The Space for Real Thoughts

David Dashiell

Photo by Chris Flexen on Unsplash

Recently, I’ve been doing some thinking. That might not seem groundbreaking to you, but it is for me.

I’m on the tail end of the millennial generation, and I would have liked to think that I didn’t have the same issues with technology dependence that the others in my generation have. But I’ve realized that my capacity for clear, sustained thought has been shrinking and shrinking since the time I got a smartphone at the end of college.

When I was young(er), I used to look at the world and the people around me with wonder. Isn’t it amazing how the leaves turn and change color before a thunderstorm? Who thought of the idea for the first building materials? Why do people think the way they do? I distinctly remember observing and reflecting. In the process, I formed many rash judgments, but I also drew some enduring and valuable conclusions about the way things work and the ways people act.

But the slow creep of apps, notifications, convenient internet access, and instant communication crippled that reflective impulse. I consider myself to be a person with a good amount of self-control, but eventually, I found myself checking the MyParish and Patreon apps in the bathroom, knowing full well that there would be absolutely nothing waiting for me there. What’s the point of checking your phone if you know that it’s useless?

Without getting into the weeds of pieces like The Social Dilemma (Netflix), Digital Minimalism (Cal Newport), and Inside (Bo Burnham), I began to see that the addictiveness of smartphones, and more specifically of social media, is by design. It might not have been at first, but when current and former tech leaders are telling you that they’ve designed the interface of their platforms to maximize screen time to give advertisers the greatest incentive to continue funding their companies, you see that things are different now.

There are a number of factors at play, but for myself, the concept of intermittent reward was too difficult to resist. It’s one thing to frequent an activity because you know that it will be enjoyable and enriching. But it’s markedly more addictive to engage in something that might be rewarding. You just never know what might be around the corner when you open Facebook. Will it be an argument or a heartwarming photo of a relative? Maybe both in the same post? Maybe nothing new at all! But you won’t know until you check. And people are always posting, so what are you missing right now?

That’s how I found myself thinking after only about five years with a smartphone. The internet waited for me, with everything that I needed and everything I didn’t need. There would always be a new article, podcast, or social media post to check in on. With all of that information, there’s not a lot of thinking that needs to be done on your part. You consume the content, and you’re informed. No real observation or reflection is necessary.

The problem is, of course, that this isn’t an authentically human experience. We aren’t meant to just take in information and repeat the ideas of others without internalizing anything. We’re meant to listen to, observe, and grapple with ideas both great and small, but we’re meant to do so as subjects and not objects.

In the process of learning about the new dynamics of smartphones, social media, and the internet, I realized that I had been letting everyone else do my thinking for me. I was repeating the thoughts of others without reflection and was too distracted by the pull of new information to be attentive to what was happening in the present. The allure of availability to the world had actually closed me off to reality.

What surprised me was how powerful all of this was, even after I had turned off my notifications for months. The temptation to know everything at all times was still there, even without a vibration telling me that there was something new to be seen.

After a number of attempts to dial back my dependence via self-control, I had to enlist some help. Now, I’ve thinned out my apps and locked myself out of the internet browser with parental controls. My wife has the password, and I don’t know what it is. When I remember to, I try to put my phone in a difficult-to-reach place at home so that there’s no visual reminder of what I might be missing.

The fruit of this is still growing, but I’m happy to say that I’ve been practicing those old habits of observing and reflecting once again. It can be agonizing at first, conditioned as we are to fill our time with anything that fits. But when we dedicate time to simply being present and having real thoughts, we find things much more peaceful and pleasant than the rush of content waiting on the internet.

Thinking has always been difficult, but it has always been worthwhile. My hope is that I can remember that consistently enough to push through the boredom, ultimately realizing that openness to the Lord and His work is better than openness to the world and its information.

David Dashiell is a husband, father, and freelance copyeditor, proofreader, and writer in the Nashville area. His educational background is in theology, but he decided to focus on editing and writing after some time in the liturgical world.