THE MOMENT BEFORE THE WORLD GETS ITS HANDS ON YOU
There’s something special about the moments immediately after waking up, before the outside world has a chance to reach inside your head and start telling you what to think, what to worry about, and what you need to do next. I’ve always appreciated that space between the dream world and the reality waiting for me when I open my eyes. My mind is still fresh, my thoughts are moving freely, and I haven’t yet allowed the demands of the world to interfere with the things I need to accomplish. Sometimes, the most interesting thoughts come to me when I haven’t spoken to anybody, answered a phone call, or even had a conversation with the person closest to me. There’s something powerful about hearing your own thoughts before the world starts adding its noise.
This morning, I got out of bed, walked into my studio, and fired up the microphone. I had received a voicemail from a dear friend, a sister in spirit whom I consider family, and we had exchanged thoughts about something that deserves more attention than we might realize. The conversation centered on a feeling that seems increasingly familiar to people from different walks of life: the feeling that we’re falling behind. We’re working, planning, sacrificing, and trying to improve ourselves, yet something keeps telling us that we aren’t doing enough. Even when we accomplish something meaningful, the satisfaction doesn’t always last. We finish one task, and instead of appreciating what we’ve done, our minds immediately rush toward the next thing we haven’t finished.
Now, I want you to think about that for a moment. How many times have you worked hard all day, looked back at everything you accomplished, and still gone to bed feeling as though you wasted your time? You might have cleaned your home, worked on a business, exercised, read a few chapters of a book, completed an important project, or finally handled something you had been putting off for weeks. By any reasonable measure, you made progress. Yet, somewhere in the back of your mind, a voice tells you that you should have done more. You should have moved faster. You should have made more money, achieved more success, or gotten further ahead by now. Instead of feeling satisfied with your progress, you feel guilty about everything that remains unfinished.
I remember a time when accomplishing a goal could give you a genuine sense of satisfaction. Depending on your age, that memory might take you back five years, twenty years, or even further. You decided to do something, put your mind to it, worked through the difficulties, and eventually got it done. Maybe you wanted to lose weight, straighten up your yard, finish reading a book, learn a new skill, or build something with your own hands. Whatever the goal was, you could see the results of your effort, and you could feel the difference inside yourself. You knew that you had made progress, and that knowledge gave you the confidence to move toward the next goal.
But what happens when you keep putting the same effort into your life and the feeling of accomplishment becomes harder to find? What happens when you’re not lazy, you’re not sitting around doing nothing, and you’re not lacking ambition, yet you feel strangely empty after accomplishing things that should make you proud? I believe we need to look beyond the usual explanations. Yes, social media is a problem. Yes, poor time management can interfere with our progress. But I suspect that we’re dealing with something much bigger than the number of hours we spend looking at a screen. We need to examine what’s happening to our attention, our desires, our expectations, and our ability to experience the simple satisfaction of being alive.
THE BUCKET THAT NEVER FILLS UP
Imagine trying to fill a bucket with water. You stand there pouring water into it, watching the level rise, and expecting that eventually the bucket will be full. You keep working because you know that your effort is producing results. But every time you look down, something seems wrong. The water isn’t rising the way it should. You pour more, wait a little longer, and check again, but the level barely changes. You start to wonder whether you’re doing something wrong. Maybe you need to work harder, pour faster, or find a better way to get the job done. What you don’t realize is that somebody has poked holes in the bottom of your bucket. No matter how much water you pour into it, something is draining away what you’re trying to accumulate.
That’s the image that came to my mind when I started thinking about why so many people feel as though they’re falling behind. We’re pouring our time, energy, creativity, and ambition into our lives, but we’re allowing other things to drain away the satisfaction that should come from our efforts. We might be getting somewhere in the physical world while feeling as though we’re going nowhere inside ourselves. Our accomplishments are real, but our ability to appreciate them is being weakened by constant distractions, endless comparisons, and a digital environment designed to keep our attention moving from one thing to another.
I’m not suggesting that everybody who feels dissatisfied has the same problem. Life is difficult, bills are real, opportunities are unequal, and some people are carrying burdens that others will never understand. There are people working multiple jobs who still struggle to pay their rent. There are people caring for sick relatives, raising children, recovering from painful experiences, or trying to rebuild their lives after serious setbacks. We shouldn’t insult those people by pretending that every difficulty can be solved by putting down a phone. But we also shouldn’t ignore how modern technology can add another layer of pressure to lives that are already demanding.
The problem begins when we confuse activity with progress and progress with personal worth. We can spend an entire day reacting to messages, watching videos, arguing with strangers, checking notifications, and absorbing information without completing one meaningful task of our own. At the end of the day, we’re exhausted because our attention has been pulled in a dozen directions, but we have very little to show for the energy we spent. Then we blame ourselves for being unproductive, even though we allowed our mental resources to be consumed by things that never deserved that much of our time in the first place.
And here’s the real question: What if the bucket isn’t empty because you aren’t pouring enough into it? What if it’s empty because you haven’t paid attention to what’s draining it? That’s where the conversation needs to begin. Before you condemn yourself for not doing enough, take a serious look at where your attention goes, what occupies your mind, and how much of your day belongs to you. You might discover that the problem isn’t your lack of effort. It might be the constant leakage of your effort into things that offer little in return.
YOUR PHONE IS THE FIRST THING ASKING FOR YOUR SOUL
Let’s talk about the smartphone, because many of us have developed a relationship with this device that would have seemed ridiculous just a few decades ago. Some people reach for their phones before their feet even touch the floor. They haven’t brushed their teeth, washed their faces, or even taken a moment to understand how they feel after waking up, but they’re already checking messages, reading comments, scanning headlines, and looking for something interesting to stimulate their minds. Some people keep the phone beside them all night and reach for it almost automatically, as though the day cannot begin until the device gives them permission to enter the world.
Think about the implications of that habit. Before you’ve had a chance to establish your own thoughts for the day, you’re inviting the opinions, emergencies, arguments, advertisements, and expectations of other people into your mind. Somebody else’s bad news can become your first emotional experience of the morning. Somebody else’s success can make you question your own progress. Somebody else’s argument can put you in a hostile mood before you’ve even had breakfast. And a notification from a stranger can suddenly become more important than the work you promised yourself you would complete.
The technology companies that operate many popular platforms have strong financial reasons to keep people engaged. Notifications, personalized recommendations, autoplay, and endless scrolling can encourage people to remain on a platform longer than they originally intended. Features such as likes, comments, and social feedback can also make checking a phone feel rewarding. When something unpredictable appears on the screen, you may feel compelled to check again because the next message or video might be more interesting than the last one. You don’t need to believe in a grand conspiracy to recognize that attention has become a valuable commodity, and that many digital services compete aggressively to capture it.
The result can be a habit that feels almost automatic. You pick up your phone to check one message, and thirty minutes later, you’re watching something you never intended to watch. You enter a conversation to make one point, and an hour later, you’re arguing with somebody whose name you didn’t know that morning. You go to bed intending to get a full night’s rest, but one interesting video leads to another until you’ve sacrificed sleep for content you might barely remember the following day. Then you wake up tired, struggle to focus, and wonder why your motivation has disappeared.
And let me tell you something: Not every argument deserves your participation, not every notification deserves your attention, and not every person who wants access to you deserves it. Some of us are giving strangers more of our emotional energy than we give the people sitting in the same room with us. We’re defending our opinions against people who have no real investment in our lives while neglecting the projects, relationships, and responsibilities that actually matter. We’re giving away hours of our lives to prove a point that might be forgotten by everybody involved before the next day arrives.
I’m not telling you to throw away your phone and pretend that modern technology has no value. I use technology in my own creative work, and I understand how useful it can be. The question is whether you control the tool or the tool controls you. If you can’t leave your phone alone long enough to finish a meaningful task, have a peaceful meal, or enjoy a conversation, then you need to examine that relationship honestly. Your phone should serve your life. Your life shouldn’t become an unpaid source of attention for your phone.
THE SPIRITUAL DIMENSION OF THE DIGITAL WORLD
Now, this is where I want to take the conversation beyond the usual discussion about screen time, because I look at human behavior through a spiritual lens as well as a practical one. When I use the word spiritual, I’m not automatically talking about something sweet, peaceful, or wholesome. I’m talking about the deeper dimensions of human existence, including the struggle between what strengthens us and what weakens us, what encourages compassion and what feeds cruelty, and what helps us grow versus what keeps us trapped in destructive patterns.
I believe there’s a difference between using technology and allowing it to shape the person you become. There’s a difference between watching something and allowing it to influence your desires, your expectations, and your treatment of other people. Every day, we encounter images, arguments, stories, and messages that can affect how we understand ourselves and the world around us. Some of those influences are helpful. Others encourage envy, anger, fear, lust, greed, or a constant hunger for approval. The danger is that we can absorb these influences gradually without noticing how much they have changed our behavior.
I sometimes think about the spiritual side of this problem as though we’re walking through a neighborhood we don’t understand. Imagine driving through an unfamiliar city late at night, trying to reach the home of somebody you care about. You take a wrong turn, and suddenly the surroundings feel different. The street is poorly lit, people are watching your vehicle, and something about the situation tells you that you shouldn’t stay there. You don’t need to understand every detail of the neighborhood to recognize that you may have entered a place where caution is necessary. You pay attention, turn around when it’s safe, and find your way back to the route you intended to take.
I believe we need that same awareness when we move through cyberspace. The internet isn’t one single environment with one single purpose. It contains education, art, music, friendship, research, entertainment, scams, manipulation, exploitation, and material designed to provoke strong emotional reactions. Some digital spaces help people develop their minds, while others encourage them to become more hostile, more insecure, or more dependent on constant stimulation. If we move through these spaces without paying attention to how they affect us, we can gradually become comfortable in environments that leave us emotionally exhausted.
When I describe certain digital influences as spiritual parasites or soul snatchers, I’m expressing my personal spiritual interpretation of what I believe these environments can do to people. I’m not claiming that a supernatural entity has been scientifically proven to inhabit a phone or that every negative feeling comes from an invisible force. My point is that something can take from you without your recognizing the cost. A habit can drain your attention. An obsession can weaken your self-control. A constant diet of anger can make you more hostile. A stream of sexualized images can make you preoccupied with desire. And endless comparison can make you feel inadequate even when your life is moving forward.
Whether you interpret that struggle spiritually, psychologically, or through the study of human behavior, the consequences can be very real. You may lose sleep, become impatient with loved ones, struggle to concentrate, or find it difficult to enjoy experiences that once made you happy. You may start measuring your value through the reactions of strangers rather than through your own principles and accomplishments. You may become so accustomed to stimulation that ordinary life begins to feel dull. The metaphor of a parasite becomes powerful because it describes an influence that feeds on your attention while leaving you with less energy for the things that matter.
The real question isn’t whether you can see an invisible force with your eyes. The question is whether you can recognize what’s happening to your life. Are you becoming more patient or more irritable? Are you more focused or more scattered? Are your relationships becoming deeper or more distant? Are you accomplishing meaningful things and enjoying them, or are you constantly searching for another hit of stimulation? Those questions can reveal whether your habits are strengthening you or quietly taking something away from you.
CERN, ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE, AND THE LINE BETWEEN SCIENCE AND SPECULATION
I also want to address something that has become part of my personal way of looking at the world: the relationship between scientific discovery, artificial intelligence, and the unseen dimensions of existence. CERN, the European particle physics research organization in Switzerland, operates the Large Hadron Collider, a machine used to study fundamental particles and the forces that shape the physical universe. Researchers conduct experiments there to investigate questions about matter, energy, and the basic structure of nature. These are complicated subjects, and I understand why some of the language surrounding particle physics can sound almost like science fiction to people who aren’t familiar with it.
But I want to make an important distinction. There’s no reliable scientific evidence that CERN has torn a hole between the physical and spiritual worlds or released demonic entities into human society. That’s a speculative spiritual interpretation, not an established scientific finding. I can explore such possibilities as part of my personal worldview without pretending that I have proof of them. What we can examine directly, however, is how rapidly technology is changing the environment in which human beings think, communicate, work, and form relationships.
Artificial intelligence is one of the clearest examples. AI systems can generate images, imitate voices, produce videos, write convincing text, and analyze patterns in enormous amounts of information. The quality of these systems has improved significantly, and some of their outputs can be difficult to distinguish from genuine photographs, recordings, or human-created material. These tools can help artists, researchers, businesses, and ordinary people accomplish things that once required much more time and specialized training. But the same capabilities can also be used to mislead people, imitate others, manipulate emotions, or create false impressions of reality.
The concern becomes more serious when we consider how much personal information we share online. Depending on the platform, its settings, and the permissions we grant, digital services may collect information about our activity, preferences, interactions, and interests. Some systems use information to personalize recommendations or improve their services. Other systems may process conversations, uploaded materials, or user feedback according to their particular policies. The details vary, which is why people need to read privacy settings and understand what they’re agreeing to rather than assuming every service handles their information in the same way.
I’ve used AI in my own creative process, including for visual concepts and other material that supports my work. As an artist, I understand the appeal of being able to develop an image quickly when I have an idea in mind. I also remember when AI-generated pictures often contained obvious mistakes, strange hands, distorted faces, or details that ignored the original request. Those limitations have become less obvious in many systems. The technology is developing, and that means we need to become more aware of what we’re looking at and how easily an image or recording can influence our emotions before we’ve established whether it’s genuine.
My concern is that we may become so impressed by the ability of machines to imitate human expression that we forget to ask who created the system, what information it uses, what incentives guide its design, and what the person viewing the output is expected to do next. A convincing image can trigger attraction. A fabricated video can provoke outrage. A synthetic voice can create trust. A personalized recommendation can keep us watching long after we intended to stop. None of these effects requires a supernatural explanation to deserve serious attention. They demonstrate how powerful technology can become when it interacts with the most predictable parts of human psychology.
I view these developments as part of a larger struggle over human attention and independence. My spiritual interpretation may go beyond what science can establish, but my practical concern remains straightforward: We must not become so fascinated by what technology can do that we stop thinking critically about what it’s doing to us. We need to understand the difference between a tool that expands our abilities and a system that quietly encourages us to surrender our judgment. The more convincing digital experiences become, the more important it becomes to preserve our ability to question, verify, and think for ourselves.
WHEN THE MACHINE LEARNS WHAT YOU WANT
Have you ever noticed how quickly an online platform can begin showing you more of something you recently watched, searched for, or engaged with? You might look for a particular kind of music, and suddenly your recommendations are filled with similar songs and long compilations. You might watch a video about exercise, and your feed begins offering workout routines, fitness advice, and discussions about nutrition. Sometimes this is useful. It saves time and helps you discover material you genuinely enjoy. But the same process can become a problem when the recommendations begin reinforcing habits that make you less healthy, less informed, or less in control of your time.
Personalized systems can learn from signals such as clicks, viewing time, searches, likes, and other forms of engagement, depending on the service. They can use those signals to estimate what might hold your interest. The result can feel almost personal because the material being offered is connected to things you have already shown an interest in. But we need to remember that a recommendation is not necessarily an expression of care for your well-being. A system designed to maximize engagement may keep presenting material that holds your attention even when spending more time with that material is not good for you.
This is where I want people to think carefully about their desires. Suppose you repeatedly engage with material that makes you angry. The system may interpret that engagement as a signal to show you more of the same subject. You become more irritated, respond to another post, and spend even more time inside the same emotional cycle. Suppose you keep looking at content that makes you feel inadequate about your appearance, finances, or relationships. You may receive more content that reinforces those insecurities. The system doesn’t need to understand your deepest emotional needs to keep presenting material that attracts your attention.
And here’s where the situation can become uncomfortable. Sometimes we tell ourselves that we’re simply watching something because we enjoy it, but we don’t stop to ask whether the habit is changing the way we think or behave. We may insist that we’re only browsing, only entertaining ourselves, or only looking at what everyone else is looking at. Meanwhile, our attention is being directed toward increasingly specific interests, and our own behavior is helping determine what appears next. The system learns from our activity, and we respond to the system’s recommendations. That feedback loop can become powerful.
I’ve experienced moments in my own creative work when the technology seems surprisingly familiar with the direction of my interests. That can feel strange, especially when a recommendation appears to reflect something personal. But we should be careful not to confuse an accurate recommendation with proof that a system has access to every private memory or secret we possess. Algorithms can infer interests from patterns, and some platforms may use information we previously supplied or permitted them to process. When something feels overly personal, the sensible response is to review the service’s privacy practices and settings rather than immediately assuming that it knows every detail of our lives.
Still, the larger warning deserves attention. We should be careful about what we repeatedly consume, what we encourage through our engagement, and what we allow to occupy our minds. We cannot always control what appears on a screen, but we can learn to control whether we continue watching, whether we respond, whether we share, and whether we give something another hour of our lives. The machine may offer the next temptation, but we still have a responsibility to decide whether that temptation deserves our participation.
LUST, ANGER, AND THE EXPLOITATION OF HUMAN DESIRE
Let me bring this conversation into a more personal area, because I believe honesty is necessary if we’re going to understand how these systems can influence us. I’m an artist, and I appreciate the human form. I appreciate beauty in all its variety, including the natural differences in the way people look as they age and move through life. A real human body doesn’t have to be airbrushed, polished, or presented as some impossible standard of perfection to possess beauty. Sometimes the details that make a person different from everybody else are precisely what make them interesting to an artist.
But there’s a difference between appreciating beauty and allowing desire to take over your attention. There’s a difference between studying a subject from an artistic perspective and finding yourself drawn into a cycle of images that leaves you thinking about little else. I’m willing to admit that I can recognize the moment when something that began as artistic curiosity starts moving in another direction. That’s an important moment because it gives me an opportunity to ask myself what I’m doing, why I’m doing it, and whether I want to continue.
The same principle applies to anger. There’s nothing wrong with being concerned about politics, injustice, discrimination, or the direction of society. There are serious issues that deserve our attention, and people have every right to express their opinions. But what happens when our concern becomes a constant state of hostility? What happens when every disagreement becomes a personal battle and every opposing opinion becomes a reason to hate somebody? We may begin by seeking information, but eventually we find ourselves returning to the same arguments because the conflict itself has become part of our routine.
The digital environment can make both lust and anger profitable forms of attention. Content that provokes a strong emotional response may encourage people to click, comment, share, and return for more. Not every platform or creator uses those tactics deliberately, and not every recommendation is designed to exploit a weakness. Nevertheless, outrage and provocative material can be effective at holding attention. When we recognize that, we need to stop assuming that everything placed in front of us deserves our emotional investment.
I believe we should examine the difference between desire and control. Desire itself is part of being human. Attraction is human. Curiosity is human. Anger in response to injustice is human. But any of these emotions can become destructive when we allow them to control our choices. If a stream of images begins distracting you from your responsibilities or affecting your relationships, you need to recognize that before the habit becomes more difficult to manage. If political content leaves you angry from morning until night, you need to ask whether you’re becoming more informed or simply becoming more agitated.
The same warning applies to material that encourages humiliation, cruelty, or the objectification of other people. We can appreciate beauty without forgetting that the person on the screen is a human being with a life beyond our imagination. We can disagree with somebody without wishing to destroy them. We can have strong personal beliefs without believing that every person who lives differently from us is an enemy. Boundaries matter, and so does the ability to recognize that our private choices do not give us unlimited authority over the lives of others.
What I’m advocating is self-awareness, not pretending that human beings have no desires or weaknesses. I want people to understand their own behavior well enough to recognize when something has crossed a line. If you find yourself repeatedly returning to content that leaves you ashamed, angry, distracted, or emotionally exhausted, don’t ignore that feeling. Ask yourself what need you’re trying to satisfy and whether the habit is actually satisfying it. Sometimes, the very thing we keep reaching for is the thing preventing us from finding peace.
HOW DIGITAL DIVISION WEAKENS OUR COMMUNITIES
One of the things that troubles me most about our current digital environment is the way it can turn differences into permanent battles. People who share common concerns can become enemies because they disagree about political parties, social movements, cultural questions, or the best way to solve a problem. Instead of examining where they agree and working through their differences, they become consumed by proving that the other person is wrong. The argument becomes more important than the original issue, and the possibility of cooperation disappears beneath a mountain of insults.
I see this as a serious concern within the Black community and across the wider African diaspora. We have people arguing over political labels, ideological positions, historical interpretations, and different approaches to building a better future. Some disagreements are meaningful, and some deserve a serious challenge. We should never demand that people abandon their judgment simply because they share a background or a common history. But there’s a difference between honest disagreement and a culture in which every disagreement becomes an excuse to attack one another.
We can spend hours debating labels while neglecting the practical work of building stronger families, improving education, supporting local businesses, developing useful skills, preserving cultural knowledge, and creating opportunities for the next generation. We can become so invested in proving that another person is misguided that we forget to ask what we ourselves are building. Meanwhile, the time and energy we spend fighting online could have been invested in projects that produce real benefits for our communities.
The digital environment can intensify this division because emotionally charged content often attracts strong reactions. A provocative statement can travel farther than a thoughtful explanation. A short clip can make somebody appear foolish without showing the full conversation. A misleading headline can encourage thousands of people to take sides before they understand the facts. Once people become emotionally invested, they may defend a position even when new information shows that the situation is more complicated than they first believed.
And let me be clear: Unity doesn’t mean pretending that everybody is right, overlooking harmful behavior, or refusing to challenge people who spread misinformation. Real unity requires honesty, accountability, and the willingness to work through differences without turning every disagreement into a permanent war. We can challenge one another while still recognizing our shared humanity. We can hold people responsible without allowing anger to become the only language we know how to speak.
I also believe we need to examine how much of our identity has become tied to our online arguments. Some people appear to feel that if they stop fighting for a particular position, they will lose their sense of belonging. Others may fear that changing their minds will expose them to ridicule. The result is a cycle in which people defend their public image instead of pursuing the truth. They become more concerned with winning the argument than understanding the issue, and they mistake constant conflict for meaningful participation.
The solution begins when we decide that our attention is too valuable to spend carelessly. We should choose our battles with greater wisdom, verify information before sharing it, and recognize when a conversation has stopped producing anything useful. We should invest more energy in the work that strengthens our communities and less in the endless performance of outrage. If a digital platform makes it easier for us to despise people we have never met, we need to be especially careful about allowing it to shape our understanding of the people standing beside us.
THE INVISIBLE DRAIN ON HUMAN CONNECTION
I often wonder how different our social lives would feel if we could recover the ability to give one another our full attention. Think about the gatherings, parties, family dinners, and neighborhood conversations that people used to experience without the constant presence of a screen. People could sit together, laugh, tell stories, disagree, share memories, and enjoy one another’s company without feeling compelled to document every moment or check whether somebody had responded to a message. The experience wasn’t perfect, because human relationships have always had their problems, but there was often more room for people to be present with one another.
Today, we can sit in a room with people we love while our attention is somewhere else entirely. We may be physically present but mentally occupied by strangers, videos, messages, and arguments happening thousands of miles away. A person sitting across from us may be trying to share something important while we keep glancing at the phone in our hands. We tell ourselves that we’re listening, but our attention keeps drifting. Over time, these small moments can affect the quality of our relationships because people notice when they have to compete with a device to receive our attention.
I don’t believe we should romanticize the past as though every earlier generation lived in perfect harmony. People experienced loneliness, family conflict, betrayal, and social isolation long before smartphones existed. But technology has introduced new ways to divide our attention, and we need to recognize those changes honestly. The fact that we can contact almost anyone at any time doesn’t automatically mean that we feel more connected. Sometimes, the constant availability of communication makes us less comfortable with silence and less willing to invest in the deeper conversations that require patience.
There’s also a difference between having many contacts and having meaningful relationships. A person can receive hundreds of reactions and still feel lonely. Someone can have thousands of followers and still struggle to find a person they trust with their real concerns. A popular post can create the appearance of connection without providing the support that comes from a friend who knows your character, understands your history, and will tell you the truth when you need to hear it.
I believe we need to restore the value of ordinary human experiences. Sitting outside and enjoying the weather, sharing a meal without interruptions, walking with somebody you care about, or having a long conversation can provide a kind of satisfaction that cannot be measured by clicks or comments. These experiences may not look impressive on a screen, but their value is found in the lives we build through them. We don’t need to turn every meaningful moment into content for public consumption.
The goal isn’t to reject technology or abandon the people we know online. Digital communication can help us maintain friendships, share knowledge, and build communities across great distances. The goal is to make sure that our use of technology supports our relationships rather than replacing them. If we want deeper connections, we need to give people our attention, our time, and our willingness to be present. We need to remember that a life can look busy online while feeling strangely empty in private.
WHY YOU CAN ACCOMPLISH MORE AND FEEL LESS SATISFIED
Now let’s return to the feeling of falling behind, because this is where all these ideas come together. You can be productive and dissatisfied at the same time. You can complete your work, earn money, improve your skills, and make progress toward your goals while feeling as though you haven’t done enough. That feeling can come from many sources, including financial pressure, unrealistic expectations, exhaustion, personal struggles, and the constant comparison encouraged by digital platforms. When we fail to recognize those influences, we may conclude that something is wrong with us simply because we cannot feel satisfied.
One problem is that social media often presents us with carefully selected pieces of other people’s lives. We see the new house, the expensive vacation, the business success, the physical transformation, or the public celebration. We rarely see every failure, every unpaid bill, every difficult conversation, or every sacrifice that occurred behind the scenes. We compare our complete lives, including all our problems, with somebody else’s selected highlights and then wonder why we feel inadequate. That comparison is unfair from the beginning, yet we repeat it every day.
Another problem is that we can become addicted to the idea of the next achievement. We tell ourselves that we’ll finally relax when we make more money, finish the next project, reach the next milestone, or receive the recognition we believe we deserve. But when we reach that point, the relief may be brief because we have already created another target. There’s nothing wrong with ambition, and I’m certainly not telling people to stop striving for improvement. I’m saying that ambition becomes a burden when we make our happiness permanently dependent on a future achievement.
We also need to understand the difference between meaningful work and constant activity. Meaningful work moves us toward something we value. Constant activity can simply keep us occupied. You can spend hours responding to other people’s demands without moving your own plans forward. You can consume so much information about a subject that you never make time to practice what you’ve learned. You can spend the entire day thinking about what you need to accomplish while doing very little that directly contributes to the goal.
This is why I believe protecting your attention is one of the most important skills you can develop. When you decide what matters before the day begins, you give yourself a better chance of completing work that deserves your energy. When you limit interruptions, you can stay with a task long enough to make meaningful progress. When you take time to recognize what you’ve accomplished, you allow yourself to experience the satisfaction that might otherwise be swallowed by the next demand.
And please understand that rest isn’t a failure. You’re not falling behind simply because you need sleep, a break, or time away from your responsibilities. A person who works without allowing themselves to recover may eventually find that their productivity suffers. You don’t have to fill every minute to prove that you’re serious about your future. Sometimes the wisest thing you can do is step away from the noise, regain your balance, and return to your work with a clearer mind.
If you’ve been feeling unmotivated, persistently empty, or unable to enjoy things that once mattered to you, don’t automatically blame technology or assume that you have a spiritual problem. Examine your habits, but also consider whether stress, burnout, depression, sleep problems, or other health concerns may be contributing. Seeking support when you need it doesn’t make you weak. It means you’re taking responsibility for your well-being rather than allowing a difficult situation to continue without attention.
THE PARASITE METAPHOR: WHAT’S FEEDING ON YOUR ATTENTION?
Let’s use another comparison to make this easier to understand. Imagine an electrical system in your home. You turn on a light, and it works as expected. Then somebody starts another appliance on the same circuit, and the lights briefly dim. The electrical demand has changed, and the system is responding to that demand. If the circuit becomes overloaded, a properly functioning breaker can interrupt the power to help protect the wiring. The lesson is simple: Resources are limited, and when too many demands compete for them, something has to give.
Your attention works in a similar way, even though the brain isn’t an electrical circuit in the same technical sense. You have a limited amount of time and mental energy each day. When you divide your attention between too many competing demands, it becomes harder to give any one of them your best effort. If you’re trying to write an article while checking messages, watching videos, and following arguments, your concentration keeps getting interrupted. You may eventually finish the work, but it can take longer and leave you feeling more exhausted than necessary.
That’s why I use the language of parasites when describing certain habits and influences. I’m talking about things that feed on our attention without providing an equal benefit in return. A destructive habit can consume time you intended to spend with your family. A constant stream of outrage can leave you emotionally drained. Endless browsing can interfere with sleep. A need for approval can make you dependent on reactions from people who have no real understanding of your life. These influences may not literally be living organisms, but they can still consume resources that you need for your own growth.
The danger is that we sometimes become so accustomed to the drain that we mistake it for normal life. We wake up tired because we stayed online too late, so we use more stimulation to get through the morning. We struggle to concentrate because our attention is fragmented, so we look for another quick distraction when the work becomes difficult. We feel dissatisfied because we spend too much time comparing ourselves with others, so we return to the same platforms looking for reassurance. Before long, the habit that contributes to the problem becomes the habit we use to escape the feeling it creates.
From my spiritual perspective, this cycle can also be understood as a struggle to protect the inner life. I believe we should pay attention to the thoughts, desires, and influences we allow to settle into our minds. Not every temptation needs to be entertained, not every emotion needs to be acted upon, and not every thought deserves to become a permanent part of our identity. Spiritual discipline, for me, means taking responsibility for what I allow to shape my character and refusing to surrender my judgment to every influence that comes along.
But I also want us to remain grounded. We don’t need to imagine that every person who behaves badly has been taken over by a supernatural force. We don’t need to label strangers as soulless or assume that somebody’s anger proves that an invisible entity is controlling them. Human beings are capable of cruelty, deception, and selfishness without any supernatural explanation. They’re also capable of change, compassion, and extraordinary courage. We should judge behavior carefully rather than making claims about another person’s inner spiritual condition that we cannot verify.
The practical lesson is that we need to protect the resources we depend on. Pay attention to your sleep, your habits, your relationships, and the way you feel after spending time online. Notice which activities leave you more informed, creative, peaceful, and prepared to live your life. Notice which ones leave you agitated, distracted, envious, or exhausted. You may not be able to eliminate every source of stress, but you can make more deliberate decisions about what receives your time and energy.
HOW I PROTECT MY TIME AND MAINTAIN MY FOCUS
People sometimes wonder how I manage to work on so many different creative projects. I write, produce content, develop ideas, create artwork, and continue building my platform. I’m not going to pretend that I never become distracted or that I have discovered some perfect formula for productivity. But I have learned that protecting my time requires deliberate choices. If I allow every notification, every conversation, and every interesting subject to interrupt my work, I cannot expect to accomplish everything I want to accomplish.
For me, solitude can be a useful tool. I appreciate having time to think without constantly responding to the expectations of other people. When I enter my studio and begin working, I want my attention to belong to the task in front of me. I don’t need to know what every stranger is saying, what every platform is recommending, or what argument is attracting the most attention at that moment. Those things can wait while I work on something that matters to me.
I also believe in deciding what deserves attention before the day becomes crowded. If I know that I need to complete an article, work on an illustration, or prepare material for a video, I can give those priorities a place in my schedule. I may not complete everything, and unexpected responsibilities can change the plan, but I still have a direction. Without that direction, it becomes easier to spend the day reacting to whatever happens to appear in front of me.
Another important lesson is learning when to leave something alone. Not every interesting idea needs to be explored immediately. Not every conversation needs another response. Not every video deserves to be watched until the end. Sometimes you have to tell yourself that you’ve seen enough, learned enough, or said enough. That decision may seem small, but it’s an important way of reminding yourself that your attention remains under your control.
I also understand that focus isn’t simply about doing more work. It’s about making room for the things that give life meaning. I want my efforts to produce something I can look back on with satisfaction. I want to know that the time I spent creating, learning, or helping somebody served a purpose I actually value. If I spend the entire day consuming other people’s opinions, I may know more about what strangers think, but I haven’t necessarily done anything to advance my own life.
My approach may not work for everybody, and I’m not suggesting that everyone should live in solitude or avoid social contact. People have families, jobs, friendships, caregiving responsibilities, and different needs for connection. The point is to discover what allows you to function at your best and then protect enough space for those conditions to exist. For some people, that means a quiet studio. For others, it means a library, a walk outside, a scheduled work period, or a few hours when notifications are turned off.
The important thing is to stop allowing the world to make every decision about your attention for you. You can be informed without being consumed by the news. You can participate in social media without making it the center of your existence. You can use AI without assuming that every suggestion it produces deserves your trust. You can appreciate entertainment without sacrificing the time you need to build a meaningful life. Those choices require discipline, but they can also restore a sense of freedom that constant distraction gradually takes away.
RECLAIMING THE SATISFACTION OF A LIFE WELL LIVED
I want to bring up an ordinary experience that helps explain what I believe we’re missing. Think about going to an all-you-can-eat buffet. The appeal isn’t necessarily that every dish is the finest food you’ve ever tasted. Sometimes the food is excellent, and sometimes it’s simply good enough. Part of the attraction is having choices. You can sample different things, return to a favorite dish, and decide for yourself when you’ve had enough. There’s a pleasure in the freedom to choose, enjoy what you want, and eventually reach the point where you can sit back and say that you’re satisfied.
That feeling of satisfaction is important because it tells you that, for the moment, you have enough. You don’t need to keep eating simply because more food is available. You can appreciate what you’ve enjoyed without feeling compelled to continue. The ability to recognize that point matters in other parts of life, too. We need to know when we’ve done enough work for the day, when we’ve received enough information, when a conversation has reached its natural conclusion, and when another distraction will provide little value.
Digital platforms often make that stopping point harder to recognize. There’s always another video, another message, another recommendation, another argument, or another piece of information waiting just beyond the screen. You can finish one item and immediately begin another without making a conscious decision to continue. The supply seems endless, and that endless supply can encourage the mistaken belief that we should keep consuming because something better might be waiting next.
But more isn’t always better. More information doesn’t automatically produce greater wisdom. More entertainment doesn’t guarantee greater happiness. More online connections don’t necessarily create deeper relationships. More work doesn’t always produce better results. Sometimes, the most important skill is recognizing when you have received enough and returning to the real responsibilities and relationships that give your life substance.
We also need to stop treating satisfaction as though it’s a reward reserved for people who have completed every task. No human being can finish everything that needs to be done. There will always be another responsibility, another goal, another bill, another project, or another opportunity to improve. If you refuse to appreciate your progress until the entire world is in order, you may spend your life postponing the very feeling you’re working so hard to achieve.
This doesn’t mean that we should become complacent. I still believe in ambition, discipline, and the desire to build something meaningful. But I also believe that we need to develop the ability to recognize our own progress. When you complete a difficult task, take a moment to appreciate it. When you learn something new, acknowledge the effort it required. When you spend meaningful time with someone you love, allow yourself to enjoy the experience without immediately checking what you missed online.
The same principle applies to the way we measure success. We should be careful about allowing other people’s timelines to become the standard by which we judge our own lives. Somebody else may achieve a particular milestone at twenty-five, while another person reaches it at forty-five or sixty-five. Their timing doesn’t determine your worth. Life contains different circumstances, opportunities, responsibilities, and setbacks. Your job is to make the best decisions you can with the life you have, not to spend every day punishing yourself because somebody else appears to be further ahead.
If you want to fill your bucket, you must protect what you pour into it. You must recognize the habits that drain your time, the comparisons that weaken your confidence, and the distractions that prevent you from appreciating your own progress. You must allow yourself to experience the satisfaction of completing something meaningful without immediately turning it into another reason to demand more from yourself.
WE MUST LEARN TO GUARD OUR INNER WORLD
There’s a reason I keep returning to the idea of boundaries. Boundaries help us decide what belongs in our lives and what doesn’t. They allow us to protect our time, our privacy, our relationships, and our personal values. Without boundaries, every demand can become an emergency, every opinion can become an obligation, and every temptation can become an invitation we feel compelled to accept. A person who never learns to say no may eventually discover that everybody else has access to their time while very little of that time remains for their own priorities.
The digital world requires those boundaries just as much as the physical world does. You wouldn’t normally invite every stranger into your home, hand them your personal papers, and allow them to decide how you spend your day. Yet online, people sometimes reveal personal details without thinking carefully about where the information may go. They share private moments, discuss sensitive concerns, publish their locations, and click on links without checking whether the source is trustworthy. Some of that information may be harmless, but some can expose them to scams, manipulation, embarrassment, or other risks.
We should be especially thoughtful about the information we provide to AI systems and other digital services. Read the available privacy settings. Understand whether your information may be stored or used to improve a service. Avoid sharing passwords, financial credentials, or other highly sensitive details in ordinary conversations with tools that don’t need them. Be cautious about uploading private documents or personal photographs, and remember that the rules governing one service may differ from those governing another. Convenience is valuable, but it shouldn’t eliminate our responsibility to protect ourselves.
We also need boundaries around the material we consume. If a particular account constantly provokes anger, consider muting or unfollowing it. If a platform keeps interrupting your work, turn off unnecessary notifications. If you find yourself scrolling long after you intended to stop, set a limit and place the phone somewhere less accessible. If you’re repeatedly drawn into arguments that produce nothing useful, give yourself permission to leave. These choices may seem simple, but they help restore the connection between your intentions and your actions.
And let’s not forget the importance of boundaries in our relationships. Being available to everyone at all times isn’t proof that you’re a good friend, a good family member, or a good person. Sometimes you need to be unavailable so that you can rest, work, think, or give your full attention to someone who is physically present with you. People who genuinely care about you should be able to respect the fact that your time and energy have limits.
From my spiritual perspective, guarding the inner world means paying attention to what shapes our character. I want to become more thoughtful, more disciplined, more aware of my weaknesses, and more deliberate about how I treat others. I don’t want every passing emotion to control my decisions. I don’t want every attractive image to command my attention or every provocative opinion to pull me into an argument. I want to remain capable of choosing my response rather than simply reacting to whatever is placed in front of me.
That’s the kind of freedom I’m talking about. It’s not freedom from every difficulty, every temptation, or every outside influence. It’s the ability to recognize those influences and decide how much power we’re willing to give them. It’s the ability to protect our attention so that we can invest it in something worthwhile. And it’s the ability to remember that our lives are too valuable to surrender them thoughtlessly to systems, habits, or people that don’t share our interests.
TAKE YOUR LIFE BACK
As I sit here in my studio, thinking about what I’ve shared this morning, I keep returning to that bucket filled with water. So many of us are working hard, trying to improve our circumstances, build our futures, and accomplish the things we know we’re capable of doing. Yet we keep looking at ourselves as though we’re failing because we haven’t reached some imaginary finish line. Before you condemn yourself, look at where your energy is going. Examine the distractions, the comparisons, the endless arguments, and the habits that leave you exhausted without bringing you closer to the life you want. You may discover that you don’t need to work yourself into the ground. You may need to stop the leaks.
I want you to be careful about what you repeatedly invite into your mind. Be thoughtful about the images you consume, the arguments you entertain, the information you share, and the desires you allow to dominate your attention. Don’t assume that everything popular is good for you or that everything personalized has your best interests at heart. Technology can be useful, creative, and educational, but it can also become a source of distraction, manipulation, and unnecessary emotional pressure. You have a responsibility to examine the effects it has on your life, and you have the right to step away from anything that repeatedly undermines your peace.
I also want you to remember that the people around you are more important than the performance you maintain online. Don’t allow arguments with strangers to consume the patience you need for your family. Don’t spend so much time comparing yourself with other people that you forget to appreciate your own progress. Don’t allow a constant stream of information to replace the experiences that make life meaningful. Build something, learn something, help somebody, create something, and give yourself the chance to enjoy what you’ve accomplished. You don’t have to announce every achievement to the world for it to have value.
As for me, I’m going to continue protecting my time, working on my projects, developing my ideas, and choosing carefully where I place my attention. I know that unexpected responsibilities will arise, plans will change, and some days will be more productive than others. That’s part of being human. But I refuse to measure my entire life by the number of notifications I answer, the arguments I win, or the reactions I receive from strangers. I want my efforts to produce something meaningful, and I want to preserve the ability to recognize when I’ve done good work. I want to live deliberately rather than spend my days reacting to an endless stream of distractions.
So I want you to think about one final question: Are you really falling behind, or have you allowed too many things to pull you away from the life you’re trying to build? Sit with that question and answer it honestly. You may need to make changes in your habits, your schedule, your relationships, or the way you use technology. You may need more rest, more support, or a clearer sense of direction. Whatever the answer turns out to be, don’t surrender your future to the feeling that you’re never doing enough. Protect your peace, strengthen your discipline, and reclaim your attention. Let’s become more intentional about the way we live, more careful about what we allow to influence us, and more appreciative of the progress we make. We have lives to build, work to complete, people to love, and experiences to enjoy. Let’s stop giving away the energy we need to do those things. Much love to you all. LanceScurv out. Let’s be strong and claim our lives back. I wish you nothing but peace. On to the next one.
