We Start January 1, 2026 on Substack!
I’m old enough to remember life before computers, before AI, before cell phones (let alone smartphones!) and social media—a time when technology wasn’t embedded into every aspect of our lives.
Life felt more spacious and less interrupted. You didn’t always know what everyone else was doing, feeling or eating, at every moment of the day. And that unknowing was normal. People could disappear into their lives for hours or days and we wouldn't freak out. We trusted our felt connections. We knew that we’d find our way back to each other.
There was an inherent freedom in that kind of life—a stretch of time between reaching out to someone and hearing back. You had to hold people in mind longer. You had to wonder about them, wait for them.
And we just lived our lives like normal human people in those in-between moments, not in an endless stream of notifications. And because connection wasn’t constant, the things that did arrive—the notes, the calls, the scribbled postcards, the message left on an answering machine—felt like small events, little doorways into someone’s world.
Maybe I’m a little nostalgic, but it was a slow and wonderfully imperfect time—which might be why the things we saved matter so much to me now. I have shoeboxes full of hand-written recipe cards, photographs and letters on stationery—real paper, real ink, real memories you can hold. Those boxes still feel like their own kind of archive, proof that someone sat down, thought of me, and put that care into words.
Reclaiming My Attention Span
This might sound like I'm waxing poetic about a time I wish we could return to. That we'd all be better off with a couple of notebooks, a paper dayplanner, and a landline with an answering machine. Even though I see some truth in this, I am not a total luddite.
I run an online business and I enjoy every convenience that all my tech provides. Nevertheless, I do wax nostalgic about a time when my an attention span was longer than twelve seconds. I do miss that.
Over the last few years, I’ve noticed how much of my life has shifted online: my business, my conversations, my photos, my entertainment, my correspondence, the way I organize my life. Everything now lives behind a screen. And although the digital world makes so much possible, I can feel the slow erosion of the things that used to ground me— the physicality, the intentional participation in my own life instead of scrolling through someone else’s.
I Want More of What Matters in My Life
I miss the human parts of being human.
Maybe I don't really know what that means but I miss making more time to use my opposable thumbs to actually make things.
I miss sitting down with a pen and letting my thoughts arrive in their own time instead of being pressured by a blinking cursor. (Staring down a blank page with a pen ain't no joke either but you know what I mean)
I miss the weight of paper, the scratch of a good pen, the way ink turns a thought into something you can actually hold in your little human hand.
I miss having my memories live in the real world and not behind a screen. Photos from my vacations on my wall, scraps of poetry and love letters in shoeboxes, ramblings about life in pretty notebooks, my daughter's hand-written recipes, photos taped to the refrigerator, and my husband's funny sayings on a post-it note by my bed—not just in clouds, apps, or folders in my phone.
And for me, the thread through all of these is: TIME. In my effort to streamline my life, to organize it, in my desire for convenience, I have filtered out more and more of the slow, messy, creative parts. I guess I want more of the tangible, more depth and texture and consideration and thoughtfulness?
Sounds ambitious doesn't it?
Maybe so. :)
But who cares. This year, I’m starting something new (or maybe something very old!): The Analog Life Project.
A stress-free, month-by-month practice of unplugging and reconnecting with the world right in front of us.
Think of it as a kind of recalibration. A return to things that make a life feel actually lived rather than scrolled through.
How Does The Analog life Project Work?
SUBSTACK POSTS: Each month, I’ll share 1–2 short Substack essays about my own analog life experiences, books I'm reading, recipes I'm loving, along with ideas of things to make, things to notice, small practices for creating a little more meaning in our lives.
LET'S TALK ABOUT IT: This is where the magic happens! I want to hear from you! Feel free to comment on Substack and share your own experiences. I would love to have a robust conversation and exchange of ideas on Substack.
PRINTABLE PDFS: Each month I'll offer an assortment of printables (worksheets, journaling pages, lists, bookmarks, recipe cards, etc) These won’t be assignments or challenges but instead prompts or ideas you can tuck into your pocket—easy and pressure-free. Some will be reflective, some creative, some just for delight.
IN PERSON MEET-UPS? PEN PALS? Wow! You guys have some great ideas! We are open to all of your suggestions to make this project awesome. Keep your ideas coming!
We Start January 1, 2026 on Substack!
Will You Join Me?
I think many of us are tired of the frenetic pace of the world today, the noise, the pressure to always be “on.”
Many of us long for something slower, quieter, more human. Something that reminds us we are not just passive observers of our own lives. We are not just here to consume. We are actual human people in the world.
So what does that mean? Let's figure it out together.
We Start January 1, 2026 on Substack!
Frequently Asked Questions
How do I sign up for The Analog Life Project
There is no actual sign up. If you'd like to participate, subscribe to my newsletter for updates so you never miss any of the free content. The essays will be here on my blog and on Substack.
How much does The Analog Life Project cost?
Nothing, it's free. :)
How do I get the free printable PDFs?
All of the content will be here on my blog and also on Substack.
Where is the discussion of the content happening?
The essays will be posted on Substack where you can comment and share your thoughts and ideas.
When does The Analog Life Project start?
We start January 1, 2026. Sign up for my newsletter to get all the updates on the project.
