Quiet v. Distraction

“Distraction is the only thing that consoles us from our miseries and yet it is itself the greatest of our miseries.”

–     Blaise Pascal, 17th century French philosopher

About 1987, technology fired a shot across the bow of my ability to focus.  It was then that I got my first cell phone.

About a year ago, Pico Iyer, in an article in the Sunday New York Times, got extremely close to helping me understand why I sometimes feel so disconnected in this age of uber-connectivity.  (Bing or Google “Pico Iyer quiet New York Times” — the link won’t paste here for some reason — perhaps the editors at The Times must have found out about my Romney / Ryan contribution…)

Now, where was I?  Ah, yes!  Pico Iyer…

Iyer cites Nicholas Carr’s book, The Shallows, What The Internet Is Doing To Our Brains (which I found compelling but excruciating to read, perhaps because of what the Internet is doing to my brain), stating that “the average American spends at least eight-and-one-half hours a day in front of a screen.” Iyer also claimed, quite eloquently, that “the children of tomorrow will crave nothing more than freedom, if only for a short while, from all the blinking machines, streaming videos and scrolling headlines that leave them feeling empty and too full all at once.”

“Empty and too full, all at once.”

Them there are some powerful words.

I am reminded of two instances that illustrate the blurring of lines and the pressure we, and all consumers, find placed on our time.

First, when watching a football game on ESPN Classic recently, Wyatt, our then 9-year-old budding quarterback, said, “Daddy, where’s the score?” I said, “They didn’t use to show it all the time, son.” He replied, “Ohhhhhh, ok, Dad. But where are the scores of the other games that should be at the bottom of the screen?” Try explaining to a 9-year-old, or for that matter a 19-year-old that we used to just watch the games and then read the Sunday paper for the results of the other games…

Which brings me to my second example. A good friend of mine, retired a couple years ago.  “How’s retirement?” I asked him shortly after he pulled the chute. “All I know for sure,” he said, “is if the “big” newspaper comes, it must be Sunday!” His point was how cool it was to just live each day for that day.

So, with two Sunday paper references linked to a Sunday paper article, this Sunday I feel like Iyer’s point is that unlike the retiree who’s mind is free of distraction, we’re so under-siege that not knowing what day it is might not be therapeutic.  In fact, it may have destructive potential, unless we can find some quiet.

And quiet, like most things we’re trying to find, is best found by seeking it out consciously, plan-fully and with purpose.

Wherever we find it, quiet is worth locating. Iyer cites The Shallows again, pointing to a series of tests indicating, “after spending time in quiet, rural settings, subjects exhibit greater attentiveness, stronger memory and generally improved cognition. Their brains,” he points out, “become both calmer and sharper.”

Attentive. Improved cognition. Stronger memory. Calm and sharp.

That makes me wonder if we focus on finding some quiet each week, how much easier it will be to make a difference.