Jeremy Mohler

Writer and meditation teacher

Using social media mindfully is almost impossible — but here’s how to try

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There’s some truth to the sense that social media can feel like work.

Back in the 1970s, the communication researcher Dallas Smythe said that television doesn’t sell entertainment to the audience — it sells the audience to advertisers.

Just by watching television — and posting, liking, tweeting, etc. — we “work.” As in, we do what counts as work in a capitalist society: we produce something to be sold, in this case our attention.

That’s Silicon Valley’s entire business model: capturing our attention — and information — and turning it into a commodity.

Case in point: 98 percent of Facebook’s $16.9 billion in revenue during the last three months of 2018 came from advertising. A whopping 93 percent of that came from advertising on their mobile app.

No wonder we’re glued to our phones. Facebook CEO Mark Zuckerberg’s $400 grey t-shirts depend on it.

That’s all to say that using social media in a mindful way is almost impossible. A multibillion-dollar industry is invested in trying to distract you in increasingly seductive ways. Hell, a whole lifestyle is — Silicon Valley is reshaping the global economy.

Yet, short of a mass of people demanding that social media be a public good operated by and for the people, not profit, you should try. You’ll feel less scattered, restless, and stressed out because of it. You’ll also have a little more time for all that makes a good life off the screen: friends, new experiences, love, music, community, politics, etc.

What does a mindful relationship to Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, etc., look like?

It’s not about deleting apps, unfollowing toxic people, knowing the sources of the news you consume, etc. — though those can be useful tactics.

It’s about being in a mindful state before you even pick up the phone.

Then, when you find yourself unconsciously scrolling Instagram, you’ll almost automatically follow the four steps of mindfulness: notice that you’re glued to the screen, accept that you’ve lost control, let go of what you’re thinking, and open up to what you’re feeling in the present moment.

These happen to be the four “muscles” in the mind strengthened by regular mindfulness meditation. When a story about the past or future sweeps your mind away, the practice is to notice, accept, let go, and open up. And then do it again and again and again.

Noticing is seeing that you’re lost in thought. Accepting is avoiding the tendency to criticize yourself for not doing meditation “right.” Letting go is releasing the story. Opening up is noticing the feelings, sounds, smells, and tastes of the present moment, right here, right now.

The more you strengthen these “muscles,” the more you’ll be able to put down the phone in the moments that need your attention. The more you’ll be able to stay engaged on date night with your wife. The more you’ll be able to fully show up for your children. The more you’ll be able to listen to the voice inside of you that you know is telling the truth—about your job, relationship, etc.

Remember, it’s not your fault you’re almost always distracted. Your attention is a commodity in capitalism. Someone is selling it to someone else, and they’re constantly fighting for more of it, even while you’re on the clock working for someone else.

Want to be more mindful?

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Listen to the podcast version

I talked about this post on my podcast, Meditation for the 99%. Listen to it on Apple Podcasts, Google Play, and everywhere podcasts are available. Stream this episode below.

Podcast: Play in new window | Download

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Beating yourself up inside isn’t helping

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Bring to mind a habit that you’d like to change. One that you often do unconsciously, without choice. It could be drinking, overeating, checking Facebook, or how you treat someone you love.

Really visualize yourself doing it. Imagine the sights, smells, tastes, and sounds.

How do you feel, right now, about this image of yourself pouring another glass of wine, or whatever it’s doing?

Odds are you’re feeling judgment, looking down on yourself.

It’s intuitive to think that being hard on yourself will help you stop a certain behavior. But self-judgment actually helps lock us into our habitual patterns.

I’m not talking rational thinking after the fact, like I need to stop drinking so much to be a better father. That’s very likely true. I’m talking about in the moment when we start following the habit.

Pouring another glass of wine or scrolling through Facebook is how we distract ourselves from an emotion we don’t want to feel, whether it’s restlessness, fear, loneliness, or anger. Self-judgment is a story that we add on top — it further distracts us from being present, open, and fully alive.

To break the cycle, what we really need is self-compassion. American Buddhist teacher Pema Chödrön calls it “unconditional acceptance of ourselves.” Once we stop being so hard on ourselves, we can start to implement strategies and tactics to change the habit we don’t like.

First, we need mindfulness, which gives us those rare openings to notice our self-judgment.

During a recent meditation retreat I learned just how fidgety and restless I can get when I can’t work on something or read or drive somewhere.

One of the great things about meditation retreats is that they take away all the ways you usually distract yourself.

Most of us spend our days jumping from one thing to the next, from breakfast to work to vegging out watching Netflix. We even fill the spaces in between — standing in line, sitting on the toilet, etc. — with email or Instagram or talking on the phone.

Retreat is no phone, no work, no books, no talking — nothing but meditation, sleep, and three meals a day.

This gives you the rare opportunity to observe rather than ignore what’s going on inside. What do you do with nowhere to be and nothing to do? What does your mind do when you’re bored? Who are you when you’re not a 3rd grade teacher or an app designer or a mother? Who are you when making money isn’t a priority?

The first morning on retreat, I sat in the kitchen downing cup after cup of coffee. I’m a caffeine addict, for sure, but I usually have one cup in the morning. Three cups in and my restlessness had morphed into anxiety with a piercing headache.

The next morning after my usual one cup, I decided to stay put and watch the restlessness. I felt a sort-of tunnel vision set in. My breath shortened. My shoulders and jaw tensed up. My mind thought, “A cup of coffee would be nice.”

Then there was a split second of self-judgment. I never would’ve seen it if I hadn’t slowed down to watch. A voice inside of me was talking as though I were someone else: there he goes again. He shouldn’t want more coffee. Look at him. He’s weak!

Self-judgment usually comes as a thought that includes the words should or shouldn’t, which exposes why it’s so toxic: we’re telling ourselves we’re not good enough. And when we don’t feel good enough, we lose self-esteem, becoming more prone to reacting out of habit rather than responding out of choice.

After about ten seconds, the voice faded and the urge fell away. My body relaxed and I began to think about whether I should use the bathroom before the next meditation period.

I’m still addicted to coffee, but this little “win” has given me the confidence to start to dial back my daily intake. Who knows what I’ll be able to take on next?

Ready to get serious about meditation?

Sign up for my weekly email on how to be mindful about the stuff that matters most — work, relationships, and, especially, politics.

Listen to the podcast version

I talked about this post on my podcast, Meditation for the 99%. Listen to it on Apple Podcasts, Google Play, and everywhere podcasts are available. Stream this episode below.

Podcast: Play in new window | Download

Subscribe: Apple Podcasts | Android | Google Podcasts | RSS | More

Mindfulness is helping me finally give myself permission to relax

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I call it “striving.” I’ve heard others call it hustling, hard work, the grind, “just the way things are.”

It’s my mind’s default mode, the part of my personality that almost always jumps in the driver’s seat and takes the wheel.

On good days, it shows up as an exact and tidy to-do list, with just enough time to knock out each task one by one.

I wake up to my first alarm, roll out of bed, stretch, meditate, scramble eggs that look like they’re on a Michelin-starred chef’s Instagram, and get to writing. I finish work just before dinner and spend the evening relaxing with a book or enjoying time with my girlfriend.

Most days it gives me a gnawing sense of incompleteness, a lack of something, as if I’ve got unfinished business. It feels like I’m running from one thing to the next, like I’m leaning out of the present moment and into the future — like I need to strive to catch up.

Who or what am I trying to catch? I have no idea.

I’m Sisyphus, the ancient Greek king punished by being forced to roll a rock up a hill over and over again for eternity. I’m exhausted and don’t want to work anymore.

But ,  working more is the only way I’ll feel whole, accomplished, complete, says the striving part of me.

So, I start pushing the rock again, only to soon lose interest and get distracted. I pour another cup of coffee, pick up my phone and scroll through Instagram, turn on Netflix — anything to escape feeling the incompleteness.

(If striving isn’t resonating with you, think about what part of your personality takes the lead when you’re by yourself for a long period of time. Or ask yourself, what story do I most often tell myself when I feel anxiety?)

There are many reasons for my tendency to strive.

As a kid, I was young for my grade level, which often made me feel behind.

My parents are solidly middle class, having achieved a decent standard of living by working rather than hiring others to work for them.

I’ve been marinating in capitalist ideology my entire life, which manufactures a sense of scarcity and encourages individual rather than collective ways of achieving abundance. Capitalism is all I know — I’ve been cut off from the wisdom of tens of thousands of years of human experience with other sorts of relationships to each other and nature.

But let’s set the reasons why to the side for now.

What has helped me have more of those good days recently is that I’m changing the way I relate to my striving.

I’ve started noticing when I’m telling myself a story about being behind and needing to catch up. That’s what mindfulness is: “awareness that arises through paying attention, on purpose, in the present moment, non-judgmentally,” as scientist Jon Kabat Zinn describes it. (I’ll explain “non-judgmentally” in a moment. It’s the most important part of that definition.)

Mindfulness is the first step to changing any habit or pattern.

You must first notice the story you’re telling yourself in the moment. Then — as meditation teaches — you let go of the story and bring your attention to the sensations of your breath, how your body feels, and the sounds around you. You come back to what’s happening right here, right now.

It’s not about ignoring the stories by shooing them away. It’s about seeing if you can stay with the bodily sensations that the stories bring with them. Can you simply feel the burning in your chest or clench in your stomach without following the story?

If you stay put, usually, the storm will pass.

Sometimes it doesn’t pass. This is where non-judgment, sometimes called “self-compassion,” is crucial. You’re bound to be swept away by the story most of the time. You’ve spent years habitually following your mind’s every whim.

Sometimes it doesn’t pass. This is where non-judgment is crucial. You might’ve heard it described as “self-compassion.”

You’re bound to be swept away by the story most of the time. You’ve spent years habitually following your mind’s every whim. The stories are seductive — you created them, likely at an early age, in an effort to protect yourself. They also are reinforced by a violent, individualistic society. You’re not going to learn how to relate to them differently overnight.

So, be easy on yourself as you begin to explore the stories that hang around in the background of your life. Start by practicing the first step: simply noticing when they appear.

The good news: just a small tweak to how you relate to the part of yourself that believes a particular story can go a long way in changing your life.

As I’ve started to notice when I’m believing the striving story, I’ve started to let myself fully relax for the first time. In the past, it took the presence of someone else or alcohol or drugs or a great book or movie. The conditions had to be just right, which made it rare.

Now, if I’m particularly mindful, I can let go of the story like when I let go of thoughts during meditation. Sometimes, this little bit of space allows me to take my foot off the gas and not feel the need to be somewhere else doing my “unfinished business.”

Ready to get serious about meditation?

Sign up for my weekly email on how to be mindful about the stuff that matters most — work, relationships, and, especially, politics.

Photo credit: Ichiban Yada