Connection & Reflection

Back in the ‘70s, Bruce Alexander conducted the Rat Park experiment. It revealed something remarkable about addiction, discipline and environment. Rats were placed in isolation with two water bottles, one plain and one laced with opioids. Left to their lonely devices, they drank the latter until they overdosed.

A separate set of rats was placed in Rat Park: full of friends, potential sexual partners and toys to play with. These were given the same access to the same two bottles. The second set, remarkably, preferred the plain water. Intermittently they drank from the drug-filled bottle, not obsessively, and none of them overdosed.

We don’t cite animal studies when highlighting the benefits of ZAAG because… we aren’t animals. So whilst it’s doubtful many of you reading this are rats, the logic beneath it bears consideration with regards to our obsession with endless distraction. Social media is dopaminergic, just like the drug bottles, as are video games and, to a lesser extent, streaming too.

If we're struggling with the discipline to work on something fulfilling, can’t shake the allure of watching Traitors instead of tuning our guitar, or puncture any original thought with a side-dish of TikTok, perhaps our environment isn’t set up for us to succeed.

As Carl Jung so rightly said,

What’s odd though – and the below is American data – is that we now spend about 100 more minutes at home per day than in 2003. We have the time to reflect, to direct our attention in whatever way we decide, yet there’s a pervasive line of thought amongst many that we just can’t get ourselves to make progress on either spiritually enriching or purpose-affirming tasks.

The above graph indicates a potential loss of connection as we opt for more time indoors – see Putnam’s Bowling Alone. But the wider point we’d like to make, though anecdotal, is that too many of us skirt the remarkable benefits of reflection. The process will be dull compared to the new Mr Beast video, of course. But reflection is also messy. It often leads to the confrontation of shame, fears, failure and unfulfilled potential. 

Plenty of people set goals, journal or meditate. We’re certain they’re far fewer than those who don’t, though.

We perpetually park our thoughts as we walk in the park with podcasts. 

Steal moments of contemplation from our commute with scrolls and memes. 

Escape endlessly in favour of courageously facing our dreams and desires; glossing over inaction with a 90-minute action film.

Less time with others means less accountability: Our mate will ask what’s happening with the pipe dream we keep pining for, prompting us to take action or change tact. The success of a person in front of us is far easier to relate to, and be inspired by, than a disembodied Insta profile with a Central Park view.

We’ve lost, according to sociologist Marc Dunkelman, the “middle ring.” Modernity solidifies our “inner ring” (family, intimate friends) and our “outer ring” (online connections) – but the “familiar but not intimate” layer, the middle ring, is gone.

It’s easy to lament these losses. To long for yesteryear. Instead, why not rebuild what’s missing? Form a book club. Start a running group. Join a sports team. The arenas where we encounter individuals outside our usual wheelhouse of vetted individuals stimulate new behaviours, challenge our preconceptions and offer potential inspiration.

Connection doesn’t require gatekeepers or fancy apps—just the courage to start. Two years into my book club, I’ve read books I’d never touch alone and had conversations I’d never otherwise experience. Accountability works. Whether it’s a coach, a workout partner, or a book deadline, we thrive when someone’s counting on us to show up.

Performance starts with self-reflection. In today’s overstimulated world, reflection is rebellion. 

We’re not short on dreams: fluency in Italian; a volunteer project; writing our life story. Fill in the blanks. These ambitions live within us all. Yet too often, they’re abandoned because we’ve accepted the myth that discipline comes from sheer willpower. That the future version of us will somehow magically muster the courage today’s version cannot. 

They won’t. Discipline isn’t conjured, it’s cultivated. There are tools, systems and accountability for a reason. They’re the training grounds of performance. Maybe meditation isn’t a good fit. Maybe the Pomodoro technique doesn’t suit. Journaling might give us the ick. But something will work if we keep trying.

That event we tried to start 10 years ago didn’t sell enough tickets, who’s to say the second iteration won’t just change our life?

The inundation of self-help books, influencers and strategies has blunted the agency, ambition and capacity of so many of us. The contemplation of the idea satiates us just enough to stymie any meaningful effort to make it happen. The saying “fruits of your labour” rings true. We all want the fruits. How many of us are willing to do the labour?

When times get tough we revert to what we’ve always done. That’s why we rewatch The Office, or order our favourite pizza for the 600th time, when shit hits the fan. By practising reflection, we provide ourselves with a tool to break cyclical behaviour. Our brains physically alter themselves to encourage the repetition of habits and conserve energy.

Introducing activities like reflection that hold us accountable and highlight our insecurities in place of easy, entrenched and enjoyable ones is tough. But by never giving ourselves the space to think, dream, plot and review, we forego traction for distraction. 

Everyone can find 20 minutes each week to reflect on past efforts and cast the vision for future ones. Everyone.

The world’s a noisy place. Turn the volume off a little more. Who is your ideal self and how far away from that person are you, based on your daily actions? The person you could be is the person you are, just with some tweaks to your routine. 

By not asking yourself the deep questions though, holding yourself accountable or, failing that, asking someone else to help keep you on course, you’ll never find out.