They built vast digital pastures not for grazing,
but for grazing eyes.
Places where attention is currency,
and the self a commodity refined
through filters and frames.
Welcome to the Ego Farms.
Scroll past the gates.
Here, we feed the algorithm
with fragments of ourselves:
a smile, a thought,
a wound wrapped in a hashtag.
Likes bloom like crops
under the glow of blue light suns,
and we are ploughed daily
by validation and void.
Harvested not for who we are,
but for how well we perform it.
Each story curated.
Each caption crafted.
Each post a seed we hope will grow
into recognition, into relevance,
into relief.
But the soil is shallow here.
And the roots of our realness
struggle to find earth
beneath the artificial terrain.
Sometimes,
I come here to open a window;
to let a little fresh air in.
To remind to look outside, that the sky is still blue,
that wind still carries stories
through the trees,
that life breathes beyond the screen!
Sometimes,
I try to share something true:
to inspire a return to the softness of nature,
to the pulse of the earth
where no one is watching,
but everything is alive!
I hope to walk beside others
in this remembering.
To come home again.
To what is real.
To what is felt.
To the sacred pulse of being seen
not for display, but for truth.
I come from the natural world.
I read the language of leaves,
sit with the stillness of stone,
reflect with the wisdom in water.
And I too feel social media like sugar…
sweet for a moment, but sharp on the spirit and psyche.
It’s a careful walk
in the blue-light realm;
to open the door to nature
without growing an untrue nature
in doing so.
Still;
I see those who linger silently.
Eyes watching behind curtains of code,
hovering on pages, hovering over people;
trying to “suss out” a soul
through pixels and posts.
But would you wander someone’s home
just to peek inside their windows,
without a knock, without a word?
There is so much hiding here.
So much fear disguised as cool detachment.
People afraid of real-world closeness
camp here instead…
simulating intimacy, mimicking connection,
falling just short of the nourishment
that only presence can give.
And worse; we’ve grown used to projecting
instead of relating.
Throwing shade, spilling opinions,
flinging judgments from behind screens
without ever facing each other.
Without feeling the impact of our words
in another’s eyes.
What has happened to our humanity?
What happened to truth-telling
with respect?
To conflict with care?
To the courage of speaking face-to-face,
heart-to-heart, without the armor of distance
and digital detachment?
Who are we being?
What are we investing in
as the future of this world?
Each moment we click, post, or scroll
is a seed.
And the harvest is coming, not just in likes,
but in the shape of our society,
the health of our relationships,
the souls of our children
watching us model
what connection looks like.
These are not fields of true community.
They are enclosures,
where our egos are bred,
fattened, and farmed for profit.
Yes,
some of us come here to raise awareness,
to rally for change,
to use these platforms as billboards
for justice, for truth,
for a better world.
We say,
“I’m just trying to reach people.
This is where they are.”
And maybe that’s true.
But in doing so,
what are we feeding?
What are we becoming
as we navigate systems
built not for awakening,
but for addiction?
Are we making ripples. or getting rinsed?
The world existed long before
these mediums had our attention.
Before we outsourced our voice
to apps designed to keep us clicking.
And sometimes, we must ask,
not just what am I saying here,
but what is it doing to me to say it here?
How do we justify offering our soul’s work
to a machine that reshapes our message
into metrics?
How often do we trade
depth for reach? Truth for traction?
And when we close the app,
do we feel fuller or further
from what really matters?
Step away from the scrolling trance,
to remember what it means
to be truly available to the moment,
to each other, to the earth beneath our feet.
Not as content, but as connection.
Not for applause, but for presence.
Not to be seen, but to see,
and to be with what is real.
Let’s all get off the couch.
Off the endless scroll.
Off the pixelled illusions
and back into the pulse of living.
Away from the data harvesting schemes
where every scroll is tracked,
every click converted, every emotion mined
for profit.
The yellow brick road doesn’t lead to freedom here.
It leads to an illusion of power, an illusion of presence
all smoke, no soul.
Let’s stretch our legs onto real ground,
lift our eyes to each other,
and speak not behind screens,
but beside fires, under trees,
at kitchen tables where truth can breathe.
Let’s return to the places
where connection isn’t measured in metrics,
but in presence. Where community is built
not through followers, but through follow-through.
Let’s choose to feel again.
To face one another.
To live like we mean it.
The world is waiting.
And we are not here
to be content.
We are here
to be in connection.
To grow what is real.
Together in the full spectrum of natural light,
and each other.
Much gratitude to life and all,
Knowing In Nature
