Living Life and Not Making Content About It

An Update From Anya

Mid-August Crestone sunset. The view from our deck.

From the looks of my podcast episodes and Substack posts over the past six months, it would be easy to assume that not much has been happening, and/or that I’ve become incredibly lazy. In reality, that couldn’t be farther from the truth. My life has actually been busier than ever, it’s just that very little of it has made it online.

Living in Crestone full-time for the past year, my day-to-day life has changed in ways I hadn’t fully anticipated. One major shift is that for the first time in seven years, instead of writing and podcasting about the life I desired, I am now actually living it.

Inevitably, my interest in coming online to share big ideas about “saving the world” has taken a back seat to volunteering at local gardens, helping to organize community events, and writing for the local paper.

A note from my 2017 journal reads, “Start as local as possible, and go from there. The ripple starts at the center and radiates out.” I always wanted to believe this was true, but up until recently, I had my doubts. Deep down I still assumed that “saving the world” had to be more complex, more flashy, more radical. For a long time I resented people who moved to the middle of nowhere in order to live an alternative life; People who seemed disconnected from meaningful interaction with the rest of the world.

What about global activism? What about speaking out against worldwide inequality? What about influencing and inspiring others to fight back and resist the status quo?

Without broad-based recognition, could I really claim to be making a difference? Without “saving the world,” did I really deserve to live a happy, simple, and pleasure-filled life?

I didn’t intentionally set out to let these questions go, but over the past year they’ve seemed to vanish on their own. Far more localized and mundane questions have appeared in their place. Why don’t we have more bike paths? Where can I learn how to build alternatively? Where do art and infrastructure interact, and what can I do to bring more of both to Crestone? Who here do I need to meet? Who do I need to learn from? What am I good at and how can I use those skills to help my community? How can I be of service? How can I walk the talk?

Last month, following the closing ceremony of The Crestone Energy Fair, a large event in town that I helped to organize, I commented to Chris about how rewarding the experience had been. After decades of pursuing passive income, affiliate sales, and teaching online courses, it felt incredibly relieving to complete a tangible, structured task, with a clear beginning and ending. Spinning around and around in the social media algorithm hamster wheel, and trying to appeal to a large audience base had left me feeling exhausted and perpetually insatiable. It always seemed like there was more to do, more people to connect with, and more money to be made. I was stuffing my face, but still feeling hungry.

It also occurred to me that I’ve had some sort of online presence since I was thirteen years old. 

Like many millennials, my childhood was internet-free, but by the time I turned thirteen, I had a cell phone, AOL instant messenger, and a livejournal. 

While social media and smartphones were still several years away, my adolescent maturation and sense of autonomy were very much intertwined with online, public self-expression. 

By twenty-two, I was not only using the internet for personal reasons, but my career was also centered around the internet. I ran online marketing for natural products brands, overseeing social media, website design, and online content creation. At twenty-six, I became a professional “influencer” and health & wellness blogger.

Eventually I left the health & wellness world, but my career remained online. Like so many in my generation, I believed that having a successful online business was the ultimate goal. Up until relatively recently, the normalcy and routine of existing online, both personally and professionally, went unchecked.

I can’t say that my growing resistance to posting incessant content about my life or to having an online career has been intentional. I’ve never taken an official social media hiatus, nor have I demonized the internet for its control over my life. I know that I don’t respond well to ultimatums or external pressure, so I was well aware of the fact that any cessation of my online existence would have to happen organically.

At thirty-five, I can finally feel myself pulling away, but only because I’ve started to fill the void of what I was chasing online with something else entirely. 

Something real.

All this is to say that things are changing. My priorities have shifted, and my day-to-day life looks and feels a lot different than it ever has. It’s taken me a few months to acknowledge these shifts, and to gain clarity on where things are headed. After some serious weed-whacking, I’ve finally begun to make out the outlines of a new path, and I’m excited to be headed in a new direction. 

I’m not going away, just changing outfits.

I’ll still be online, but my presence here will emerge from a different, far more centralized and grounded place. 

Stay tuned.