Scrolling Into the Solstice?
Choosing Creativity Over "Crack" This Holiday Season
The topic on my calendar this week was Wintering Well — finding rest, quiet, reflection, renewal. Which sounds lovely, poetic, right?
Except for the small detail that December is, for many of us, a two-week sprint disguised by twinkling lights. End-of-year deadlines. Holiday logistics. The internal pressure to “wrap up,” “clear out,” and “start fresh.”
Coming off my self-imposed bardo last weekend (see: bed, blanket, dog), I thought I’d neatly transition into a season of thoughtful wintering. Instead, I’m noticing something else:
My phone is basically “Crack.”
Now — small distinction — I’ve never tried the actual substance. But naming my phone Crack has brought a new level of honesty to the relationship.
Because while eliminating certain past coping tools was straightforward (turns out you can live a long, happy life without nicotine or negronis), it’s the addictive behaviors woven into survival — food, work, relationships, learning — that are much trickier.
No one is applauding you for quitting apples or ideas. And the smartphone is the perfect delivery device because it’s cloaked in pseudo-reality:
- "This news matters."
- "This science is fascinating."
- "This house on Zillow could be your future spiritual retreat center."
- “This baby goat video is clearly emotional medicine.”
One minute you’re checking the weather…four hours later you’re touring abandoned mansions in American ghost towns.
So I’ve started asking myself a very simple question:
Is this feeding my creativity or feeding my craving?
Am I learning something real, useful, connecting, inspiring? Or am I chasing the next tiny dopamine snowflake?
As we approach the solstice — the darkest point before the light returns — I’m reflecting on winter as an invitation not just to rest but to rest consciously.
- To choose what restores rather than distracts.
- To pause not just productivity, but compulsivity.
- To unclench, not escape.
So here is my aspirational winter pledge:
I commit to noticing the difference between nourishment and numbing — and reaching for what fills my spirit, not just my screen.
Here’s to your wintering well — to not shutting down, but rather showing up for what matters most to you and your life.



