Intermission: A Note from the Scribe

I have been thinking about my relationship to social media again, and the truth is, “going quiet” is not quite the right phrase.

I was never especially loud there to begin with.

Over the years, my presence online has mostly been modest: a few posts, a few comments, likes, reposts, and occasional stretches of stronger interaction when a particular thread of interest pulled people together. There were brief seasons when certain conversations carried more exchange than usual, but those passed, as such things do. What remains is what has mostly always been there beneath it all: a quieter form of witnessing.

That has always been closer to my true rhythm.

My posting, when I do it, is less about building a presence and more about leaving a record. It is part of my scribe’s work. The same is true of my blog. It does not draw much interaction. There are no crowds there, no stream of donations, no chorus of applause, and very little outward sign that it matters in the moment. But I have never felt much called to promote it heavily. Somewhere in me is the sense that I am not chiefly writing for now. I am writing for a different time — a time when others may want to know what it was like to live through this strange age, to search, to doubt, to witness, to misstep, to learn, and to keep going through what many of us have called the Great Awakening.

That perspective changes how I see the silences.

It also changes how I see the loops.

I have spent enough years watching people chase answers through mystical loops, political loops, disclosure loops, biblical loops, love and light loops, technological fears, coded narratives, and endless promises that something world-shifting is always just around the corner. I know the pull because I have felt it myself. I have followed paths that seemed to offer hidden answers just beyond the official story. Some gave me genuine insight. Some helped me name experiences I did not yet have language for. Some widened my understanding in useful ways. But many of them, over time, revealed the same underlying structure: keep watching, keep waiting, keep decoding, the reveal is coming, the great turn is near.

Different niche, same loop.

I do not say that from a place of superiority. I say it as someone who fell into more than one of those traps. I gave too much energy at times to one framework, one path, one possibility, hoping it might answer more than it could. What life has taught me is that something does not have to be entirely false in order to become a cage.

Part of what changed in me was realizing that the world cannot be understood through a single lens. There is the spiritual lens, where reality is layered and mystery is real. There is the psychological and sociological lens, where fear, hope, identity, symbolism, and group belonging shape what people notice and what meaning they give it. And there is the institutional lens, where media, technology, politics, and agenda-bearing systems amplify, distort, monetize, or suppress what rises into public view. Most things now pass through all three. That is part of why modern life feels so crowded and difficult to read.

A single event becomes ten narratives.
A single question becomes a camp.
A single suspicion becomes a niche identity.

And social media, more often than not, rewards the repetition of identity over the honest revision of thought.

So what may look like absence is really something simpler. I am returning to the quieter mode I have lived in for years. Watching. Researching. Writing when something feels worth recording. Not withdrawing from the world, but refusing to give too much of myself to systems that thrive on anticipation, reaction, and performance.

I still care. I still observe. I still write.

I am simply less interested now in feeding the loops, and more interested in preserving the witness.

Perhaps that is all the scribe was ever meant to do.

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