It seems like we are constantly facing an avalanche of new technological developments. A few years ago, the Metaverse was touted as the next big thing. Before that, blockchain was heralded as another revolution, and 3D printing was predicted to transform manufacturing. The latest craze seems to be digital twins and self-learning robots.
Keeping up with all the strands of A.I.-related news has become nearly impossible. It feels like we might need a dictionary just to track progress—or the lack thereof. Terms like hallucination have become part of everyday vocabulary. A glossary of A.I. terms could easily approach a hundred entries, with new concepts like model collapse and mechanistic interpretability continually emerging. While progress in some areas has been spectacular—including two Nobel Prizes for AI—it’s worth noting that no one seems to have predicted this milestone.
We’re also adapting to consuming knowledge in smaller and smaller pieces—this very piece being an example. Yet sometimes, it takes a book to fully comprehend an idea. Otherwise, it’s like watching trailers without ever experiencing the full movie.
Our brains don’t function well under information overload. They need rest to do what they do best: forge new connections and create innovative ideas. So how can we maintain clarity amid the constant influx of information? How can we, to paraphrase T.S. Eliot, find the “still point” in a turning world?
One way is to pause and reflect. Acknowledge that trends and predictions will always bombard us. Learn to approach these claims with discernment. For instance, in 1960, Herb Simon—one of my intellectual heroes—predicted that within ten years, a computer would beat the world chess champion. It took three decades before Deep Blue defeated Garry Kasparov.
Similarly, Ray Kurzweil’s The Singularity is Nearer suggests that someone alive today will live to be 1,000 years old, aided by nanobots enhancing intelligence. While intriguing, such predictions remind us to maintain a critical and detached perspective.
However, pausing and thinking seems to be becoming rarer. It feels as though we’ve outsourced even the ability to disconnect. The rise of silent retreats reflects this trend, as many seek refuge from relentless stimuli.
Yet amidst the chaos, it’s crucial to return to fundamentals—enduring principles that remain relevant despite technological shifts. In engineering, for example, those who learned during the era of vacuum tubes didn’t become irrelevant with the advent of microelectronics. Foundational skills, such as thinking in systems and understanding quantitative relationships, are timeless.
If silent retreats help you disconnect, embrace them. But consider the broader challenge: the unending influx of information that bombards our minds. It’s increasingly rare to see someone walking without headphones plugged into their ears.
To cultivate true calm, we must reclaim the ability to let our brains resonate with themselves—free from external inputs. This self-reflection is key. Be intentional. Periodically disconnect. Visit museums and absorb the art without the guidance of headphones (you can use them on your second visit). Take walks and listen to the sounds of the city or nature. Take naps.
Deliberate, methodical thought—free of interference—is essential for tasks like rechecking calculations or indexing a book. But eureka moments often occur when the brain is free-associating, making unexpected connections that bypass rational gatekeeping. For this to happen, idleness is necessary.
By letting our brains idle, pieces can fall into place, and clarity can emerge. Periodic pauses help us re-center and better understand the world. Practice disconnection and re-engagement more frequently than ever before, given the relentless information avalanche.
Julio’s Perspective
Practice idleness. Perhaps in doing so, we can edge closer to Eliot’s goal of finding the still point in a turning world.
