Making sense of what is going on in the world is truly challenging for many of us. Distinguishing between what is narrative and what is fact is becoming almost impossible. What remains undeniable, however, is that human suffering is real, regardless of our ideological stance.

One of the most important capacities we have is attention. Yet attention can easily be pulled in different directions, so understanding a little about how our minds work can be helpful.

Neurologist Rick Hanson has described the brain as being like Teflon for good news but Velcro for bad: negative experiences stick while positive ones pass by quickly. This bias developed as a primal survival strategy. Knowing what is negative or threatening, and knowing it fast, may have helped our ancestors survive. Of course, we also need to notice what is good and safe, but negative information holds our attention much more persistently.

We live with a relentless flow of information. Never before have humans had to process so much so quickly. Even ordinary activities, such as driving in a busy town, require us to track large quantities of data: other vehicles, traffic lights, variable speed limits, speed cameras, pedestrians, lane choices, and road signs. Our brains were designed to cope with stress like this in short bursts—escaping saber-toothed tigers for example—but the stressors today are chronic and systemic. Many of us wake up to be instantly bombarded when we habitually reach for our smartphones.

Digital media also encourages patterns of seeking quick dopamine hits. The next video or article can feel as though it might offer a moment of clarity or satisfaction, yet the cycle continues without lasting relief, and we keep scrolling. News feeds and updates can become loops that seldom deliver lasting neurological satisfaction or resolution.

The internet has changed how we access real‑time information. We now hear directly from people living through events that we once learned about only from major broadcasters after the fact. At the same time, the sheer volume of information means we retain less, and experience a sense of lost time with little to show.

Add to this the numbing effects of decades of hyper-violent and hyper-sexual imagery in media and video games. Ironically, consensual sensuality is often more strictly regulated than on‑screen violence. All of this contributes to a numbing process, in which we become accustomed to ever‑more intense visual stimuli.

An old British saying, from the days when fish and chips were wrapped in newspaper, was that today’s news is tomorrow’s chip paper. What dominates headlines one day can be almost irrelevant 24 hours later. This speaks to shrinking attention spans and the search for bigger headlines. Why are we outraged by some suffering and indifferent to other suffering? Why do we care about one thing but not another? Before we know it, we have moved on to the next big thing. 

Events such as 9/11, the global financial crisis, the Arab Spring, the Syrian and Yemeni wars, ISIS, the Afghanistan and Myanmar crises, the Russia–Ukraine war, pandemics and lockdowns, Brexit, vaccines, extreme weather, have all dominated headlines at different times. But these are not merely headlines; they are ongoing realities in people’s lives. Lately, the Epstein files have swung the spotlight on victims whose voices have been ignored for decades, and, more recently still, the waging of war on Iran

For those who remain impassioned about certain issues, this can sometimes feel isolating. When opinions are formed from fast-moving news feeds rather than lived experience, it becomes easy to simplify complex situations or move on before understanding them fully.

The challenge, then, is finding ways to remain aware without becoming overwhelmed. In Buddhist practice, there is an emphasis on being mindful of impermanence, and understanding how our attention can be steadied through conscious awareness. Noticing impermanence loosens urgency, tracing dependent origination reveals how reactions arise, and cultivating maitri redirects our focus from the next spectacle to mindfulness, turning our attention into the agency to relieve suffering rather than amplify it.

We might begin simply. Sit for a moment and breathe. Notice the pull on our attention toward the next headline or the urge to scroll. Recognize that this impulse is conditioned, that it arises from causes and passes away. Let that recognition soften the grip of urgency. Allow attention to settle on the body for a few breaths, then widen it to include the suffering we see in the world and the everyday kindnesses that also exist. 

From here, we can offer a brief wish of well‑being—for ourselves and for others—and let that wish guide one small, steady action today.

It’s easy to lose sight of the good, yet most people are capable of great kindness. Many people would rush toward danger to help someone in need. 

Remembering this does not mean forgetting yesterday’s news. It means holding our attention with care, so that we don’t succumb to distraction or close our eyes, but remain present with compassion and wise action.

Related features from BDG

When the Sh*t Hits the Fan, Make Art
The Liminal Year: Compassion at the Tipping Point
A Buddhist Response to Global Unrest

More from Silk Alchemy by Nachaya Campbell-Allen