Maybe the Tension is a Good Thing

By Meghan Ryan Asbury

What goes around always seems to come back around, doesn’t it? While I’m young enough to remember my parents commenting on trends from their youth being back in style, apparently, I’m also old enough to see it happening from my own childhood. You’ve probably seen “going back to the ’90s” making its way around social media.

I first noticed it around the holidays, when there was a movement to move away from “aesthetic” and minimalist Christmas decor back to bright colors and an anything-but-minimalistic vibe. This summer, mom-style jean shorts, overalls, and oversized button-downs are the preferred style. People are buying film cameras and camcorders to capture moments instead of using their phones. Online creators are showing off their “analog bags” full of things like paperback books, stationery for pen pals, and crossword puzzles in an effort to cut down on screen time.

The nostalgia of it all brings me so much comfort. I crave experiencing life more than documenting it. Especially since becoming a mom, I find myself hyper aware of how much of my life is spent in front of a screen, whether it’s scrolling on my phone or working on my laptop. But is it even possible for my daughter to experience the 1990s life I was raised in?

Whether it’s the decor, the fashion, or the activities, we collectively seem to be craving a slower pace. We are trying to find a way to transport ourselves back to a time in our lives when things felt simpler than they do now.

Maybe it’s not actually the ’90s we miss. Maybe it’s the feeling of being unreachable, unobserved, and fully present where we were. As AI is on the rise and the negative effects of social media are increasingly discussed, there appears to be a tension to return to the way things were before.

Before everyone’s lives were available for spectating from afar.

Before you did things just to document and share them.

Before life went indoors and on a screen, and you did things outside and with your hands.

Before boredom disappeared.

Before we confused consuming life with living it.

Something about summer, I think, brings this out of us even more. We all long for the days when we feel free. When school let out and we could ride bikes until the sun went down. When we’d race out of our homemade “forts” in the woods because we’d hear the ice cream truck nearby, taking every last quarter from our lemonade stand to buy a basic ice cream sandwich that we’d never think to take a picture of before we ate it.

Yes, we had to grow up—but what if the tension we feel to recapture the magic of a childhood summer is a good thing? What if this year, we let ourselves lean into it?

Last summer, I redid our home’s front flower beds all by myself. Fighting off first-trimester nausea, I wanted an excuse to go outside each morning. While we didn’t have much of a yard, we had one small front bed. I had a vision for what I wanted, but no idea how to execute it. So what did I do? I got on ChatGPT and asked it for help. I typed in where I lived and what kind of sunlight I had. I asked what looked good together and how to take care of it.

Ironic, right? The very thing I wanted to help me get off my phone was something I needed my phone to do. But all the saved reels and pins on Pinterest weren’t going to bring my vision to life. I had to actually get outside and get my hands dirty. So I closed out of my phone, drove to the plant nursery, and wandered around gathering supplies. I borrowed a shovel from a neighbor and got to work. Every morning after that, I walked outside, plucked some weeds, pulled out the hose, and watched slowly as my plants bloomed.

Watching something grow over time in a world built for immediacy reminded me that good things take time. This spring, those limelights and hostas are growing back even fuller and more vibrant than last year, and it feels more satisfying than anything I could have posted online.

Maybe that’s why this return to “analog” life seems so comforting right now. In a world where so much of life is consumed through a screen, there’s something healing about creating, tending, making, or experiencing something with your own hands.

As I write this, I’m watching the sun come up from my bedroom window. These early days of having a newborn are getting me up before the sun, and I finally have time to write—but I am doing it on a screen. Maybe that tension is a good thing. Maybe it reminds us what matters.

The goal isn’t abandoning technology, it’s learning to use it without letting it consume us.

We don’t actually want to go backward. We just don’t want to lose ourselves moving forward.

This year, I’m hopping on the trend and packing an analog bag of things to try: film photography, watercolor paint sets, and a yellow legal pad for writing letters. I don’t have a natural eye for photography, I am terrible at painting, and you can barely read my handwriting, but I can’t wait.

Maybe one day my daughter won’t remember whether the photos were taken on film or an iPhone. But I hope she remembers that we were outside. That we made things. That we noticed beauty. That we were paying attention.

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Meghan Ryan Asbury is an author and speaker who is passionate about helping people discover and live out their God-given callings. She has worked in international ministries as well as with Proverbs 31 Ministries. When she’s not surrounded by friends, you can usually find her reading a book or enjoying the great outdoors. A 30-A beach girl, born and raised, she and her husband now reside in Nashville. Her first book, You Are Not Behind: Building a Life You Love Without Having Everything You Want, is available wherever books are sold. You can connect with her on Instagram @meghanryanasbury and at AlwaysMeghan.com.