The Monotonous Fever Dream of the Internet (Reprise)
And some timeless wisdom to wake us up.
Hi everyone,
Happy Tuesday! And what a Tuesday it is. I am at the height of my semester right now, and am re-releasing one of my top-viewed posts, edited slightly. Many of you are new since I wrote it in May of 2023, so it will be new to you, too. The topic feels fitting, given how horribly frenzied the news and social media is right now. I won’t be the person to ask “Did you vote?!” but I will be the person who tells you it might be a good idea to go outside barefoot at some point today, and take a break from being online. It’s possible that this is the best thing you can do for anyone, right now.
The Monotonous Fever Dream of the Internet
I’ve been deleting nearly every article that arrives in my inbox lately—ones that I would previously have enjoyed, or at least gathered useful information from. I have felt a smoldering unease with internet culture lately, exhausted by the endless stream of people trying to sell me products, convince me to adopt their opinions, or offer a fleeting sense of certitude. As it turns out, this sentiment is shared with others, and Alex Olshonsky of Deep Fix describes them aptly in his piece, “When Internet Life Feels Futile”. After reading this, for the first time in weeks, I felt satisfied, like I had just consumed something of actual value. Olshonsky writes honestly about the creeping weariness that many, it seems, are experiencing toward the onslaught of disembodied voices in our ears and on our screens.
Here’s Olshonsky: “I’m not alone in feeling like our entire online world…has become a clusterfuck of nonsense. Even more so than it already was.” The futility of most of the online world, as he says, is akin to “drown[ing] in unpolished mind-chatter starved of wisdom, yet served right on time, whatever the arbitrary marketing cadence may be…”
He goes on to offer one of his responses to this weariness: nondual meditation, an awareness practice that does not rely on thought. “To put it as simply as possible, non-conceptual awareness is when you separate awareness from thinking, which the Buddhists considered to be the sixth sense. Then, without the overlay of labels and judgments, you can directly experience the Deep Now as it is. The benefit of “stepping back” in this way is that you very quickly see that thoughts and emotions are not the center of who you are. Rather, you reside in an awake awareness…retiring the meaning-making mind that veils the radiance of existence.”
As this piece implicitly suggests, stepping back to observe the internet, as one does in nondual meditation, may be a practice that serves us better than tangling ourselves in it.
Olshonsky is onto something when it comes to approaching the modern world with ancient wisdom, like nondual meditation. While we don’t all need to start up a nondual meditation practice, we could all learn something from its principles: when we get so caught up thinking and feeling in response to what we’re reading online, we forget ourselves. It is rarely that we need more information to feel better—it is that we need to step back, observe, feel this present moment, and breathe.
I’m constantly coming to the conclusion that stepping back and observing the present moment is the answer to most anxiety and fear. It’s so…simple, seemingly. And it’s always an option.
I know I’m not alone in feeling tired by being online. We consume so much content every day, much of which is regurgitated and half-assed. Many online creators have become homogenized, parroting the talking points they’re supposed to, and even supposedly heterodox thinkers have become somewhat predictable: the hot takes they continue to churn out are lukewarm at best. Other creators succumb to audience capture, pandering to what they think their audience wants to hear, and losing sight of their morals or individuality. It’s exhausting to engage with, really. And yet we do it all day long.
During periods of feeling deeply dissatisfied by the monotonous fever dream of the internet, what I do not want or need is new content. In fact, in these moments, I tend to seek out and find solace in established wisdom—the kind that has shown itself, over time, to be timeless. I don’t need to listen to another random influencer (self-diagnosed expert or not) give a tip about how to “navigate” the craziness of the world, or what we should be thinking, doing, or caring about. Instead, I want to pick up The Untethered Soul, fall asleep to Ram Dass lectures, and listen to what the Stoic philosophers and the yogis have to say. I want to hear from the person who has been quietly practicing meditation or Tai Chi for the last three decades; who has actually been living their practices. I want to learn from people who have devoted their lives to contemplating the great questions of life: how to live well, how to suffer less, how to love people, how to go about realizing our greatest potential.
Many people who live this way, unsurprisingly, continue to arrive at many of the same conclusions to life’s questions as their predecessors. Their advice might sound something like: Relax and let go. Remember compassion. Let love guide your actions. Practice noticing your thoughts. Let go of inner disturbances, and watch your external world change.
The teachers and creators I am still interested in aren’t overly critical of the world or the people who live here. They don’t rely on assumed moral superiority, masquerading as self-awareness, to communicate their goodness. They aren’t worried about padding the lining of their art with trigger warnings, nor are they solely trying to piss off “the other side.”
The people I find worth listening to remain in their integrity: they haven’t sold out, or veered down a course that doesn’t line up with who they are. They aren’t trying to shove anything down your throat, or even asking you to take a bite—they are people who appear to be doing things they want to be doing, and living lives that, for the most part, they enjoy living. The people I continue to enjoy are authentic not because it’s trendy to be, but because it’s who they are.
We ought to be so discerning and careful of who we let our minds be influenced by. Most of the people who tell you what to do, or think, or how to get certain results, are, quite frankly, full of bologna. Instead, remember what Ram Dass would say, or whichever spiritual teacher or wise human you love to listen to. As most great teachers would remind us (and any therapist worth their salt), focus on what you have the power to change, and let the rest go, again and again. Practice being the observer of this moment, rather than getting lost in fear or anxiety. Pay attention to what feels honest, and live from this place: this is what actually matters in terms of the impact you have on the world around you.
It might be time to unsubscribe to anything in your inbox that doesn’t feel valuable, and to unfollow anyone you are uninterested in hearing from. Make some room. Then, pick up an old book, turn on a favorite movie, go outside barefoot, and pay attention to your breath. That might be the best thing you can do for anyone, right now.
Take care of yourself,
Maggie