Bankrupt, on the inside

A single thought seems insignificant, just a moment in time. A single thought, in a single second, isn’t enough to shape the course of a life. A lone snowflake landing on the ground, easily overlooked.

But thoughts, when repeated (consciously or unconsciously) have a remarkable way of creating patterns. They become less lone-snowflake and more blanket-of-snow covering everything and changing the landscape of your interior world.

The power of thoughts lies not in their individual impact but in the collective influence they have, shaping our attitudes and behaviors.

It seems we’re building a world with less and less time for examining our thinking. The quiet patterns and whispers of our inner lives often get lost, drowned out by the constant flood of outside distractions. It's like the entire world has been swept into a hurricane of information, caught in the whirlwind of busyness and people are feeling spiritually empty, with their own thoughts and feelings neglected.

We’re bankrupt, bankrupt on the inside. Lackluster in the care of our interior lives.

How can we make space to pay attention to our quiet thoughts, or the Still Small Voice, if we aren’t ever… quiet?

Popular culture, social media, and the demand for constant engagement leaves us feeling drained and disconnected from our inner selves. The incessant noise drowns out the space for self-reflection and the opportunity to confront our internal bankruptcies.

Cultivating a rich interior life requires intentional effort. Leaning into built in moments of pause and solitude—or creating those moments— allows us to tune into our thoughts and thinking patterns.

It feels like most of the world is waiting to be told what to think about next, like next, do next. The constant need for direction and redirection keeps us eternally over-stimulated.

I think part of this has to do with the way we consume content—  it influences our desires and interests.

This doesn’t account for the whole of the problem, but something that comes to mind for me is… in 2023, we’re watching films, constantly. Long ones, yes, but also short ones. All. day. long. If you’re scrolling, you’re going to find little films everywhere. Dancing, talking, singing, teaching, making you laugh, making you cry, the little films don’t end. 

You know what isn’t interesting to watch?

Someone sitting in quiet reflection.

Prayer.

Someone on a couch in the early morning hours, journal or book in hand.

The calm, boring, or repetitive moments of mothering.

These subjects don’t make interesting little movies. That’s why you won’t find them much, if at all, in the films you consume.

How can you desire something you have no space for and never see practiced?

That’s something I love about photographs compared to film. Photographs can offer us moments of quiet contemplation. Both to look upon… and to have as we enjoy, or examine, them. 

Photographs provide space for appreciation and reflection. A moment of stillness.

Obviously, looking at beautiful photos is not a solution to our lackluster attention to our inner lives, but they can serve as little buffers to slow us down, bring us back to the present.

I think if we ask: how can we make space in the noise to pay more attention our inner lives? We’d find learning to embrace the pause, even with the content we consume, is a good start. More beautiful, artful photographs, less trending, meaningless video content.

While the world overlooks the quieter moments, how can you choose to be changed by silence?

What would change in your life if the content you consumed didn’t always point you to be doing more, but perhaps pointed you to less, pulled you into the present, stilled your racing mind, reminded you to pause?

I've come to embrace the gift of quietude, slowing down even in the way I am consuming content online.

And this quiet is making it possible for me to notice: notice the thoughts that I'm having, notice the affect they have as they create patterns in my interior life.

As a parent, I recognize the power of leading by example. I hope my example of trying, even though I often fail, is a gift to my children.

I hope my work in trying to embrace more awareness and reflection serves as a guide for them as they grow up and begin to navigate the noise of the world too.

I hope they really get to see, up close, our lives enriched by paying attention to our thoughts, and see the work and reward of living presently and attuned to the inside.