Little Rays of Hope
The relentless subtlety of our calling
I was at the university gym the other day (one of the perks of being an emeritus faculty member is that I still have access to the gym and a deeply discounted faculty plan), and I overheard a conversation between two students working at the front desk. One of them was reading a book by philosopher and economist, Adam Smith. It wasn’t anything about Smith or philosophy that got my attention, but why one of the students was reading it:
“Yeah, it’s a really old book. The language is, like, really outdated. But it’s still interesting.”
“Are you reading it for a class?”
“No. Just reading it for me.”
“Wow! Why?”
“Because I’m on my phone too much. So now I carry a book around with me. When I’m about to grab my phone to waste time and scroll, I read instead.”
“That’s really cool.”
To hear this person — he couldn’t have been more than 20 — being so self aware and carrying around a book to offset his phone time made me smile. I know it’s an old cliche to say that this somehow restored my faith in humanity, bit it was definitely something that went in a “win” column for me. I have no idea what this kid’s politics were, nor if he was actually getting anything deeper from the book, but his self-awareness and honesty felt like a ray of sunshine in a darkening world.
As I walked toward the locker room, their conversation faded, but the last remaining snippets I heard were about how he could feel his brain “getting soft,” and that it was his way of reclaiming some of his concentration. I wondered what, exactly, it was that led him to his conclusion and his attempt to regain his attention-span. Whether he figured it out on his own, or was inspired by someone else or something he (ironically) saw on social media or online, the fact that he followed through and was making it a habit was a pretty amazing feat of self-discipline. I plan on asking him about it the next time I see him.
Dovetailing with what I discussed in my previous post, I’m always fascinated with those epiphanies when we “wake up” to certain things regarding our health and wellbeing, and how subtle they can be. Waking up can often be initiated and catalyzed by simple, easy things, that still can have a profound effect on our daily lives. Perhaps it’s something we realize about routines that are no longer serving us — or were never serving us at all, like that moment we realize that the glass of wine (or two) after a long day really isn’t bring us the relaxation we crave; or that weed really isn’t making us more creative (or interesting).
Maybe it’s the moment we give up coffee or sugar, or decide to not engage trolls in the comments.
Or, on the flip side, perhaps it’s the moment we start a healthy habit, like taking a walk or exercising. Or when we decide that it’s time to finally start yoga or tai chi or qigong.
In my experience, the most profound healthy changes I’ve made in my life didn’t come with some kind of existential crisis. Instead, it started with a glimmer of an idea that caused me to do one small thing differently, or that little voice that made me pause and try a different path. The biggest shifts start with very subtle cues and inspirations.
Unfortunately, those subtle hints and little voices are the first things to be drowned out when we’re perpetually distracted by screens, streams, and scrolls. And right now, the “flood the zone” strategy of neofascism and Christian nationalism in the US is designed to not only drown out the voice of our higher selves, but it’s also designed to distract us from the small, inspiring moments of insight, clarity, and intelligence that can give us hope … and joy.
It’s that little voice, and those little moments of inspiration that cause us to do the scary thing; or sign up for something that we know will bring us restorative rest and fill our cups. Think about the most courageous thing you’ve done, or the most dramatic turnaround you’ve had in your life. Chances are it all started with that small, quiet, subtle feeling that you followed, which compounded into bigger actions.
That’s what we’re drowning out with all the distraction we inadvertently invite into our lives. A moment of quiet can allow that voice — that feeling — to emerge. I wonder what that student at the gym will “hear” in the quiet of his reading. Even if it’s not from the content itself, what message will whisper through the peace of reading his book?
What is each of us doing to bring forward that voice, to make room for inspiration, wonder, and joy? In the silence or in the white noise that hangs just out of the reach of our doomscrolls is the opportunity for us to make that one little shift, and perhaps even inspire us to go above and beyond it. Perhaps that voice we hear becomes a calling.
Think of what it’s like to wake up on your own accord. This is probably a rare occurrence for most. But at some point, each of us has had the good fortune to wake up gently, to the morning light, or the sound of birds, or the gentle stirring of a partner next to us. These are the kinds of awakenings we need to be sensitive to.
Awakening can be relentlessly subtle; but in order to follow it — to follow the calling that ensues — we need to be able to hear it first. We need to be able to feel it.