We live in an age where we are exposed to an incredible amount of information. Despite unprecedented access to information, I’d argue there’s a dark side: we’re losing touch with our own thoughts. I believe the lack of space to think is to blame.

Grace fills empty spaces, but it can only enter where there is a void to receive it, and it is grace itself which makes this void. - Simone Weil

I’ve always had the inclination to become great at what I do. A drive to continuously improve. Being a naturally curious person, I look everywhere for information: articles, books, videos, forums—you name it. And although I’ve learned a lot along the way, I’ve experienced its downside firsthand: my search for knowledge made me consume so much information that I never stopped to hear my own thoughts. In a way, I felt like I was drowning in a sea of information, never quite able to come up for air. I overexposed myself to information.

Is all this exposure to information bad? No, we’re in the most privileged position in history—anything you want to know is at your fingertips. Just a few decades ago, if people needed information, they had to go to a library, find a bookstore, read an encyclopedia, call someone or some other cumbersome method. Information delivery is more convenient than ever, and that is an incredible achievement of humankind.

Not only that, we also have more forms of delivery than ever before. If you’re not one for books, then you can watch a video, listen to an audiobook, read a blog and yes, even threads on X and TikTok videos count. You can find information in any medium you prefer.

Lastly, the sheer volume of information has grown tremendously. With the advent of a medium such as the internet, the threshold to share information has lowered to the point of being non-existent. In the past, you’d have to be an established name to get an essay published1, but now you can spin up a blog in minutes, or post your ideas to socials in seconds. Sharing information has never been easier.

Through these developments we can access more ideas, more conveniently than ever, and that’s a good thing—in order to grow, we need to be exposed to ideas other than our own. Whether it be factual knowledge, new perspectives, or stories, they all have the potential to stir up our existing beliefs, to transform us ever so slightly. Not all transformation can come from within.

I like to imagine the mind as a pond2, where your deepest thoughts—the original ones—reside near the bottom, like Koi carp. To see them, the surface must be crystal clear, like a mirror into your soul. External ideas are like pebbles thrown into the pond—they stir the surface and make Koi come out of hiding. However, they will only appear when the coast is clear, and the stones stop falling. Even then, we can only see them if the ripples on the surface have receded. We need space between ideas to let our thoughts emerge.

Denying yourself that space is doing yourself a disservice. Without it, you’ll never truly learn how you as an individual with unique perspectives think about something. You might mistake the ripples on the surface for the Koi. In the process, you’ll rob yourself of getting to know yourself, remaining estranged to the one person you ought to know best.

Once we’ve exposed ourselves to new ideas we need space to digest them. To make ideas our own we need to give them some time to marinate, to hold them up to what we already know, reconsider perspectives, assimilate what is useful, and disregard what is not. If we keep rushing to the next idea, we never allow our thoughts to fully form or ideas to take root.

Creating space for our thoughts allows us to scrutinize them. We can consider their validity and view them from different viewpoints. For instance, you can come up with counterarguments, or ask investigating questions to see if the idea still holds up, like with the Socratic Method3. This will deepen your understanding of the concept, hone arguments and find their breaking point.

We therefore find ourselves in a precarious balancing act: disturb the pond just enough. Once we were starved for information, limited by its availability. Now the limiting factor is our minds4. We’ve gone from a trickle of information to quench our thirst to a fire hose put to our lips. Thankfully we control the lever — somewhat at least. It does require awareness, and knowing your limits.

With information never far removed from us, and countless companies trying to get a hold of your attention, we must be vigilant. If we are not intentional about our exposure to information we run the risk of getting overwhelmed and being influenced, like a wave washing over us whilst carrying us in a direction we might not have intended. We should act and actively resist information forced upon us and choose what we let into our lives.

As for me, I’ve tuned down my exposure to new information substantially. It worked out well for me. I’m calmer, happier, and have learned to appreciate my own “voice.” I feel like I can breathe more freely, allowing myself to come up for air more often and for longer periods of time. The internet is full of strategies to create this breathing room, but for me taking a walk, journaling, and writing work wonders, as does reading fiction rather than non-fiction. Each of us is different, and you’ll have to discover what works for you, but feel free to experiment.

Make space for your thoughts. Allow them to emerge, listen to them and make them your own. For if we don’t create space for reflection, we risk passively absorbing ideas without truly understanding or owning them.

  1. Graham, P. (2004, September). The Age of the Essay. https://www.paulgraham.com/essay.html ↩

  2. This metaphor was inspired by one shared by a friend on how he imagines meditation. ↩

  3. The Socratic Method was originally a method of dialogue between individuals, but can be applied as an internal dialogue as well. I wholeheartedly recommend reading The Socratic Method by Ward Farnsworth if, like me, you enjoy this type of subject. ↩

  4. Often referred to as Information Overload. ↩