We are living at a time when the most cliched hobbies are slowly becoming obsolete. I feel like we no longer read as much as we used to or listen to music like we did in the past. Our minds are scattered. There are too many things to be done, too many people to follow. Worst case scenario, there is always Netflix. Take a look back – when was the last time you lost track of time and read a story with an insatiable appetite? When was the last time you purposefully chose a song and listened to music? Not as a background noise or as a complement to another activity but really truly listened?
Yet we are all searching for ourselves in the crowd and noise that we have co-created. We want to find something meaningful. And we want to find it with an increasingly hopeless hunger as the options increase. That may be the reason why an advice I read in a piece the other way really stuck with me. It said, “if you don’t like the book that you’re reading, stop reading”. I remembered the kind of insidious rules we put forth for our searches. I felt once again how inclined we are to become inspectors of our inner worlds.
Skipping a song that we feel is taking too long or dropping a book that has been boring us in the first 15 pages is a simple way to be honest with ourselves. But how are we influenced by the fact that it gets easier and easier to change the things we don’t like? Do the excessive options help us see what we truly love or push us towards an ocean of anxiety in which we question our choices?