I remember when waiting for something usually meant just that. Waiting.
If you were standing at a bus stop, sitting in a waiting room, or waiting for someone to arrive, there wasn’t always something to do. You might have brought a book or a magazine, or perhaps you found someone to talk to. But quite often, you simply waited.
You watched people passing by. You looked out the window. Your thoughts wandered from one thing to another, sometimes without much direction.
And sometimes you were just bored.
I don’t want to pretend those moments were always wonderful. They weren’t. I remember plenty of times when I wished I had something to occupy myself with.
But I’ve been thinking about how different those little spaces in our days have become.
Today, if I have a few minutes to spare, my phone is usually within reach. I can check messages, read something, watch a video, or look up a question that has been on my mind. There is almost always something available to fill the time.
And I wonder if I’ve become so accustomed to having that option that I sometimes reach for my phone without really thinking about why.
Not because there’s something I need to do, but simply because there’s a moment available.
What interests me isn’t really how much time we spend on our phones. That’s a discussion we’ve had many times. I’m more curious about what happens to those small, unplanned moments when we fill nearly all of them with something.
Because those moments weren’t always empty in the way we might think.
Sometimes, when nothing particular was demanding our attention, our minds would wander. We’d remember something, make an unexpected connection, or start thinking about a question we’d forgotten about.
Of course, that didn’t happen every time. Sometimes we just stared at the wall.
But there was room for it to happen.
And I’m beginning to wonder whether that’s what has changed. Not that we’ve lost the ability to think or imagine, but that we’ve become very good at giving ourselves something else to pay attention to before our thoughts have a chance to wander very far.
When a Question Doesn’t Have to Wait
There is another change I’ve been noticing, and it has to do with how quickly we can find answers.
I remember conversations where someone would ask a question nobody knew the answer to. Perhaps it was the name of an actor, something from history, or how a particular thing worked.
We might discuss it for a while. Someone would make a guess. Someone else would disagree. And sometimes the conversation simply moved on without anyone finding out who was right.
The question might come back days later when someone happened to remember the answer or found it in a book.
Today, I can reach for my phone and usually find an answer in seconds.
I appreciate that. I’m a curious person, and having access to so much information is something I would never want to give up.
But I wonder if something else happens when we know an answer is always available.
We don’t necessarily have to spend much time with a question anymore.
We can satisfy our curiosity almost as quickly as it appears.
And most of the time, that’s perfectly reasonable. I don’t need to spend an afternoon wondering what year a particular film was released when I can look it up in a few seconds.
But not every question is that simple.
Some questions become more interesting when we think about them for a while. When we consider different possibilities, realize that our first assumption might be wrong, or discover that the question itself needs changing.
Those are the questions I’m more interested in.
And I wonder whether our growing expectation of immediate answers sometimes follows us into situations where an answer isn’t really what we need yet.
The Difference Between Having a Thought and Developing One
Last week, a hurricane interrupted my usual routine and left us without electricity.
I had planned to work on my blogs and videos, but without power, those plans had to wait.
So I picked up a notebook.
I started writing down thoughts about my YouTube channel, Creator in the Loop, and the direction I might want to take it.
I’ve been exploring AI and its influence on everyday life, but I’ve also been wondering whether I want to make more conversational videos or return to some of the practical tutorials I’ve enjoyed creating over the years.
Normally, I might have opened ChatGPT and started discussing those possibilities.
And I still intend to do that.
But sitting there with my notebook was a different experience.
I wasn’t asking anyone to help me organize my thoughts. I wasn’t trying to develop an outline or decide which direction made the most sense.
I was simply writing down what came to mind.
Some thoughts contradicted others. Some were unfinished. I repeated myself. I changed direction halfway through a sentence.
And none of that mattered.
I didn’t have to explain what I meant or make the ideas understandable to someone else.
They were just my thoughts, in whatever shape they happened to take.
It made me think about how quickly I sometimes move from having an idea to trying to do something with it.
An idea becomes a discussion. The discussion becomes a plan. The plan becomes another project.
That process can be useful, especially when I’m working with AI as a thinking partner.
But perhaps there is also value in letting an idea remain an idea for a little while.
Not because it will necessarily become better, but because I might discover something about what I actually think before inviting another perspective into the conversation.
When Technology Changes the Rhythm of Thinking
We often talk about technology in terms of time.
How many hours do we spend looking at screens? How often do we check our phones? How much of our day is spent online?
Those are reasonable questions, but I’ve started wondering whether time is only part of the picture.
What about the rhythm of our thinking?
When I was younger, finding information often required several steps. I might have to visit a library, look through a book, ask someone who knew more than I did, or simply wait until I had an opportunity to investigate.
Today, the distance between a question and an answer can be almost nonexistent.
And with AI, that distance has become even shorter in some ways.
I don’t even have to know exactly what I’m looking for. I can describe a half-formed thought, ask a question, and receive a response that helps me make sense of it.
I find that genuinely useful.
AI has helped me explore subjects I might not otherwise have investigated, question assumptions, and discover connections between ideas.
But I also notice how easily a conversation can begin shaping my thinking.
I might start with one question, receive an interesting response, and immediately follow that new direction.
Sometimes that’s exactly what I want.
Other times, I wonder what would have happened if I’d stayed with my original thought a little longer.
Would I have reached a different conclusion?
Would I have noticed something the AI didn’t bring up?
Or would I simply have spent more time getting nowhere?
I don’t know.
And I think that’s part of what makes this worth exploring.
Technology doesn’t automatically make our thinking shallower. It can help us think more deeply, especially when we use it to challenge ourselves rather than simply collect answers.
But having immediate assistance available changes the choices we make about when to think independently and when to bring in outside help.
Sometimes those choices are deliberate.
Sometimes they’re habits we barely notice.
Perhaps a Pause Isn’t About Doing Nothing
When people talk about slowing down, the conversation often turns toward rest.
Taking a break. Disconnecting. Putting away our devices. Giving ourselves permission to do nothing.
I understand the appeal, but I don’t think that’s quite what I’ve been thinking about.
During the power outage, I wasn’t doing nothing.
My mind was quite busy.
I was considering ideas, questioning my plans, remembering things I’d enjoyed doing in the past, and imagining different possibilities for the future.
What was missing wasn’t mental activity.
It was the expectation that I needed to turn that activity into something.
I wasn’t working toward a finished video or blog post. I wasn’t following a schedule. I wasn’t trying to solve a problem before moving on to the next task.
I was thinking without needing to produce.
And perhaps that’s a kind of pause we don’t talk about very often.
Not a break from thinking, but a break from constantly doing something with our thoughts.
I wonder how often we allow ourselves that space.
Especially when so many of the tools we use are designed to help us move forward.
A note-taking app encourages us to organize our ideas. A productivity tool helps us turn them into tasks. AI can help us develop them into plans, outlines, and finished work.
All useful things.
But an unfinished thought doesn’t always need to become a task.
Sometimes it can simply be something we’re curious about.
Something we return to later.
Or something that leads nowhere at all.
Do We Need to Make Room for Thinking?
I can already imagine how easily this subject could become another set of recommendations.
Spend ten minutes each morning without your phone.
Schedule time for uninterrupted thinking.
Keep a notebook beside your bed.
Practice being bored.
And perhaps some of those suggestions are helpful.
But I find myself resisting the idea of turning every interesting observation about life into another habit we’re supposed to develop.
Do we really need to optimize our pauses, too?
I don’t want to make thinking space into another obligation on my calendar.
I enjoy technology. I enjoy working with AI. I like being able to look things up, explore ideas, and connect with people whenever I want.
I’m not looking to return to a time when information was difficult to find or when waiting meant having no choice but to stare at the wall.
But I am becoming more curious about the choices I make when I have a quiet moment.
Do I reach for my phone because there’s something I genuinely want to do?
Or because I’ve become accustomed to filling the space?
When I have an idea, do I want help developing it right away?
Or might I enjoy spending some time exploring it on my own first?
And when I don’t know the answer to something, could I occasionally let the question stay with me?
Not as an exercise in discipline.
Just because I might be curious about where my own thinking takes me.
The electricity is back on now. My computer works, the internet is available, and my usual creative routine can continue.
I’m glad.
But I still have those notebook pages from the outage, filled with questions I haven’t answered.
And for once, I’m not particularly interested in rushing to answer them.
Perhaps I’ll leave them open a little longer.
What about you? Do you ever find yourself reaching for your phone or looking for an answer simply because a quiet moment has appeared?
