BB Grey–musings

I use social media the way I use salt-just enough to taste, never enough to live on.

bb grey

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It’s Easter Sunday. I was woken not by an alarm, but by a quartet of birds playing something between a minuet and a dream—somewhere between Debussy and the dripping hush of a new morning. It’s easy to forget this kind of beauty exists when you’re racing headlong into the day, coffee in hand, phone in the other, scrolling before your feet even find the floor.

Even when we try to be mindful, we’re pulled under—drawn into the undertow of fragments: posts, updates, headlines, texts, pings. We become walking, blinking commercials—broadcasting our own highlight reels while absorbing everyone else’s. It’s not just the content—it’s the current itself. The blue-lit current of media trying to loop back to the heart for some kind of meaning, but arriving already used, already drained.

I think of it like blood.

Social media, newsfeeds, text threads—they’re the blue blood in the body. Veins carrying spent oxygen, information already consumed, cycling back to the heart for renewal. It’s necessary, sure. You can’t run a body without it. But you can’t live on that alone.

What you need is red blood.

The kind that flows fresh from the heart, oxygen-rich. That’s the birdsong in the morning. The scent of trees just beginning to bloom. The pink sliver of sunrise before the world remembers its obligations. The breeze, the leaf, the breath that isn’t trying to sell you anything.

That’s the real feed. The true stream. The one that doesn’t need WiFi.

So yes, I use social media. For connection, coordination, a bit of diversion. But I try not to live there. I use it like I’d use a map—not the destination. When I feel my inner current growing thin, I step outside. I listen. I breathe. I remember that the best things are still unplugged. Still breathing.