Too Much Information

There’s a famous Borges story about mapmakers who are so obsessed with detail that they produce a map of an empire at a 1:1 scale, covering the entire territory. Later generations find this gigantic map useless and abandon it.

That map feels like a metaphor for our age. As data becomes abundant and accessible, it often doesn’t clarify the world. In many ways, it obscures it.

Companies optimize for productivity, growth, and options, yet lose sight of their impact on the planet.

Lovers learn about attachment styles and red flags, yet avoid honest, direct conversations.

People move from podcast to podcast, framework to framework, refining how they think about themselves, yet never take the actions that would make them happy.

Too much information doesn’t just overwhelm us. It cuts us off from what matters. It blocks our hearts.

There’s a passage where the Buddha says, “What I could teach is greater than all the leaves in this forest.” Then he picks up a handful and continues: “Yet what I teach fits in the palm of my hand.”

That handful of leaves is the truth that suffering comes from clinging: the mind’s attempt to hold on to what cannot be held.

We cling not just to possessions, but to identities, outcomes, and interpretations. The version of your partner you wish were real. The version of yourself you think you need to become.

When we cling, we don’t just gather information. We use it to tighten our squeeze on life. This is why more knowledge often brings disempowerment.

If we want to be happy, we need to choose what we look at and prioritize noticing clinging.

Right now, for example, where are you tightening? Your jaw? Your chest? Your breath? What thoughts keep looping? What would it feel like to let go, even slightly?

You don’t need more information. You need attention to your actions, to your thoughts, to the subtle gripping that’s killing your aliveness.

Edward Hopper, "Early Sunday Morning" (1930)