Our Year of Reconnection
It’s 2026, and we’ve reached a breaking point.
The internet was supposed to connect the world, but instead we have a shrinking ecosystem of walled gardens and a well-documented loneliness epidemic.
Social media was supposed to keep us in touch with our friends and families, but instead we have a teen mental health crisis, widespread smartphone addiction, an endless torrent of disposable content made by strangers, and a fascist government that nobody wants.
We were supposed to have democratized art and culture, but instead we have AI companies stealing from authors, impoverishing musicians, and poisoning the digital commons.
All of these ills come down to one common diagnosis: we’ve lost our sense of connection.
We’re disconnected from ourselves
Let’s think about the world we experience.
When is the last time you spent an entire day without looking at your phone, tablet, computer, or any other digital, internet-connected device?
I’m not here to tell you that all tech is bad, that you should throw your smartphone in the sea, or that you should live off-grid in an environmentally sustainable hobbit hole. But I do think it’s telling how long it’s been since any of us went an entire day disconnected from our tech.
When is the last time you can remember daydreaming? Like, literally just sitting there, nothing to do, staring off into space, imagining?
How long have you been complaining about not being able to remember stuff any more?
The designed behavioral addiction of modern, internet-connected tech is robbing us of both our imaginations and our memories. And with fascism having taken hold of our society, we must be able to remember better pasts and imagine better futures, or we’ll lose everything to an infinite present engineered to benefit a few at the rest of our expense.
I’m not blaming tech for causing fascism—humans did that—but I do think tech is getting in the way of our resistance.
If you could wave a magic wand and reshape your entire life tomorrow, what would it look like? Most of us would have to think long and hard about that now, but once upon a time, that answer came easily.
It’s worth asking why we became so disconnected from ourselves, and who benefits from that.
We’re disconnected from each other
Let’s think about the world we want.
Wouldn’t it be nice if we actually knew our neighbors? We don’t all have to be friends, but it’s weird that we’re all such strangers.
Wouldn’t it be great if our wages kept up with the cost of living? They used to, back when workers built solidarity with each other in the form of strong labor unions.
Wouldn’t it be swell if we always had access to child care, elder care, support when we’re sick, and babysitters and pet-sitters and house-sitters when we need to get away? And wouldn’t it be even sweller if that support came from people we knew, who genuinely cared about us, and who weren’t just trying to make a buck?
Wouldn’t it be amazing if we had help when we needed it, instead of feeling so damn isolated all the time?
It’s worth asking why we became so disconnected from each other, and who benefits from that.
We’re disconnected from nature
Let’s think about the world that sustains us.
Human-impacted climate change is real, and we’re all suffering its effects. (If you believe otherwise, you’re definitely on the wrong site.)
Everything is contaminated with PFAS and microplastics. We’ve filled our oceans with trash. Coral reefs are bleaching, and taking whole ecosystems with them. We’ve built cities on top of Superfund sites, and scarred the earth with mines so huge they can be seen from space. We’ve ruined coastlines with massive oil spills and desecrated sacred sites to extract still more oil.
We live in artificially-constructed boxes of drywall and LVP and glass and steel. They’re designed with straight lines, organized grids, and flat surfaces, all forms that don’t typically occur in nature. Our cities are endless miles of asphalt and concrete paved over what was once thriving wilderness, while our suburbs have replaced that same wilderness with monoculture lawns and non-native decorative plants and hardscape patios.
When was the last time you spent time in nature? Not just your back yard or the neighborhood park, but really out there, away from civilization? How much calmer did you feel? How much healthier?
How many people do you know who have similar stories?
If we all feel that way, then why are we living like this?
It’s worth asking why we became so disconnected from nature, and who benefits from that.
Our year of reconnection
It’s 2026, and it’s time to reconnect.
Reconnecting with ourselves means intentionally reducing our dependence on tech, consciously inhabiting our physical bodies, and embracing slower and more analog ways of being.
Reconnecting with each other means regularly and intentionally maintaining our relationships, embracing our creativity and our art, and prioritizing in-person interactions over those that are mediated by a screen.
Reconnecting with nature means spending time outside every day, learning to appreciate and nurture our native ecosystems, and drastically reducing our most wasteful consumption.
“Reconnection” is my personal theme for 2026. I’ll be writing on this topic from time to time this year, exploring ideas and solutions for navigating our modern, highly disconnected reality, and logging my own attempts to reduce my tech dependency and reconnect with myself, my community, and my environment.
I hope you’ll join me in making 2026 our year of reconnection.
Here’s a starting suggestion: write about how you plan to reconnect this year, and then share your post to #reconnection on Bluesky or Mastodon, or email it to someone you want to reconnect with (or even to me, if you like).
And if you’d like to stay connected here:
- Join my email list (it’s free!)
- Subscribe to this site’s Atom feed
- Follow me on Bluesky or Mastodon
Here’s to a happy and healthy 2026!