of two words over and over again in my messy notes, and realized I would have to begin by describing it—it being the term “mindful consumer”. While I don’t always like calling myself a minimalist, I will happily say “I’m a mindful consumer”. As someone who has been a binge consumer of many things, it almost feels like a gift. So, when I got an email expressing some concern that I was calling us all consumers, I knew it was time to explain what it means to me—and it started when I took back the meaning of the c-word.

By most definitions, a consumer = a person who purchases goods and services. Even if that sounds a little gross, it does describe all of us. If you’ve ever bought groceries or paid for someone to help you with anything, you are a consumer. So far, this word feels ok to me.

A consumer also = a person who eats or uses things. Again, that’s all of us! If you’ve eaten food or drank water, or worn clothes or watched/read something, you are a consumer. To that end, it’s safe to say a consumer = a living and breathing human being.

When I look at it that way, the word doesn’t bother me. Where it starts to feel dirty is when you think about how many companies out there use the word “consumer” to describe us, as they come up with strategies to make us consume things we don’t need. They study our behaviours and our insecurities. They implement strategies to see what works. And they write entire books to share their findings with others, so even more people can try to get + alter our attention. Because more than any other statement I’ve made here, that feels the truest: it’s not just that they want our money. They want our attention. They know we, as humans, are consumers, they want to make sure we are consuming them, and it starts by getting our attention.

Starting to feel icky yet? I am—or I was, until I decided to take back the meaning of the word. Instead of worrying about what companies were thinking of me as, I embraced the fact that a consumer = a living and breathing human being. And there’s something kind of beautiful about that.

I am a human with a mind + body that takes in a lot of things every day. Because of that mind + body, I am able to breathe, think, feel, touch, smell, taste, hear, talk and see what is all around me. I am consuming the world, because I am a consumer.

And not just a “conscious consumer”. That is someone who votes with their dollars, and chooses to buy things that are ethically and/or sustainably produced. This is a noble cause, and one I believe in too! But it still focuses on the goods/services aspect of being a consumer and, as you can tell, I like to go deeper. That’s why I’ve embraced the idea of being a mindful consumer. It means I use my mind + body to pay attention to what I’m consuming, why, and how it makes me feel. The key phrase being: I pay attention. I can thank my human capabilities for that. :)

So, if you’ve noticed that I’m calling us all consumers lately, that’s because I am. We are consumers! And there’s nothing dirty or wrong about it. We are consumers because we are humans. And because we are humans, we are equipped with the ability to pay attention, think and make choices.

Choices about what we buy. What we eat and drink. What we read and watch and listen to. What kinds of conversations we have and with whom. We aren’t stupid. And we aren’t just our insecurities or our behaviours. We are human beings who consume things, and those things affect us. You could even say those things can consume us.

“I am a consumer. And I want to respect my attention, energy and time.”

You can start saying this to the people + companies you think need to be reminded that you are a human being.

And then give it to yourself. :)

x Cait

This was originally shared in my newsletter.

Last week, I returned home from a retreat in California. What I thought was going to be a creativity workshop being taught by two of my favourite authors ended up being more like two days of therapy being provided by them. While I know that the work was important for many of the people in the audience, it was work I had already done for myself over the past couple of years. Acknowledging and pushing through my fears? Yep, I’m basically always doing that. Actively pursuing things I want and creating an engaged life? It was fun to write the list of ways I’d done that recently. And trusting my clarity? I’ve been doing that, too (and is what helped me quit all the projects I’d been working on).

As I wrote each of the prescribed letters to myself, and then exchanged the words with strangers, I started to feel like I shouldn’t be there. I wasn’t going to the deep, dark places other people seemed to be venturing into. I wasn’t crying or having any kind of emotional reaction at all. I was just writing facts on paper. When others opened up and shared parts of themselves with me, I felt guilty for only giving them a few facts in return. I also hated that the whole setup reminded me of the documentary I Am Not Your Guru. It felt like a gross waste of money. So, when I realized day two was going to be a repeat of a workshop I’d done in London, I decided to skip it and sit with these thoughts.

Looking back now, I can see that might have been the most important thing I did all weekend: taken a step back. It gave me time to think about why I had signed up in the first place, as well as why I was disappointed in what it had ended up being. Sitting alone with my thoughts also prevented me from bringing other people down with me. Because, yes, I was disappointed and I did feel like I wasted my money. I could have moaned or complained. I also could have taken to social media and told others how annoyed I was. Or worse yet, used the event hashtag so the attendees/organizers could have heard my opinion too. But I knew it wasn’t meant to be shared.

And the reason I knew I shouldn’t share this is because that was my experience—not theirs. And it didn’t feel fair for me to alter someone else’s experience in an attempt to match mine (especially when mine was negative).

This has been, perhaps, one of the hardest things for me to learn—and actually practice—since embracing mindfulness: the art of not complaining. And I won’t pretend I’m good at it. Honestly, I think I’m just getting started. There are stats that say we tell anywhere from 2-10x as many people about a bad experience, compared to a good experience. Why is that? I don’t know, because I truly am just starting to think about this. What I do know is that the art of constant complaining is the main reason I deleted my Facebook profile + page, and finally decided to walk away from Twitter. I used to do it too, so zero judgment from me, but I simply grew tired of being dragged down.

So, instead of dragging anyone down at the workshop, I went for a hike then sat outside by one of the fire pits and wrote in my journal. After listing all the things I was feeling about the experience (including frustration about the non-stop pitches to visit the gift shop, which I did talk about on Instagram in a way that would hopefully open reader’s eyes to how often it happens) I asked myself why I was there. Why had I bought a ticket for this event? The answer had a few layers of influence.

1. I saw one of the author’s share it on Instagram.
2. It felt like a once in a lifetime opportunity.
3. I didn’t think there would be many tickets available.
4. I was in a bad place and wanted something to look forward to.

Now, let’s really break that down:

• Influence #1: my love of the author’s work (which is why I follow her).
• Influence #2: a desire/dream.
• Influence #3: a scarcity mindset (which is behind many impulse purchases).
• Influence #4: my mental health.

Notice that none of those things are anyone else’s fault. They all had to do with me. I had no one to “blame” for wasting money but myself. I made the decision to buy the ticket. As for not enjoying the content of the workshops, I can take some of the blame for that too—and it’s not all bad blame. The reason I didn’t enjoy the workshops was because I didn’t need them. And the reason I didn’t need them was because I’d already done a lot of that work for myself. If I hadn’t gone, I might not have realized just how far I’ve come this year. So, what would I complain about? Why is that anyone else’s problem? Why is it a problem at all?

When we talk about becoming mindful consumers, we are looking at how outside things/experiences affect us on the inside. What we eat affects how we feel, what we read/watch/listen to affects how we think, what we consume affects what we create, and so on. We can talk about how all of those things influence us, and two weeks ago I did suggest you start keeping track of what you consume. But the “mindful” part means being conscious and aware of what’s happening in the present moment, and that includes recognizing your role in influencing each moment as well. We can’t blame everything on everyone else. Who we are today influences us as well.

This is one of the reasons I won’t leave negative book reviews. There are lots of books I read and don’t enjoy, but it’s not the author’s fault. It’s my fault I didn’t enjoy it. Either I already knew the advice (similar to the workshop, this is actually a good thing) or didn’t agree with the content or didn’t relate to the writing style. But it’s not the author’s fault they didn’t write the perfect book for me. They don’t know me. That’s too big of a demand! So, why would I complain about it—especially in a public forum, which could alter other people’s thoughts and stop someone from reading a book that could really help them? Who am I to think I should have any control over that?

My friend David once wrote that mindfulness is the opposite of neediness—and practicing it means “observing something without trying to immediately change it”. It’s noticing and accepting. And in the example of the workshop I attended, it was noticing that I was influencing my negative experience, and accepting ownership of that rather than blaming it on anyone else. Sometimes it seems easier to place blame or to act like a victim of circumstance. In fact, it’s a lot harder to recognize your role and take responsibility for it. But being able to see—and accept—that you are part of the equation makes you a better communicator, problem solver, and member of all your communities.

The original point of this newsletter was to get you to think about what influences you. But now I’m curious: how are you influencing yourself? And who are you influencing?

x Cait

This was originally shared in my newsletter.

Before I officially made the big decision to retire from blogging, I took a bunch of smaller steps toward it; dipped my toes in the water, so to speak. You might remember the first thing I did was decide to take two weeks off. After a month, I decided to take the entire summer off. And then I did a bunch of things behind the scenes that were less visible. After hearing my friend Paul say he removed Google Analytics from his website, it dawned on me that maybe I could do the same. Then I did a huge content audit and deleted 200+ posts from my site. And finally (I think this is the last one!?) I signed out of Twitter.

If you are a blogger or content creator, some of that might shock you. I’ve heard actual gasps come out of people’s mouths, when I mention the Google Analytics step, specifically. It’s a tool that keeps track of how many people visit your site, how many pages/posts they look at on average, which country/city they are located and so on. And if you’re trying to figure out how readers find you, so you can create more content that brings even more readers in, and ultimately build a huge audience who might pay you/earn you ad revenue, it’s a great tool! But that’s not my goal (and never was).

Still, when I first heard Paul say he had deleted Google Analytics, I let out a little gasp too. Because it goes against the narrative of what we are told we “should” do. And so, my first thought was that I couldn’t possibly delete it from my site—could I!? The more I questioned it, the more it became clear that I could. For starters, I couldn’t remember why I had installed it in the first place. I also never used it the way you’re “supposed to”. So if it didn’t have a purpose and I never used it, why did I have it!? (Also a question to ask when decluttering!) There was no good answer, so I let it go. Hit delete and said goodbye.

Taking a bunch of smaller steps toward the idea of retiring from blogging was almost like testing a few theories. If I do X, what will happen? Ok, now what if I do Y? And then Z?Thanks to my wild imagination (and anxiety), I envisioned countless things that could go wrong. But in the end, even after taking the final plunge, nothing bad happened. People understood. It all worked out. If anything, it was actually one of the most exciting times of my “career” (is that what this is? lol). Because making the slow, intentional decision to let go of what I didn’t want to do anymore also gave me the time to figure out what I do want to be doing—and being “good” at the internet is not part of the equation.

Before we dive deeper into this topic, I should clarify that I don’t aspire to be a luddite. I love and use technology every day, including my smartphone, computers and the electric standup desk I built last summer. On my phone, I send texts and make calls, listen to audiobooks and podcasts, take pictures and still spend a little too much time on Instagram. On my computer, I write this newsletter, read/reply to emails, do research, write, record podcasts, create graphics, watch videos and so on. I also store things in the cloud, buy products, sell products and manage all of my money online. It is an incredibly useful tool that powers so many of the good things in my life. I am very pro internet!

What I’m no longer interested in is being “good” at the internet. I’ve known this for a long time. In fact, I remember meeting an online friend at a conference and having her ask me why I wasn’t doing a long list of things to grow my site. “Don’t you want to build a big audience or start your own publishing company? You totally could!” When I said “no,” she looked confused and almost frustrated. And it wasn’t her fault for reacting that way. I was at a conference where people were literally there to talk about how to create content that would build audiences and make them money! I was just there for different reasons (to see friends, not attend sessions).

We had that conversation in September 2016, and it took two more years for me to finally realize that maybe being “good” at the internet wasn’t my career path after all. Of course, over the past two years, a lot of other things have changed the way the internet works and feels. Not just in politics, but in the world of social media in general. Some people even believe the internet is terrible now. I wouldn’t go that far, but I did enjoy this podcast interview with Tim Wu. My personal feeling is simpler: the internet is extremely reactive now. It is fast-paced, stressful and requires a lot of energy to keep up with. And that is the exact opposite of living a slow, mindful and intentional life.

So, I’m opting out—at least of the way many content creators use the internet today. In fact, I think my new career goal is to be bad at the internet. When people ask if I’ve read a certain post, or heard about what someone did or said online, I want to say no. I don’t want to keep up with what “my competitors” (that language is so toxic) are doing or which tools they are using. I just want to read/listen/watch stuff I find and then close tabs when I’m done. And I really don’t want to hear about another tool, plugin, or app that can make the internet “better” or easier to manage. I want to use the internet so little that I can’t even imagine needing them at all. Because I don’t want to be known as just a blogger or someone who lives online. I want to be a human who lives + helps in real life.

All of this is to say that, basically, I want to go back to using the internet the way I did when I was a teenager. I want to read/reply to emails, do research, create content and watch videos. And I will keep the few products I have, and of course log on for any workshops we do together, because the internet is the only way we can connect! But I’m done with all the extra stuff that happens online now. That feels scary to type, because it’s the world I’ve been caught up in for the past 12+ years. But there are a lot of people (including friends my age) who have always used the internet this way. Some have never had Facebook. Many have never read blogs. They only open their computers to do work, check email or perform a quick search. Then it’s back to real life with their humans—and that sounds really nice.

There are only a handful of things I’m excited about these days. Getting back into + improving my writing (this newsletter has been a huge help!). Launching a new podcast (already have the skills for that). Learning new design skills (just for fun). Upcoming travel. And spending more time with my family and friends. Some of those things require the internet to work, but they don’t require me to be “good” at the internet. And, as you’ll soon see with my new podcast, they actually won’t require that I spend more time on the internet at all. Right now, I’m making intentional choices and shifts, so I can work online less in order to live offline more.

x Cait

This was originally shared in my newsletter.