We live in an age of distraction. Too often, we are thinking about what we will post, thinking about something funny we saw on social media yesterday or even thinking about how an experience might turn into an essay to share (guilty!). When we live this way, we experience a loss. This isn’t a new insight. The author Walker Percy wrote about this phenomenon in his 1954 essay entitled “The Loss of the Creature,” though the technological advances since then have only exacerbated the problems he describes. If the problem isn’t new, maybe the solution doesn’t have to be either. Maybe a tool for discernment from St. Ignatius’ 500-year-old Spiritual Exercises could be the answer we need to help us reclaim the present moment of our lives.
Although the Internet and social media did not exist when Percy wrote his essay, he noticed that people had lost the ability to have authentic experiences largely due to comparison — comparison to photographs, guidebooks and others’ experiences. Nowadays, we can literally compare our experiences in the moment. The digital age has expanded the sources for comparison exponentially.
In his essay, Percy says that comparison of the thing itself (a trip to a specific destination, for example) to the expectation of the thing is when we lose dialectic. He uses this philosophical term to refer to intellectual investigation. Essentially, he’s pointing out that when we compare our experience to our expectations of the experience, there is a loss of wonder, delight and curiosity. We lose a sense of mystery when we approach an experience with set expectations instead of an “investigative” or dialectical attitude that wonders at what might happen.
In 2025, our expectations are mainly supplied by what we see from social media influencers and on the internet. We can easily search a restaurant we’re interested in trying and see the whole menu, as well as photos of the food and customer reviews. We have a very specific idea of what to expect when we make a reservation there. But if it doesn’t meet our expectations — even if the food was good — we might feel dissatisfied.
Percy writes that “the thing is no longer the thing … it is rather that which has already been formulated — by picture postcard, geography book, tourist folders” and our satisfaction with it is now measured by “the degree to which [the thing] conforms to the preformed complex.” If it does not measure up to what we expected, we are “only conscious of the disparity between what it is and what it is supposed to be.” He goes on to say that this makes us approach experiences with a degree of anxiousness; we want to have the “acceptable experience.” We don’t want simply to go to a restaurant — we want to have the same experience at the restaurant that someone else had (or at least what was presented).
Even genuine experiences, Percy claims, lose their delight because one worries about how to package it for others. This rings very true in our current moment. Even while we are having a great time somewhere, we might be thinking about how we will post about it later. Percy thinks it’s also hard to have authentic experiences that are mediated; his examples are museums, tourism and even school. Essentially, he’s wary of anything that’s “packaged” or “curated” in any way. With this type of experience, he says we have given what he calls “sovereignty” to others. But we should not want to be simple “consumer[s] of experience.” Instead of living our lives as something to be curated for content, we should instead want to experience mystery, wonder and awe. Are we still capable of being surprised? Of being genuinely awed?
As I was reading Percy’s essay, I was interested to see that his solution — how he sees our chances to recover what we have lost — is similar to St. Ignatius’ third mode of discernment. Fr. Timothy Gallagher writes helpfully and clearly about these modes of discernment in his book, “Discerning the Will of God.” He explains that, “The first mode is ‘clarity beyond doubting,’ where a person has an unmistakable sense of certainty about God’s will. The second mode involves ‘attraction of the heart,’ where spiritual consolation consistently attracts one to a specific option over time.” The third mode is used when neither of the first two modes provide clarity.
In the third mode of discernment, St. Ignatius recommends viewing the situation as if it were happening to a friend so that we can gain clarity on what we would advise the friend to do. Another way of practicing this mode of discernment involves viewing a situation as it might be remembered from our deathbed (the habit of memento mori). To recover a sense of wonder, Percy suggests trying to gain some distance from our experience. If we are tourists somewhere, for example, he says we should try to see through our fellow tourists’ eyes. That couple with us in Spain? What will they remember from their trip? What are they noticing?
Both Percy and St. Ignatius offer ways for us to step outside of ourselves to gain clarity. Rather than viewing our experiences as things to be curated and shared, posted about, or measured against what we expected, we can step back from them so that we might see them with wonder. Instead of being self-conscious or anxious about our experiences and decisions — being too focused on ourselves and our expectations — Percy and St. Ignatius show how helpful and freeing it is to shift our focus away from ourselves.
Percy doesn’t use this term, but I think this sort of mental shift requires humility. He frequently uses the word “sovereignty” and is concerned with reclaiming authentic experiences so that they are not predetermined by others who influence our expectations. But instead of sovereignty, which would suggest we are completely in control, I think we would have more genuine delight if we acknowledged that we are not in control of all that happens to us. That might sound strange to say. But isn’t it wonderful to think that we could go into an experience and be delighted by it? Surprised? Incorporating St. Ignatius’ modes of discernment in my own life has taught me to have this attitude, which involves the detachment he encourages us to have.
For about eight years now, I have begun every day with a prayer called a morning offering that proclaims: “Lord, I have no idea what will happen to me today. But I know that nothing will happen which has not been foreseen by you and directed to my greater good for all eternity. I adore your holy and unfathomable plans and submit to them for love of you, the pope, and the Immaculate Heart of Mary. Amen.” Even when I have plans, things to do or a sense of what will happen on a given day, I am always surprised. There are always things that happen that I did not expect. This is the way I want to live: open to delight, to wonder, to God’s surprises.
A line from St. Ignatius’ Suscipe prayer says, “I surrender it all to Thee to be disposed of according to Thy will.” We may not know what will happen to us on any given day. We may not know why things happen as they do. We may not know which decision to make. But we open ourselves to being surprised and delighted when we surrender to God and practice humility. The antidote to anxious comparison involves recovering awe and wonder at what might happen that we do not expect. We want to know, for various reasons. But faith requires embracing mystery and acknowledging that we do not know. This can be confounding and frustrating. But it is also freeing and humbling — even wonderful.