The Matrix of Snow That Lives in Your Pocket

Last week I went to see my therapist about meds for my ADD. We talked about some of my fears around side effects, and then we moved on to what it is I'm trying to get out of it. What it is that I need to change?

After some back and forth exchange, she said something that caught my ear. One of those clarifying moments that every psychologist looks for in their patients; the pulling back of the curtain, the lightbulb going off, the fog dissipating; she said "I hope that it quiets the buzz." This sentence doesn't have much coherence out of context, but I immediately understood.

Some of us remember the look, the sound, the feeling of being in a room with TV snow. An infinite and indiscernible pattern of flashing pixels, accompanied by an undying front of sound like rushing air, or falling water. In film, TV snow shows up in scenes as a symbol of tension, isolation, uncertainty, and lack of control or agency over the situation. (Poltergeist, The Ring, and Get Out come to mind immediately.) But where does this sense of being out of control come from?

TV snow exists inherently because of a disconnect. A problem with video and audio input being received by the monitor. It happens unexpectedly, and therefore represents a novel, quiet moment that you are presented with, without choosing to be. I remember being fascinated with TV snow as a kid. It was something I was always warned about looking at for too long, and of course the forbidden nature made it all the more enticing. There were times where I'd get so wrapped up in trying to track specific black pixels in their scattered trip across a sea of white, that all other sounds faded from my focus. My mind disconnected from its agency over choosing what to focus on and think about, in favor of the continual, novel stimulus of the matrix of snow in front of me. The screen had "quieted my buzz."

Today's western world is defined by its fast pace. Advancements in all categories, from fitness, to fashion, to technology, all come without warning, and it seems that most developments only last in the headlines for an hour or two before they're overtaken by the next big thing. We exist in a space being constantly bombarded with novel stimuli. And the continued exposure to these stimuli makes it progressively harder, to exercise agency over your attention. Sometimes living through a day feels like sleepwalking, thoughtlessly taking in and reacting to whatever the environment happens to dish out. And when it's quiet?

We reach in our pocket.

The human mind is evolved to crave familiarity. So, if the roar of the digital world becomes loud enough that the world outside feels like a shadow of reality, the mind will crave it; seek it out. And unlike trekking through the forest for berries back in the day, the pattern of the snow matrix isn't hard to find. The internet is everywhere. And it never represents one algorithm of thought. It represents all of them, all at once, stretching in infinite directions impossible for one mind to ever completely explore. It's so easy to get lost in the compact infinity inside your pocket, and forget the finite and physical which exists in front of you. It may even feel boring, sitting in that stillness, as you become consciously aware of the disconnect you feel, not reaching in your pocket.

I wonder...

what just a few more moments.....

of stillness........

could bring.

Remember:

There is beauty in the finite.

In part, because you have the agency, to choose which finite things to focus on.