In a world invaded by smartphones and laptops and screens, face a book or a notebook for a few hours. It might take a while but, eventually, the thoughts will come pouring.
This is you, without the sharp pings of notifications. This is you, without the endless cycle of one Netflix show after another. This is you, without the angry rants and travel vlogs and witty ads jumping at you with every click.
Good or bad, these are your thoughts. These are your hopes, your fears. These are your ideas, your sparks of genius, your dreams taking root. These are also your failures, frustrations, and all the things we run from.
We have so much technology to make the best of ourselves, and yet so little attention left for our own silence. Ironically, these devices will never leave us – as the saying goes – to our own devices.
But the silence matters.
If we can’t think clearly, how can we truly know ourselves? If we’re constantly interrupted by the next e-mail or tweet, how can we expect to understand why we feel this, why we do that, why we look for more?
If we’re constantly itching to post another Instagram story or put this up live, then how can we live in the moment undisturbed? How can we savor every fleeting second of the present and relish what’s truly important to us?
If we can’t hear our own thoughts above the noise, then how sure are we that we’re following our own command? Is the ship being steered by you – or someone else’s expectations? Is this really where you want to go?
These are age-old questions. Some not to be answered but just to be reflected on. Some meant just to keep us grounded.
The key is to think about it.
And oh, turn off all your devices – including the one you’re reading this on – while you’re at it.
