Dating : ARE WE WHAT WE READ?

I recently read an article in the Guardian about a journalist who set himself a challenge of not reading any headlines in the news for a month. The notion of whether it would make him feel better about the world? I’m sure most of us have all thought about this to some degree at least. Maybe not news headlines, but wordy stuff. Alluring little crumbs. Information trails leading to shiny revelations waiting to be plucked from the virtual tree of knowledge. I’m not insinuating the fall of man here, I’m just pointing out our insatiable desire for media consumption. Just as the chickens are being fattened for demand, so too is the world wide web. But just like the journalist points out, more doesn’t necessarily make you smarter.

There’s a guy I work with who has a fancy job title. One which I still don’t understand entirely, but goes well with small talk and swirling a single malt at an after-work soiree. What I do know is that every night he finds the time to read every hi-techy website and geek zine there is. Hoovering up as much data as possible. He then pitches up to every meeting mouthing off what’s been done already along with smarmy anecdotes of where the world is moving next. I personally don’t find this guy insightful at all. In fact, I find him overly paid and annoying. I know I am to love my neighbour, but I’m being honest. I’m digging deep here, I promise.

The thing is, there’s an inherent beauty to naivety. I’m not suggesting everyone puts down their books. Think for a second, about any child that you may know. Niece, nephew, son, daughter, neighbour, grandchild. There’s a wonderful innocence. An inquisitive mind. A zest for exploration. It’s those qualities, even in adults, that can be snuffed in an instant from overloading one’s mind. The guy at work doesn’t bring the possibility to the table, he brings a puffed ego. A head full of knowledge that isn’t useful, but destructive. Uninspiring clutter.

I want to know what’s happening in the world, but I don’t want to know everything all at once. Sometimes I want to get there on my own, fumbling my way like a kid on a floor piecing toys together. That’s the best part.

Switching off sometimes helps you to be switched on.