Who Controls your Attention?
(those jewels on the road after a rainy night…)
When waking up this morning my mind was spinning. It was as if “breaking news” was tilting into my awareness unfiltered. It had me wondering about yesterday's conversation I was somewhat rattled by; an email I’d been intending to send; if I should fold my sweaters differently; whether yoga or running was a better idea; green tea, herbal, or neither; and if I should move my dentist appointment in december…
The racket going on wasn't impressed by my morning meditation, where the monkey chatter confidently carried on.
It resembled a radio station on a local news channel accompanying countless taxi rides I’ve had all over the world. The dull mumble felt like a familiar soundtrack—sometimes soothing background company easing me into a foreign vibe, and sometimes a jarring noise threatening to blow my circuits.
This morning was strongly leaning towards the second option, making me ponder why all that information popped up and to what degree I need to take it seriously.
The Zen tradition encourages observing the mind to realise that everything showing up has a tendency to blow past—if we let it.
Turns out, that's the tricky part, as I easily find myself getting stuck in the past over something I'm not even sure I remember correctly, or planning for a troubled future scenario I lack any evidence for ever happening.
The Capacity Question: Is Your Inner Spin Maxed Out?
This internal chaos made me wonder:
to what degree is there a connection between our spinning minds and the sheer volume of external input that comes barreling at our senses relentlessly?
What if our capacity is limited?
What if, from time to time, our attention needs a suspension from input for our mind not to spin its wheels trying to “solve” as many apparent problems as possible to “save” us.
What if our processing capacity for incoming stimulation hits a point of exhaustion where we get our wires crossed, or even short-circuit as we tire out from over-consumption?
What if Less is More Yet Again?
During a phone conversation with a friend in NY—made seamless by modern technology—we pondered how this opportunity to easily stay in touch is likewise maxing out our capacity, constantly exposing us to countless parallel realities.
The variance in our perspective was immediately noticeable when we mentioned what we had just seen on the news, as if we were referring to completely different events. Her attention shaped a hopeful reality, while mine was questioning the aggression I felt behind the words of a newly elected member of the Government that had just been confirmed.
What we each picked up on was shaping our view of life, as it does with anything.
It’s what guides our personal truth aligned with our inner landscape. It's what determines what we get hooked on throughout our day. It’s as banal as some of us spotting soup kitchens while the next is drawn to a sandwich bar when seeking lunch.
The Attention Economy: We Are the Currency
What catches our attention wins our vote. This is true for everything from politics to a first date, the offers at the supermarket, the people we hang out with, and the countries we visit.
On a global level, our attention is a highly bankable asset. Every major tech company, social platform, and streaming service is locked in a battle for those precious seconds we spend scrolling, swiping, or streaming, as we live in the “attention economy.”
We’re not just users anymore—we’re the product.
Algorithms on TikTok, Instagram Reels, YouTube Shorts, and LinkedIn are engineered to keep us hooked, feeding us an endless stream of tailored content.
Ironically, it can feel quite personal, as we may even feel understood by what we are being offered based on the analysis covering every move we make in how we consume.
It's a Fine Line to Balance
I have easily got myself hooked on dog reels countless times without even noticing how my finger developed a mind of its own seeking out more.
It can make your head spin when you no longer know what advice, life hack, optimization, or guaranteed path to happiness you “should” follow.
And while the content of a mental health app can be hugely supportive, it’s yet another scroll we can get stuck on, tugging at our resilience to withstand our overall addictive tendency.
Social media can connect a marginalized person to a supportive community, but just as easily, it can trap us in a virtual world. I have a friend who lives in a very restrictive religious family environment far out in the middle of nowhere, and they have wildly benefited from tapping into the global web as a gate to escape and reconfigure their brutally one-dimensional conditioning.
Some psychological accounts have become a life line in an ever-increasing need for affordable self-help in a world challenging our mental stability. The global web also allows someone struggling with a rare chronic condition to instantly find verified, community-driven treatment protocols that their local doctor may not even know about.
Just as much though, there are worrying reports of kids spending an average of 5 to 7 hours per day on screens, outside of schoolwork. Furthermore, studies show a strong link between excessive social media use and increased rates of anxiety, depression, and poor sleep quality in teenagers.
It can be a way out as much as it can wreck our mind.
It can be a game-changing support system, but it can also be a recipe for increasingly feeling isolated, despite having more means of connection than ever available.
The Silent Price of Busyness
The more “connected” we become in options, the less we seem to actually connect as we are too fast to actually process our intake.
Just the other day, I saw friends at a restaurant who said they hadn't seen each other in years—each glued to their phones, anxiously scanning the other tables, checking for what they could do next, barely exchanging a direct word. It was a stark reminder that being physically together does not automatically amount to actually sharing our presence.
Arthur Rubinstein claimed that “The unfortunate thing is human nature’s tendency to become so familiar with the miracle that we develop a vicious way of taking everything for granted.”
Echoing that sentiment, a friend told me during the pandemic how bored she was by the woods as everything looks the same to her. I wonder if we trick ourselves into becoming more bored the more we expose ourselves to novel input, because nothing ever seems enough, and any repeat feels like an affront to our greedy senses.
Our attention spans are shrinking as the dopamine hit from each notification is a briefly soothing pacifier.
It's the reason influencers shape our tastes and opinions, sometimes more than our actual friends do. We are kept on our toes by ads popping up between weather updates, or when trying to check the score of a game or even the news. It creates absurd moments, like reading an article on a war zone only to be interrupted by advertisements for traveling to a five-star resort not far removed from the troubled territory, all barreling at our senses simultaneously.
The advice never stops—everyone seems an expert—making us lose trust in our own instincts, swept along by the siren song of the “unshakable” truth presented by external measures.
It’s as if we’re drowning in information, but starving for meaning.
The more we binge, the less we feel as we are numbed by the capacity for storage being over-stretched.
The one-sidedness of this kind of “conversation” might be what makes the feeling of isolation increase so drastically.
As feeling witnessed relies on feeling the presence of our counterpart, a person sending out the same message to millions of people can leave us feeling hung. And while there is the option of a comment section, it’s often us having a “conversation” with an AI-generated algorithm keeping us hooked.
The Silent Price of Busyness
As our attention spans shrink, it’s not uncommon to find yourself increasingly challenged to focus on one task for extended periods, often struggling with mental fatigue.
The underlying fear of missing out and trying to keep all options open can lead to amusing behaviors. I have a friend who has lived in the same apartment for five years, yet re-signs the lease every half year because she is too worried to block herself from moving on a hunch she so frequently feels.
Chronic anxiety about being behind schedule, feeling jumpy, and planning every moment as we fear not covering maximum ground has us tensely vibrating through our days.
We wear busyness as a badge of honor—even as it burns us out—while I wonder if it’s often not the workload that exhausts us, but the lack of connecting with what we are doing.
As much as we can “overwrite” noticing for quite a while, constant stimulation can’t replace real alignment with our strengths and passions.
Boredom, once the birthplace of creativity, now feels alien. We soothe every itch instantly, never letting restlessness lead us somewhere deeper.
I increasingly wonder if loneliness is closely linked to acting removed from our inner North, more than we often pin that sensation on the lack of company.
It's a loneliness rooted in not seeing ourselves, having replaced that self-awareness by worrying how we are “supposed” to see ourselves according to external measures. It’s a loneliness that comes with busyness becoming the goal, not the path to discovery, as the Norwegian explorer, publisher and author Erling Kagge notes.
Reclaiming the Power to Pause
As we were the ones giving our attention away so compulsively, it's not only in our interest, but encouragingly within our power to reclaim it when we learn to resist the reflex to jump at everything triggering our attention.
This is how we find relief in backing off from the constant noise, giving ourselves the chance to hear our own intuition buried under the endless external input. It's how we rediscover our innate curiosity to explore and experience life more deeply as we give life and ourselves space to breathe and process what we relate with.
In Meditations, Marcus Aurelius ponders: "It’s time you realized that you have something in you more powerful and miraculous than the things that affect you and make you dance like a puppet."
It seems worth a try to move from merely reacting to all the input we let ourselves be bombarded with, to acting from a place of calm instead.
The Quiet Act of Rebellion
It's been turning out that the racing thoughts ease off when I back down from constant reading, researching, and tightly scheduled input to go for a plain solitary walk. It reins in the scattered energy by focusing on whatever step I am taking, letting things fall off the table without seeking external permission to do so—and realizing the world is still spinning on its axis regardless.
Intentionally spending your attention is about choosing to consciously ignore many things as a way of choosing what truly matters to you.
It's about remembering that a Yes to yourself does not automatically mean you are rejecting someone. On the contrary, it can lead to being fiercely present when you do spend time together – a true gift in a world where most people we face are somewhere else entirely.
In an economy that profits from our distraction, choosing to limit where we put our attention is a quiet act of rebellion.
T.S. Eliot, reflecting on the “Life we have lost in living,” pointed out that “no human can hope to be completely free who lives within reach of familiar habits and urgencies.”
It´s the reason we might have an easier time relaxing removed from the daily tasks facing us .
It's a pointer towards the power of rediscovering boredom, to see what we are actually burying under all the hurrying.
Give yourself a moment to feel for yourself what happens when you let yourself be still.
Resist that twitch to grab for a distraction as often as you can. Hold on a bit longer. Let that boredom really sink in until it hits a tipping point:
The point where you suddenly see things that have been there all along unnoticed. The one where you connect the dots regarding a question you have been carrying around for a while too tense for an answer to emerge. The tipping point where creativity and real rest begin as you break through the purgatory of boredom.
Give it a Go: Simple Steps to Reclaim Focus
Set digital boundaries by muting notifications, limiting screen time, and deleting apps you don’t need regularly.
Be intentional when you’re online. Before you open an app, ask: “What am I here for?” Set a purpose, then log off when you’re done, so you don’t get stuck in the rabbit hole of scrolling.
Connect for real by calling a friend or meeting up face-to-face, being decidedly present with someone while relishing the exchange of energy.
Try a mini digital detox by unplugging for a day, a weekend, or even just leaving your phone at home for a walk. Notice how you feel. Are you grabbing your empty pocket for a phone that isn’t there the way you might look at your naked wrist when you are used to wearing a watch but don't have it on?
Have You Asked Yourself?
Do you actually need to do everything you are convinced is a necessity?
What if you drop something and see about the impact?
Does it even remotely turn out as negative as you feared?
How much of your day are you truly paying attention to?
What do you worry most about missing out on?