Hosting and Posting

Dear Reader,

I’ve been trying to figure out why it’s so damn hard for me to post on social media.

Whenever I think about playing live for people, hosting a gathering—inviting them into my world—my body lights up. My heart feels a little warmer and there’s this subtle sense of…outwardness. butterflies.

On the other hand, when I think about posting something on Instagram, no matter how simple or silly, my body tenses up. Announcement? Song demo? Photo of my cat? Doesn’t matter – my heart drops and my adrenaline spikes. Surely, I should be able to get over myself and just post though, right? I am an artist in 2026, after all, and everyone knows you have to have a social media presence if you’re an artist. You just have to or you’ll fade away into nothingness and no one will ever know you exist or love you or see your art ever ever again.

So I do. And I have been for years. And in all this time, the icky feelings haven’t gotten any duller. It makes me wonder if my body knows something I don’t.

In recent effort to “have more of a presence” on Instagram, I started hosting harp livestreams and was surprised to find that I….actually enjoyed it. I began to notice how nourished I felt at the end of each play session, even if only 1 person showed up for 2 minutes (I don’t even think they would consider that a “view”) and I was exhausted and improvised with a cracky voice the whole time. I’m nourished because I offer myself in my most authentic form–the present–and know that whoever stops by will be present, too.

So I realized that my body doesn’t reject being seen, it rejects performance without connection. Making a 30-second reel requires planning, recording, watching, editing, describing, tagging – alone. Maybe someone comments an emoji 2 weeks later.

But hosting a livestream? That’s different. Hosting is relational. It says: Here’s my home, my voice. The doors are open if you’d like to join me.

In a live space, there’s a sense of generosity and mutual exchange for me, where a special type of transformation can happen. Connection. Reception, Recognition of each other as wild and vulnerable and beautiful beings searching for a shared sense of meaning. There, I am not a performer serving bite-sized pastries to a feed of unknown consumers, but an imperfect person offering what I have right now, because that’s all there is.

That’s all for now, dear reader. If you ever want to stop in during a livestream or gathering, you know where to find me.

Thank you so much for listening.

–Elizabeth