The pull of notifications
It can happen without us quite noticing. A small sound. A vibration. A little light on the screen, and our attention drifts.
We might be halfway through a conversation, making dinner, reading a book or simply sitting with a cup of tea. Then something appears, asking to be noticed. So we look. Sometimes it is something we have been waiting for. A message from someone we love. A reminder we need. Something that matters. Or sometimes it is something we could easily have missed. But we looked anyway.
I’m curious about that little moment. The moment something calls for our attention, and our attention drifts towards it.
A world that calls
Our phones have made it easy to stay connected. We can hear from people almost anywhere. We can find an answer in seconds. We can be reminded of appointments, deliveries, birthdays and all the little things we might otherwise forget. There is much to appreciate about that. Yet, alongside all that convenience, there is something new. Our devices can call for our attention throughout the day. A message, an email, a news update, a calendar reminder, a little red circle waiting to be opened. Each one is small and almost insignificant on its own. Yet together, they create a steady stream of invitations to look. Sometimes we may not even realise how often we are responding.
The drift of attention
Attention is naturally mobile. It drifts towards something interesting. It follows a thought. It notices a sound. It remembers something. It wonders what might happen next. Our attention drifts. That is simply something attention does. Notifications give it somewhere else to go. There is a sound, and our attention drifts towards it. There is a vibration, and we reach. There is something waiting, and for a moment, it becomes more interesting than whatever was in front of us. Sometimes that is exactly what we want. Sometimes it isn't.
What interests me is not whether we look. It is whether we notice that our attention is being pulled.
A little space
Perhaps there is something worth noticing in that tiny space between the call and our response. Just a moment of awareness.
I heard that. I felt the urge to look. My attention has drifted.
Perhaps, from there, we can simply pause. We might look. We might return to what we were doing. We might decide that this is a good moment for something else. There is no right response.
The kindness may simply be in noticing that we have a choice.
What has your attention?
Our days will always contain interruptions. Some will be welcome. Some will be necessary. Some will barely matter.
We cannot, and perhaps don't need to, protect our attention from everything that might pull at it, but we can become a little more familiar with our own attention. We can notice where it goes. We can notice what calls it, and when it drifts somewhere else, we can gently return. Not perfectly. Not every time. Just when we notice.
“The kindest thing we can give ourselves is our own attention.”
I wonder what you might notice today when something calls for yours.