From FOMO to JOMO - the joy of missing out
Have you had this experience? You sit down to watch something, and you just can’t decide.
You surf over to this preview and that one, uncertain what you really want to watch. Pretty soon half an hour has gone by, and you haven’t started anything yet!
Infinite Browsing Mode
Author Pete Davis calls this Netflix paralysis “Infinite Browsing Mode.” In his book Dedicated, he discusses how Infinite Browsing Mode has become a mode of life.
It goes way beyond choosing a movie: Infinite Browsing Mode prevents people from forming solid relationships, joining communities, and building careers. As a result we collectively suffer from lack of belonging.
Lately I’ve been asking a related question: Why is it so hard for us to help our children dedicated themselves to the slow mastery of a musical instrument? Is it related to this Infinite Browsing Mode? Is that starting younger and younger?
There are a number of possible answers, all of them complex. I believe the answers are related to the phenomenon of too much choice. This abundance of choice creates the anxiety we call “Fear of Missing Out” or FOMO. And the “fear” factor in FOMO is what gets us stuck.
When we are stuck in Infinite Browsing Mode, we prioritize endless opportunities in the future, rather than pursuing deep commitment in the present.
FOMO is not just a meme. It is a real phenomenon of the human brain. Researchers have found that when people are asked to choose something, and then asked about their happiness with the choice, their happiness is tied to whether or not they could have made a different choice.
The curse of too much choice
FOMO is part of a societal pattern which increases our awareness of many possible choices.
In Dedicated, Davis cites research where people were given two photos and asked to choose between them. One group was told their choice was final, and a second group was told they could switch their choice up until a deadline. The second group worried afterward that they may not have made the right choice, because they were more aware of the possibility of choosing differently.
The more choices we are aware of, the worse that phenomenon is. The grocery chain Trader Joe’s knows this. They purposefully limit the number of products they carry, they do not advertise major brands, and their aisles are small. Selection is limited, and yet people love it.
Is FOMO a curse of the freedom we enjoy? A constant anxiety about whether we have made the right choices, whether we will make them in the future? And by extension, do we worry constantly about our children’s freedom to choose, simply knowing how much there is to choose from?
Two Sides of FOMO
FOMO shows up in parents who enroll their kids in too many activities and then feel stressed and unhappy trying to keep up with it all. We prevent a child’s artistic development, by scattering their energy around in too many places.
There is also a flip side of FOMO. Once children (or their parents) choose to focus on music, they may only be playing in order not to miss out on some future opportunity, rather than to create art in the present.
Music then becomes about checking boxes and jumping through hoops, only a way to get ahead.
Recognizing limits
Oliver Burkeman suggests that we replace the fear of missing out with the joy of missing out. In Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management For Mortals, he suggests that the false premise of most time management is that we actually can do it all.
We tend to believe that if we just find the right way to organize, if we just have the right tools, if we work smarter, and become more efficient, we really will achieve the happy and satisfied life we want.
But this is a lie. We cannot do it all. We cannot even do most of it! And neither can our kids.
We cannot do it all. We cannot even do most of it! And neither can our kids.
Burkeman suggests this is a recognition of our mortality, our finitude. It is baked into our lives as humans that we are only given time and energy for a very limited number of activities.
Truly grasping this isn’t as simple as just learning to say no, Burkeman says. Every choice we make is a choice not to do a thousand other good, practical, important, honorable, desirable things. This is far beyond a mere technique of communication or boundaries, it is an existential admission of limits. As human beings, we can only do a tiny fraction of what is possible.
This is the first step in finding true joy. We must realize that the path forward is limited. Once we accept that, we are free to deepen our involvement with a few things, rather than scattering ourselves around to the many.
Exploring one thing at a time
But, you may say, what about exploration? What about the need young people have of widening their horizons? And what about the danger of getting pigeon-holed too early? Don’t we want our kids to have access to more opportunity and more experience than we were granted?
Exploration is a good thing. Pete Davis recognizes this; he devotes a whole chapter in Dedicated to the up-side of browsing mode. Better than being in a locked room, finding the hallway with many doors and many options allows us to breathe and expand. This is a necessary stage of growth and shouldn’t be skipped. It’s just that we can’t live permanently in the hallway.
Young people do need to explore. However, exploration can be done with an eye toward focus: what one thing do we want to develop together, and let the rest come when we can? If you don’t yet know what the one thing is, better to try one thing and then switch later, than to try too many things at a time.
My advice to parents who ask about taking another instrument is this: explore one thing at a time. If you want to try a second instrument, do it later. (A music major in college provides many opportunities for picking up second and third instruments.) For now, don’t play two instruments at the same time in a misguided attempt to “try things out” unless you truly intend for one to be on the side.
fomo in competitive sports
I worry particularly about sports FOMO. Many youth sports are more competitive than ever, asking more of kids earlier and earlier. What starts as exploration for parents quickly becomes an over-scheduling nightmare.
My advice to parents with kids in sports: do it sparingly. Don’t subscribe to the mandatory attendance policies and competitive rationale that says “if we don’t practice all year round, or every Saturday for three hours, we won’t win.”
My advice to parents with kids in sports: do it sparingly.
Exploring a sport is fine, for a season, for a limited time, but it needs to be without the attachment of success or worthiness.
The draw of sports is also social, of course, making it hard to resist. I think that every child needs both music and athletics integrated into their lives, just without getting the message that they are doing it only to become some future star, and without parents getting the message that they have to provide an endless round of "opportunities" or else their kids won't succeed later on.
Both the “future star” and the “future success” stories we tell ourselves create anxious FOMO and scatter a child’s attention.
Questions to consider
What would the world be like if changed our paradigm from FOMO to JOMO?
What if we helped our kids explore artistic depth, rather than mere breadth of activity?
What if we encouraged kids to master one ability-interest (while exploring a limited range of others)?
What would it be like to accept who we really are as limited humans?
What if we could find a rooted joy in commitment, rather than always trying to keep our options open?
The Joy of Missing Out
When we limit our choices, and when we teach our kids to do the same through the cultivation of a practice, we can truly open the door to mastery of a skill set. This kind of mastery brings a truer picture of the self, and a more peaceful relationship to the world.
What will you stop doing today that is limiting the depth in your and your children’s lives?
May you find depth and dedication for you and your children in the coming school year, and may that open the door to joy.
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I recommend everyone get a copy of the book Dedicated!
For more on the Joy of Missing out, see Oliver Burkeman’s book Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management For Mortals.