It’s 9:27 p.m. The dishes are done. The kids are (mostly) asleep. You sink into the couch, phone in one hand, remote in the other. Netflix auto-plays a trailer for some dystopian thriller you’ll forget about by morning. Instagram serves up another dopamine drip of reels, memes, and passive-aggressive virtue signaling. You scroll, you watch, you laugh a little, you feel a vague emptiness settle in behind your eyes. And then you go to bed.
What just happened?
If we’re honest, most of us don’t consume digital media because we’re seeking truth, beauty, or meaningful connection. We consume because it’s easy. Because we’re restless. Because we dread the ache of quiet. And in those moments, what we’re really doing is indulging in what I can only call mental masturbation: cheap stimulation of the mind that mimics engagement but ultimately leaves us emptier than before.
The Cheap Substitute
The metaphor holds because masturbation isn’t about intimacy. It’s about self-gratification without cost, vulnerability, or the risk of real encounter. It indulges a desire but gives nothing lasting. And when we endlessly scroll, stream, and consume without intention, we do the same to our minds and souls.
We trick ourselves into believing we’ve engaged with ideas, stories, or people when in reality, we’ve gorged on empty calories of content. The algorithms know what makes us twitch, what keeps us numbly swiping. But they don’t know what makes us whole.
Why We Do It
We do it because it’s easy, available, and it keeps us from having to feel things we’d rather avoid. Boredom. Disappointment. Loneliness. The nagging sense that maybe our lives were meant to amount to more than algorithmic consumption.
Modern life has conditioned us to fear stillness. Silence feels like failure. Empty space terrifies us. So we fill it with endless scrolling, with background noise, with the next forgettable Netflix series. Anything to avoid sitting alone in a room with our own soul or engaging in meaningful or difficult conversation with our spouse.
What It Costs Us
The cost is high.
We’re becoming people who no longer know how to dwell in mystery, endure discomfort, or hold a difficult thought without reaching for our phones. Attention spans shrink. Imagination dulls. Even our capacity for joy and wonder erodes.
We forget how to feast on real things: great stories, beautiful music, rich conversation, time outdoors, solitude with God. We trade the banquet for fast food and wonder why our hearts feel sick.
A Better Way
The good news is this: you don’t have to live like that.
You can reclaim your attention. You can reform your appetites. You can choose to be a person who reads real books, watches films that unsettle and inspire, and holds long conversations without glancing at a screen. By fasting from passive consumption, we’ll rediscover boredom as sacred ground: the birthplace of creativity, prayer, and courage.
Start small.
Read a chapter of something older than you. Watch a film that demands something from you. Take a walk without your phone. Sit in a room with no music, no podcast, no screens, and pay attention to what rises up. It might be uncomfortable at first. That’s a good sign.
Anything worth having will cost you something. Especially your attention.
Before You Go
If you’re ready to trade the numbness for something real, here are a few companions for the road:
Read
Amusing Ourselves to Death by Neil Postman
A prophetic diagnosis of how entertainment culture erodes public discourse and attention.The Shallows by Nicholas Carr
Argues that the internet is reshaping our brains and diminishing our capacity for deep, focused thinking by promoting skimming and distraction.Superbloom: How Technologies of Connection Tear Us Apart by Nicholas Carr
Explores how modern digital technologies, despite promising greater connectivity, are fragmenting attention, weakening relationships, and eroding the depth and cohesion of human experience.
The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis
A piercing, imaginative look at desire, self-deception, and the soul’s journey toward (or away from) real joy.The Tech-Wise Family by Andy Crouch
Offers practical guidance for families to reclaim control over technology, emphasizing intentional choices that prioritize relationships, wisdom, and character over digital convenience.
Watch
The Social Dilemma (Netflix)
Yes, it’s ironic. But it’s an unflinching look at how the tools we use are using us.
Practice
Digital Sabbath: one hour a day, one day a week, one week a year: no phone, no streaming, no social media. Replace it with books, long walks, unhurried meals, and conversations without screens.
Pocket Notebook Rule: Leave your phone behind in downtime moments. Carry a small notebook instead. Record thoughts, prayers, quotes, observations.
Boredom Walks: Once a week, take a walk with no headphones, no podcasts, no phone. Pay attention to the world and to what rises up inside you.
You might be surprised how quickly your soul remembers what it’s like to feel alive.
The Invitation
So much of our modern restlessness isn’t about exhaustion. It’s about starvation.
We weren’t made to subsist on fragments of content and flickers of stimulation. We were made to behold, to wonder, to wrestle with mystery, and to dwell in places deep and wide enough to stretch the soul.
The next time you feel the urge to reach for “My Precious”, to open the app, to numb the ache, pause.
Ask yourself:
What am I actually hungry for right now?
Then, give your mind and heart something real. A beautiful story. A difficult question. A long walk. A moment of silence. Anything that costs a little and rewards much.
Let’s leave the numbness behind. There’s a better way to be human.
Spot on Ted. It distracts us from truly living and engaging in relationship.
So good, so inspiring.