Waiting rooms used to be true oases for reading. Arranged on coffee tables or piled on baskets in the corner of the room, it was always possible to find some type of reading offered to the patient. The choice was vast: from old magazines, information leaflets and even, in some cases, comic books. I have used all of these items at some point of my life, but my favorite way to wait for my turn at a doctor or dentist appointment has always been to use a book brought from home.

At the moment, I am reading the fourth volume of In Search of Lost Time, by Marcel Proust in a big, heavy edition and every time I leave the house I think about whether or not it is really worth carrying it in my bag. That day I had an appointment with a doctor who usually has a full office, so I thought it would be worth carrying the extra weight to catch up on my reading. It did not take long for me to realize I was wrong

Firstly, I reached into my bag to pick up the heavy volume. The weight of it was somehow comforting – a physical reminder of the vast, intricate world that awaited me within its pages, but I soon realized that the serene reading experience I craved could no longer be replicated and the reason was quite simple:smartphones. They turned reading in the waiting room into a journey of its own, amidst people frantically sending and receiving text messages (without bothering to turn off the sound of the keys first) and audio messages. Headphones? Of course not! Afteral, why bother?

The naturalization of the lack of education represented by the neurotic way in which people interact with their smartphones seems to me to be a gigantic loss of civilization and this is also reflected in the way common spaces (such as office waiting rooms) are divided. It often feels as though individuals are making a concerted effort to ignore one another, further emphasizing the disconnection and alienation that permeate modern social interactions.

In the fast-paced and technologically driven world we live in, it is becoming increasingly common to observe individuals engrossed in their own digital worlds, often at the expense of meaningful face-to-face interactions. The pervasiveness of technology in our daily lives has undoubtedly revolutionized the way we communicate and connect, yet it has also led to a noticeable shift in how we interact with one another.

The allure of constant connectivity through social media, messaging apps, and digital entertainment has created a paradoxical situation where we are simultaneously more connected and yet more disconnected than ever before. This begs the question: How can we bridge the gap between the virtual and the real, fostering genuine human connections while navigating the influence of technology on our shared spaces?

The overuse of technology in everyday life has indeed sparked a debate that often draws parallels to nostalgia, portrayed as an idyllic yearning for an “analogous paradise” of the past. While it is undeniable that technology has brought about numerous positive impacts, it is equally undeniable that it has led to the loss of certain elements, including the decline of small reading retreats.

This shift in our lifestyles has prompted reflections on the trade-offs involved in our increasing reliance on technology and the potential consequences for facets of life that were once cherished, such as quality, silent time.

By disregarding the importance of silence in our lives, we avoid experiencing moments of introspection, which are fundamental to the human psyche. For those who work with the arts, the loss is even greater, as every creation goes through a moment of introspective observation and needs silence to flourish.

Silence provides a sanctuary for the mind to wander freely, making room for creative thoughts to germinate and grow. It is within the tranquil embrace of silence that artists find the inspiration to breathe life into their creations, crafting symphonies, paintings, and prose with unparalleled depth and emotion.

In the absence of silence, the frantic noise of the world drowns out the delicate whispers of creativity, stifling its evolution and robbing it of its true potential. Therefore, embracing silence is not merely a choice, but a necessity for those who seek to nurture the boundless expanse of their artistic expression.

For the human spirit, silence serves as a haven amidst the bustling cacophony of life, offering a moment of respite, reflection, and restoration. It is in these silent interludes that we decipher the intricate complexities of our existence, finding solace in the tranquil whispers of our innermost thoughts.

In essence, silence is not the absence of sound, but rather the presence of infinite possibilities waiting to be explored and unraveled. It is the canvas upon which the human soul paints its most profound revelations and unveils the truth that lies at the core of our being, paving the way for self-discovery. An experience that no app can provide.

Be seeing you!

G.F.

The Girl Code is the tenth episode of The Simpsons 27th season. Its first segment holds a delightful scene at Springfield Elementary:

Principal Skinner: “Welcome to computer coding class, which, uh, replaces our last educational fad -mindfulness. Did anyone ever figure out what that was?”

Class: “Uh… Uh… Uh…”

Milhouse: “Uh, shutting up?”

Principal Skinner: “Sure. Why not?”

I just love the definition of mindfulness as ‘be quiet’ because it is impossible to argue with. The episode came right to my mind, when I heard about J.O.M.O.

Oh no, another hipster acronym? Probably, but this one might interest you for the Joy of Missing Out may be a form of liberation.

Do not worry, we are not talking about happiness through alienation (never worked for me), but the ability we have, but which we increasingly give up, to enjoy the here and now. that is, it is mindfulness with a touch of happiness.

You not only do not do stuff, you choose not to do them! I have already written about the right not to do things, which sometimes seems like a taboo. Well, J.O.M.O. is not about defending a right. It is about having a choice. What kind of choices? All kinds, from staying informed but not watching all the news (is it just me?).

It has also to do with not feeling pressured to watch all the series and, instead, rewatch an old movie or maybe go back ten pages in the book I am reading, just for the pleasure of rereading a passage.

The way I see it, J.O.M.O. has mainly to do with knowing what your priorities are and recognizing that for every door we open, several others remain closed. It is not possible to do everything, all the time, and this is not easy for me to recognize.

I am usually that person who is constantly applying for calls, while looking for gigs in the summer and (why not?) filling out forms for artistic residencies during the winter. Not to mention the “almost finished” article that the magazine asked me to write . .. last year. In short: I am the one who tries to open all the doors or at least peek through the keyhole.

As much as I love what I do, it is always necessary to know how to put limits on the to-do list. After all, not even the most organized of the agendas can change the fact that there are only twenty-four hours in a day, regardless of how many activities you schedule to perform.

As much as “overcoming internal challenges” is a frequently repeated subject nowadays, there are times when the best thing to do is to embrace external limits and invite them to dance.

Be seeing you!

G.F.