Let us contemplate the nature of our engagement with text and thought. Imagine, if you will, that you are a thinker, yet in this moment, you are not thinking but merely reading. The words you now absorb are, in essence, an extension of my will, guiding your thoughts through this text. Do you feel powerless under this influence?
Reflect on the prevalence of this phenomenon: nowhere is it more evident than in the waiting rooms of restaurants. Observe parents and children, their gaze fixed upon a device, passively consuming whatever appears on their screens. They choose this over the simple act of turning their heads to converse with one another. We forge stronger connections with unseen strangers than with those in our immediate presence. Enclosed within our digital confines, we forsake the exploration of thought, preferring the fleeting pleasure of dopamine over the labor of contemplation.
It is often posited that language is a prerequisite for thought. Yet, how much language is necessary to facilitate true thinking? Can any arbitrary language suffice, or are some more conducive to thought than others? Might there be a sequence of words that optimizes thought, eliminating those of minimal value? Consider the matter of compression: you do not retain every word I write, and thus my thoughts, once entering your mind, are not preserved in their entirety. They are transformed through paraphrase, a mere translation of thought, and in this process, the ownership of these thoughts becomes ambiguous.
As a consequence of our diminished capacity for independent thought, we find ourselves unable to solve problems effectively. We do not ponder the existence of aliens with our own minds; instead, we passively accept the narratives constructed by others, lacking critical analysis.
I now return to you the time you would spend on a lengthier discourse. Use it to engage in quiet reflection, free from the influence of devices.Â