Joseph Kreydt

Tag: happiness

  • Disembodiment: The Quiet Epidemic of Modern Life

    Disembodiment: The Quiet Epidemic of Modern Life

    Why screen life feels hollow, and how to come back to your body

    When Prompt Engineering Isn’t Enough

    For a while, because of its ability to reason at such an impressive level, I thought AI might be one of the better inventions of the modern age. But life isn’t just reasoning and logic. Much of life makes no sense at all. Much of our reasoning, even, is illogical and based instead on feelings. AI can’t feel. Reasoning is no longer a problem for humanity. AI solves that. But disembodiment has become more a problem than ever. AI, with all of its brilliant reasoning, can’t help us when our feelings defy logic, or when we lose touch with our own bodies.

    When you need to scream into a pillow or go for a run to let off some steam, all of the ChatGPT prompt engineering in the world won’t solve your problem. Worse, it could distract you from the problem, enabling it to go unsolved and fester like an untreated wound. That is disembodiment, losing touch with the signs and feelings and intuitions of your physical body.

    Our Technological Landscape

    Most technologies haven’t done much to improve our actual well-being. Sure, there are specific tools that have made certain things easier, but how many have truly made us better off than our ancestors? And even then, are we really better off?

    Modern medical technology might help us live longer. But does it help us live better, more virtuous, more fulfilled lives? And would we even need help living longer if we spent our days outside, away from screens, moving our bodies and eating the way our ancient ancestors did?

    Maybe our technologies just solve problems that other technologies created. We use blood glucose monitors to keep diabetes in check, but diabetes itself is a disease often caused by the sedentary life style enabled by technology and the hyper-palatable-but-devoid-of-nutrition foods developed as a sort of technology themselves. Maybe life was better before all of it.

    I still believe it’s possible to use our tools wisely, especially if we cultivate virtues like temperance and prudence. With intention, we can benefit from technology without letting it hollow us out.

    But after about a year of testing and experimenting with AI, I’m starting to lose hope that it’s actually going to improve our lives in any meaningful way.

    A Hopeful View of the Future

    Still, despite my reservations, I haven’t given up hope entirely.

    In the long run, I see a positive light. If we ever reach that future where artificial general intelligence handles all of our labor, leaving us only the most human work to do, that could be beautiful. The only jobs left might be the ones centered on connection and compassion: listening, empathizing, consoling, comforting, being present, loving. The kind of work that often goes unnoticed now might become the most valuable.

    What AI Can’t Do

    But we’re not there yet. We might never get there. Maybe this whole AI movement is just another tech trend, another wave of hype.

    Even without general intelligence, the AI we have today can do some impressive things. It can act like a therapist or a friend. It can solve complex problems, teach new skills, generate art and poetry and recipes. It can write jokes. It can organize your life into a neat PDF.

    It’s convincing, even comforting at times.

    But it can’t live for you.

    That’s the hard part. That’s the part we have to do ourselves. And in this digital age, it’s exactly what we need most: embodiment.

    AI can help us plan. It can suggest habits. It can make a checklist. But it can’t walk the path. It can’t be in your body. It can’t be present in your world. That’s your work.

    Embodiment Is No Longer the Default

    In the past, embodiment was just how life worked. Everything was physical and analog. We didn’t have usernames or avatars. We were who we were; flesh and blood, personality and presence, names given by our parents, bodies shaped by our lives.

    Now, embodiment is a practice. Life has become so digitized that living in the real world requires intentional effort. We have to choose it.

    And embodiment matters. It’s not just a poetic ideal. It means fewer mental health issues, fewer physical health issues. It means clarity. It means connection to reality. It means being truly, fully alive.

    Embodiment matters and, if we are to be embodied, we must be intentional about it.

    Why Embodiment Matters in the Digital Age

    When we’re out of touch with our bodies, it affects everything. We might feel anxious or tired in ways that rest doesn’t fix. Emotions can pile up inside without a way out. It’s like we’re always buzzing, but not in a good way.

    The psychiatrist, Bessel van der Kolk, who wrote The Body Keeps the Score, talks about how stress and trauma live in the body. And how healing comes through the body too. It comes through movement, breath, and feeling.

    When we’re disconnected, we’re also more easily influenced. More easily overwhelmed. It’s harder to feel clear and grounded.

    Simple Practices to Reconnect With Your Body

    The good news is, it doesn’t take much to come back. You don’t need to escape your life or overhaul everything. You just need to take a few small, intentional steps to come back to your body:

    • Go barefoot. On grass or dirt or sand. It helps your feet remember the ground.
    • Touch cold water. A cool splash of water on your face or a quick dip in a stream can really wake up your senses.
    • Write by hand. No screens. Just pen and paper. Let it be slow.
    • Move a little. Stretch, sway, lie on the floor. No rules. Just move however feels good.
    • Use your hands. Make something—bread, a little drawing, a pot of soup. Anything.
    • Breathe and rest. Sit still. Feel your breath. Let silence be a friend, not something to avoid.

    These are ways home, back to embodiment.

    Our Bodies Matter

    I believe we’re not just minds or spirits. We’re souls deeply interconnected with bodies. That matters. Jesus Christ didn’t come as a theory or a thought. He came in flesh. He walked, touched, healed, got tired, wept, laughed, bled.

    Your body matters too. It’s part of your life. With yourself. With others. You don’t have to live floating above everything. You can land. You can be here. Come back to yourself. And if you’re feeling far away right now, that’s okay too. You’re not broken. Just a bit disembodied. And you can return, gently but steadily, to embodiment.

    This has been on my heart for a while. I hope it helps you find a part of yourself that may have been lost.

  • Unlock the Magic: 8 Simple Ways to Rediscover Wonder

    Unlock the Magic: 8 Simple Ways to Rediscover Wonder

    Life can feel dull and even depressing. Routines are great, but they go stale from time to time. Your mental health can be on par, but still, life can knock you down. But if you’re feeling stuck in a rut, there’s always wonder.

    Wonder is that feeling of seeing a magic trick and being so impressed that you don’t care how the heck it works. No, wonder is even more than that. It’s seeing the magic in everyday life. You don’t need a ticket to a magic show or an exotic destination to experience it. It’s all around you, hidden in ordinary life, waiting to be noticed.

    Here are eight ways to invite more wonder into your life.

    1. Meditate.

    In much the same way that jogging is exercise for the body, mindfulness is exercise for the mind. It helps you learn to focus your attention, and that is crucial for wonder. To wonder about something, you have to give it your attention.

    Start simple: try a body scan meditation. Pay attention to how your toes feel, then move your focus up to your legs, then your arms… Don’t worry if your mind wanders at first. When you notice it, bring it back gently. Over time, as you practice, your focus will increase, and you’ll be able to stay alert and curious for longer spans of time.

    The more you’re focused and curious, the more you’ll notice things that fill you with a sense of wonder.

    2. Collect ideas.

    Ideas often inspire wonder. Use a notebook, the camera on your phone, a voice recorder, whatever, to capture interesting ideas, thoughts, and observations. Over time, you’ll have a treasure chest of wonders to revisit when you need some inspiration.

    3. Learn about nature.

    Nature is basically a wonder factory. Did you know that some eagles are strong enough to carry off wild pigs? I learned that in How to Know the Birds. Or did you know that deer taste bad to trees? I learned that in The Secret Network of Nature. Or have you ever seen a bonsai kumquat tree full of kumquats? I saw one at the conservatory in my city.

    Books, research papers, museums, and documentaries are all great ways to learn about nature. But the best way is to just spend some time outside-maybe bring a magnifying glass and look at bugs.

    4. Visit a beautiful place.

    Sometimes a change of scenery can help you feel a sense of awe. It doesn’t have to be the Eiffel Tower. You can find something closer to home. Maybe it’s a beautiful church, a breathtaking bridge, or even a funky modern building downtown. Take a moment to soak it in. Notice the little details. Wonder about it. Let yourself be amazed.

    5. Read proverbs.

    Proverbs are tiny packages of wisdom. They’re almost as good as fortune cookies. Sometimes you can get a fortune cookie and a proverb all in one. But sometimes all you need is the proverb. They make you pause and think.

    Pick up the Bible or scroll through Pinterest, find a collection of proverbs, and see which ones stick with you. Bonus points if you write them down in your treasure notebook.

    6. Ask people questions.

    Wonder doesn’t have to be complicated. It can start with a simple question: “How’s your day going?” or “What do you think about this weather?” You’ll be amazed at the stories some people share-and how they can open your eyes to new perspectives. Plus, asking good questions is a skill that grows with practice.

    7. Stop googling everything.

    Next time you have a question—like, “Why do rhinos have horns?”—don’t immediately google it. Let yourself wonder for a bit. Go ahead, pretend you’re an armchair scientist or a time-traveling explorer. Make up theories. Play around with the possibilities. Feel free to google it later. But only after you’ve had some fun first.

    8. Draw with the right side of your brain.

    Grab a pencil and paper and try drawing something you see. Don’t worry about being good at it; just focus on seeing. The act of drawing from sight turns on the right side of your brain, the side that sees things without thinking about them, and entices you to notice details you’d otherwise overlook. Before you know it, you’ll be seeing the world in a whole new way.

    If you want some guidance on drawing with the right side of your brain, I highly recommend the classic drawing book, Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain. I can’t promise it made me good at drawing, but it certainly taught me a few things.

    The magic of wonder

    That’s it! Wonder isn’t about having all the answers. It’s about asking questions and letting yourself be amazed even when-especially when-you don’t get the answer you were expecting.

    Why not try one or two of these ideas this week and see what happens? Who knows, you might just see some real magic.

  • The Art of Wonder: Curiosity, Awe, and the Story of Job

    The Art of Wonder: Curiosity, Awe, and the Story of Job

    I’ve been wondering about wonder. It seems there are two parts to wonder. There’s the curiosity part: “I wonder how?” And then there’s the awe part: “How wonderful!”

    It’s possible that curiosity and awe are two distinct definitions of the word wonder, but I suspect they go hand in hand. If we aren’t curious, we’ll never look to see what’s around the corner. And we’ll never be awestruck by something we can’t see.

    You might suggest that, at times, we can experience wonder without looking for it, without curiosity. Sometimes it surprises us. That may be true. But I wonder if, by being curious, we might find it far more often. We might even find it in the most ordinary things, like steam rising from a mug or the pair of eyes we see every day in the mirror.

    The Old Testament story of Job gets into this matter. At the beginning of the story, his life is great. But then all sorts of terrible things happen to him. His children die, his wife curses him, his health plummets. It is then that he becomes curious. “Why is this happening to me?”

    However, Job takes his questioning too far. Instead of remaining curious about things, he demands answers.

    In contrast to his demand for answers, Job’s friends don’t ask questions at all. Instead, they tell him why these terrible things must have happened to him. They don’t wonder, they assume. They cling to simplistic explanations, ignoring the mystery and complexity of life.

    Between Job and his friends, we see two forces that destroy curiosity, and therefore wonder. Job’s experience of wonder is inhibited by his demand for answers. His friends’ experiences of wonder are inhibited by their assumptions.

    Curiosity, by contrast, is neither a demand for answers nor an assumption of the answers. It’s asking questions while remaining open to mystery. And it’s the mysterious things that leave us in awe. It’s the unknown that makes us wonder and leaves us with a feeling of wonder. Neither Job nor his friends seem to understand this.

    No matter. God replies to Job’s demands. But He doesn’t give him answers. He doesn’t tell him why terrible things have happened to him. Instead, He asks Job questions that Job cannot answer, questions he can only wonder at. Through some of the most beautiful poetry, God opens Job’s heart to the awesomeness of wonder.

    He asks, “Where were you when I founded the earth?”

    If Job wasn’t struck with wonder in that very moment, no problem. God had plenty more questions for Job to ponder. These are some of my favorites:

    “Or who shut in the sea with doors, when it burst forth from the womb; when I made clouds its garment, and thick darkness its swaddling band, and prescribed bounds for it, and set bars and doors, and said, ‘Thus far shall you come, and no farther, and here shall your proud waves be stayed’?”

    Chapter 38, Verses 8-11

    “Have you commanded the morning since your days began, and caused the dawn to know its place?”

    Chapter 38, Verse 12

    “Who has cleft a channel for the torrents of rain, and a way for the thunderbolt?”

    Chapter 38, Verse 25

    God’s answer is one big, beautiful poem that essentially says, “Wonder.” It says, you were not the one who gave everything in the universe its form, its boundaries, its place, its beauty. You are the one who has been given it as a gift. You cannot know all the answers. You can demand to know, you can pretend to know, or you can wonder. The path that opens your heart to the experience of beauty, reality, and goodness is wonder.

    So perhaps, by cultivating curiosity, we can open ourselves to awe. By asking questions without demanding answers, by being present to mystery, we might find wonder, even in the ordinary. We might find it in the similarity between the words pain and rain, or we might find it in a sprinkled donut. We might, like Job, be invited into a deeper understanding of life’s mysteries, not through explanations, but through the gift of wonder itself.

  • The Life-Saving Power of Happy Memories

    The Life-Saving Power of Happy Memories

    A family friend once lost his son to suicide. When I saw him at a reunion a few months later, he wasn’t just surviving—he was living. Someone asked how he stayed so positive, and he said simply: “I focus on the good memories.”

    Sometimes people act happy even when they are suffering tremendous pain. But my friend didn’t seem to be acting. Maybe he’s just a good actor, or maybe there’s some real truth in his answer.

    What if happy memories aren’t just nostalgic but essential for our wellbeing? The Brothers Karamazov, Harry Potter, and psychological research, all suggest recalling a happy memory as a powerful tool.

    The final speech in The Brothers Karamazov may be my favorite scene in the entire 350,000 word novel. Alyosha, often seen as the novel’s spiritual heart, offers this wonderful piece of advice.

    “You must know that there is nothing higher and stronger and more wholesome and good for life in the future than some good memory, especially a memory of childhood, of home. People talk to you a great deal about your education, but some good, sacred memory, preserved from childhood, is perhaps the best education. If a man carries many such memories with him into life, he is safe to the end of his days, and if one has only one good memory left in one’s heart, even that may sometime be the means of saving us.”

    While The Brothers Karamazov suggests carrying a positive memory, Harry Potter illustrates its power. In The Prisoner of Azkaban, Harry is attacked by Dementors. Professor Remus Lupin explains how these dark creatures work.

    “Get too near a Dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory, will be sucked out of you. If it can, the Dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself – soulless and evil.”

    The best way for a person to break free from the hypnotic clutches of a Dementor is The Patronus Charm. The charm is cast with a chant that only works if the caster is focusing, with all their might, on a single happy memory.

    This idea of remembering positive experiences is also echoed in psychological research. Much like the Patronus protects Harry from the Dementors, recalling happy memories can reduce depression and dampen stress responses. One study found that recalling happy memories reduced depression in adolescents with a history of trauma. Another showed that such recall dampens the stress response. In this second study, researchers compared the use of happy memories to the use of neutral ones. The happy memories showed clear benefits over neutral ones.

    It looks like my friend was onto something. There is good evidence, in fiction and science, that focusing on happy memories comes with real benefits.

    I like to keep a memory of my grandfather handy for when I need a little boost. When he was nearing his death, my parents encouraged me to play guitar for him. I only knew a few basic chords at that point, but I managed to stumble through a couple of punk rock songs. To my surprise, my grandfather beamed with joy and praised my meager expressions. That memory, small yet sacred, is like a light that guides me through darkness. What about you? Is there a memory you hold onto that lights your way?