I’ve noticed another flaw in my behavior. I’ve dubbed it the “email reflex.” When I use my phone, my thumb – possessed by unholy force – gravitates to the mailbox icon. The app opens. My mindfulness melts. I simply must know if I have new mail.

Often it takes several moments to load. I stare at the screen with Jedi-like intensity, waiting for a message to materialize. What I really need is for Yoda to whack me with his cane.

Information is everywhere. It is, in fact, hard to avoid. Our senses are bombarded with pictures, emails, texts, websites, articles and sound-bites from dawn til dusk. There is a sense we must know all. Every update from the office. Every political scandal. Every hangover suffered by a Facebook friend living in San Francisco.

And we want it NOW. Nothing can wait. With gadgets galore, we stay gorged on useless tidbits and captivating images. We flip the TV to the evening news. We text our salmon dinner to half our contact list. We shoot compulsive glances at the tablet nearby. Meaningful conversation is not on the menu.

The cards are stacked against us. Companies like Apple design their toys to be habit forming. Social media sates our desire to feel accepted in the community. And television allows us to observe fellow humans without consequence.

“The moment we turn our eyes to the screen,” writes philosopher Sam Harris, “we are in a social situation that our hominid genes could not have foreseen: We can view the actions of others, along with the minutiae of their facial expressions – even to the point of making eye contact with them – without the slightest risk of being observed ourselves. […] This is voyeurism of a transcendental kind.”

It’s no wonder we design our living rooms around the tube. Lest we become tech-zombies, we need countermeasures. Enter life coach and efficiency guru Tim Ferriss:

“I’m going to propose that you develop an uncanny ability to be selectively ignorant.” Ferriss’s Low Information Diet (LID) has 3 prescriptions: ignore the media, ask if information – like an email check – is necessary and important, and don’t always finish what you start. You shouldn’t subject yourself, for example, to three grueling hours of Colin Farrell in Alexander . I learned this lesson the hard way.

The LID is useful. Once you dial down the background noise, you seem to gain several hours per day. Yet, as I’ve discovered, it’s easy to slip off the wagon. The smartphone beckons. And arbitrary rules can’t always stop us.

Our brains hate uncertainty. They want to map the future. Any unknown, like the possibility of an email or text, must be explored and put to rest. But slavishly obeying this impulse doesn’t lead to peace or happiness. Only neurosis. Maybe – in this age of information overload – some things are best left alone.

It’s okay not to know. This mantra comes from meditation teacher Joseph Goldstein. It’s okay not to know. Try saying it next time you reach for a device. It quells the craving to be constantly connected, informed, notified, and alerted. It disarms even the email reflex in mid-jab. And it gives our brains a much-needed rest.

The phrase also works for big decisions. I’ve been fretting, I must admit, over my next move. Should I go out West? Should I stay local? What can I afford? But my decision doesn’t need to be made for many days. It’s okay not to know.

And for most things, it’s definitely okay not to know. Do we really need to check email every five minutes? Why bother with the most of the news? Our attention is being thieved by all this information. Attention that could be better spent elsewhere.

“The real trouble is that [we] are all totally frustrated,” wrote Alan Watts, “for trying to please the brain is like trying to drink through your ears. Thus [we] are increasingly incapable of real pleasure, insensitive to the most acute and subtle joys of life which are in fact extremely common and simple.”

Something must be done. We cram our brains with garbage, yet it brings us little peace. Garbage in, garbage out. Perhaps we should take a step back from all this information. There is food to be tasted and trail to be hiked. I’m going to follow my own advice now.

If you liked this article, please connect on Facebook or join my email list. Or do both. Thanks.

Sources

Ferriss, Timothy. The 4-hour Work Week: Escape 9-5, Live Anywhere, and Join the New Rich. Expanded and Updated ed. Chatham: Vermilion, 2011. Print.

Harris, Sam. Waking Up: A Guide to Spirituality Without Religion. Print.

Watts, Alan. The Wisdom of Insecurity. New York: Pantheon, 1951. Print.