Don't Add to the Noise

Some days I wake up feeling totally irrelevant. Like no one’s listening. Like no one cares. When I’m caught in this feeling, I tend to work harder to be noticed. But it always backfires: I just feel more forgotten.

When I’m connected to my wisdom, though, I can see that the pain I’m experiencing isn’t exactly “mine”. It belongs to the six-year-old boy I once was, who still feels abandoned and invisible. If I can just notice him — with love, but also with space, separation, and quiet — I can be there for him and see that there’s much more to life than the loneliness he carries.

This simple practice of noticing pain is so powerful, but we often dismiss it. I get it. When we’re caught in pain, the idea of being an observer feels too weak, too small, to change anything. But that’s exactly the point. You CAN’T change pain from inside it. To heal, you have to find the outside of your pain. That’s where simple awareness — the ability to slip outside of whatever mind-state you’re caught in — is more powerful than any “solution”.

As I watch our nation slide into authoritarianism, it’s sad to see so many people obeying in advance. But I also worry about the people rebelling, myself included. We should certainly be resisting. But it’s important not to add to the noise, not to get into debates in the comments section, not to let outrage kick up sand in our own heads. Because when we add to the chaos, the chaos-mongers win, and we lose connection to the scared children inside, which leaves us feeling powerless, no matter how many external actions we take.

The opposite of noise isn’t silence. It’s connection. If you can connect with real humans, one conversation or act of care can cast wide ripples into the world. If you can connect with yourself, you can stay in your center and respond as an adult, not a six-year-old boy. You have to learn to slip out of chaos’ handcuffs, whenever you find yourself caught in them. I assure you: simple awareness can do for you more than all the guns in history.

Painting by Antoine Caron