So, you know when you're staring at your phone, and you start scrolling through endless feeds of curated content? It’s like a black hole, and the next thing you know, fifty minutes of your life are gone. It’s fascinating, and kinda terrifying, how easily we let ourselves drift through digital landscapes without really seeing anything. Which, weirdly enough, is a lot like how we navigate through life in general. We miss so much that’s right in front of us, and I’m starting to think it’s not just modern tech making that happen.

This isn't just about technology though. It's our brains. They've evolved to filter out stuff. Like, can you imagine if you noticed every single thing around you all the time? Sensory overload. We'd go nuts. But this efficiency has got a downside, like missing a friend's change in mood or not realizing the leaves have gone from green to gold outside. It's like a built-in blind spot. You might be asking how we can pay attention to what matters without getting overwhelmed. Or if that’s even possible.

Take this: say you're walking down the street and a guy starts playing a violin that literally sounds angelic. But you're on your phone, checking an email, and you pass by without a second thought. This musician? Yeah, he’s a world-renowned artist. Without context, brilliance can get ignored. It’s not always the composer’s fault, though; it’s ours. We’re wired to prioritize immediate tasks, like not getting hit by a car, over recognizing incredible talent casually gracing our morning commute.

You know what's wild? This lack of awareness makes us kind of terrible at assessing what's real or important. Think about it. How much do we do just because it's what we're used to? Things like traditions, routines, and even our core beliefs often go unexamined because they’re comfortable. Comfort can be the quiet death of curiosity. George Orwell once said, “To see what is in front of one's nose needs a constant struggle.” It's like our brain is a lazy security guard.

But how do we push past this autopilot? I've been experimenting with this idea of consciousness expansion, not in a psychedelic way, though that's a rabbit hole for another day, but more like mental exercises. Sort of like training a muscle. What if we could retrain ourselves to notice the unnoticed? Think Michelangelo chiseling David from a slab of marble, noticing the possibility others overlook.

We could start by dropping through our own rabbit holes. Like, I tried this exercise where you pick one thing to focus on in each moment. On a hike, just listen to the wind. Standing in line, actually look at the people around you. We're retraining our brains to notice past the static, like tuning an old radio to a clear station.

There's this thing called mindfulness, but let's not get woo-woo about it. It’s basically using attention as a lens, zooming in and out consciously, like a camera. When was the last time you truly tasted your coffee or really heard a friend’s laugh? Those moments are thick with life, but we skim past them.

Here’s a weird thought: what about the way we perceive time? We always talk about it linearly, right? The past, present, future. But what if time isn’t a straight line? Would we notice more if we considered it differently? There’s this theory called “eternalism” which suggests all points in time are equally real. I don’t know, maybe our linear view restricts us more than we realize.

Does changing your perception change reality? That might be too out there, but altering perception alters experience. Like, when you're in love, food tastes better and music sounds richer. Or when you're stressed, everything seems heavier, even the air. So, maybe reality isn’t what's in front of us but what we make of it in our minds.

And then there's technology, which we thought would help us connect and see more. Ironically, it's making us more myopic. Every notification, every digital alert, it’s like another blindfold. So, are we seeing the world through a pixelated filter, thinking it's HD? I’m not trashing tech; it helps us do incredible things, but it’s a tool, not the world itself.

So maybe the challenge is learning to use tech in a way that enhances our view rather than narrows it. Like, what if we used our phones or watches to remind us to look around, not just look down? Maybe even design apps that interrupt us with prompts to pay attention to the real world.

The other day, my friend Mike made a killer point. He was like, “Maybe we’re scared to really look 'cause we don’t know what we’ll find.” The more I think about it, the more it resonates. Knowing requires responsibility. Once you notice, you can’t unnotice. Maybe that's why we hide behind our screens. It’s safe not to see.

Now, I’m not coming at this with all the answers. I’ve got way more questions than solutions. But I think that’s okay. Questions open doors. They’re like seeds. You plant them and, who knows? Maybe you end up exploring things you never even considered possible.

But what if we’re not even the ones asking the questions? What if our reality is being shaped by the questions someone else is asking for us? That’s a trip. But as builders and creators, we hold the power to disrupt that narrative. By designing our own systems of attention and perception, becoming the authors of our story again. How do we curate our own reality in a world that’s always curating for us?

We can design systems that make it easier to notice what's worth our attention instead of what steals it. Systems thinking, I guess. Like setting boundaries with tech, practicing intentional space, and structuring our environments so they don’t overtake our mental real estate.

And what about community? Can we engage with others in a way that enhances perception rather than diminishes it? That's the kind of designing I think we’re all low-key hungry to explore. Not just interface designers, but life designers, consciousness hackers, and reality architects. Imagine conversations that peel back layers as if we’re all shedding clothes of ignorance together.

Here's a new tangent to chew on: How do algorithms fit into all this? They direct what we see, hear, experience. It's like they’re tailor-making reality for us but with the same lazy defaults of our brain. A little creepy, right? Algorithmic bias could be blurring our lenses in more ways than we know. Something to dig into another time, but it's definitely an angle worth exploring further.