we are out with lanterns looking for ourselves

social media, identity, and a return to child-like wonder.

Disclaimer: this is not a tirade against all major social media platforms and those who use them, but my experience and what I have perceived.

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Art: Marianne Fayolle

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"I am out with lanterns, looking for myself." -Emily Dickinson

I wonder if Dickinson knew that when she wrote this line in a letter to a friend, reflecting on the pains of moving to a new home and having to unpack your possessions, not quite sure that everything is where it should be, it would come to resonate so deeply with so many. When I really think about this quote and what it means to me, I think about my generation (Gen Z) and the kind of people we have become: a generation that is out with lanterns and looking for ourselves. 

It is no secret that we are experiencing an unprecedented identity crisis. Why wouldn’t we be when we live in a society and culture that is constantly defining and redefining what it means to be human and happy and successful? And as a generation that is chronically online with the rise of various social media platforms, we are constantly bombarded with curated images of “perfect” lives. In an attempt to fit into these cultural ideals, we begin to curate our own online identities. We cherry-pick the best moments of our lives, editing and filtering them to fit the algorithm’s preferences and the ever-changing definitions of what is considered desirable. Our online personas become a collage of the different identities we perceive online. Majority of us have spent over half of our lives this way (I am almost 22 years old and have had social media since I was ten). Thus, we struggle to understand ourselves — who we are deep down in our core, not to mention the impact on our overall mental and emotional health. It is no wonder we are so tired all of the time. While I see this issue most in my generation, I don’t believe it is limited to us “young people” for I perceive it, though on a smaller level, in the generations before us too — in my 46 year old mother, my middle-aged professor, and even in some of my grandparents. We are a fragmented culture and society — our houses are cluttered and nothing is ever quite where it should be. 

I often reflect on my youth and the novelty of those days, before I had a phone and anxiously obsessed over every minute detail. Everything was always so new and exciting. The ladybugs I would catch in my grandmother’s backyard, walks with my family, stargazing at night and learning the stories written in the constellations, going to the library and feeling like I had entered a completely new world — those simple, ordinary things were what I lived for and awakened such passions and dreams in me. It’s been years since I’ve felt that way. I realized that I was overstimulated and desensitized to the joys of ordinary life, that my passions ceased to excite me, and I no longer dreamed big dreams. In coming to that realization, I felt as if something had been stolen from me and I desperately wanted it back. 

For me, the first-step into regaining what I have unwittingly lost was to step away from all major social media platforms (it’s surprising how much lighter I feel already) — to separate myself from all of the many different images and voices apart from my own (a detox if you will) and to sift through the clutter that has accumulated over the last decade and find who I am beneath it all. To reclaim those parts of myself that I have lost. In large, that is why I have decided to start posting on substack — to create a home for all of my random thoughts, passions, joys, and new discoveries. 

I want to experience life more fully, not glued to a screen. I desire to be more intentional with my time, avoiding the endless scroll that consumes so many hours. I seek a clearer mind, free from digital clutter.

In essence, I want to relearn the art of childlike wonder, and all are welcome to come along on the journey. 

Until next time, 

mia ❤