Screen Free… What’s that?
Long gone are the days of truly being screen free. Remember when you’d rack up miles on your sneakers with your friends trying to remember who sang that song or played that character in a movie? When the only solution was to think—or to call someone on a landline. Then days later you would call your friend on said landline again just to shout “I REMEMBER NOW! It was Michael Douglas!” and hang up?
When was the last time you played Yahtzee, Scattegories, or a never-ending game of Monopoly? Took a walk around your neighborhood as a family? Hopped on a bike to grab ice cream? Visited your grandma and laughed so hard your stomach hurt from the stories she told?
Have you flipped through an old recipe box lately? Dug out that dish your great-aunt used to make?
What does “busy” even mean anymore?
We have multiple lakes here in Albert Lea. Skip some rocks. Cast a line. Sit by the water and let your mind wander. Pack a picnic with a friend you haven’t really talked to in a while. Remember what it’s like to be present.
We are lucky enough to have a state park on the edge of town. Hike a trail. Watch the colors bloom—pinks, yellows, purples—and let it remind you how alive the world is. Visit the eagle’s nest by the big island and let the size of that bird take your breath away.
Play a game of frisbee golf. Laugh at yourself if you have no idea what you’re doing. Cheer when the wind helps you make a shot you had no business making. Teach someone it’s okay to be bad at things. That practice might not make perfect, but it does make fun.
Albert Lea has 33 parks. Find a swing. Let your head fall back. Breathe. Scan the sky. Remember: the rush isn’t the reward. It’s okay to slow down. To feel the breeze, the grass, the quiet. To let your mind go still for a second.
I taught yoga for a chapter of my life, and one thing I learned—it’s that quiet is hard. So Hard. Our minds are always moving. Always calculating, worrying, wondering if we’re enough. A good enough mom, brother, coworker, friend. Screens keep us chasing “what could be,” comparing ourselves to everyone else’s highlight reels and heartbreaks.
But sometimes… you just need to stop.
Stop watching someone else’s life pass by on a screen.
Go. Live. Be.
(And yes—the irony isn’t lost on me that I’m writing this on a screen, and you’re reading it on one. All the more reason to put it down and get out there.)
