The Cyber World Is Stealing Our Sense of Wonder
HH
The Cyber World Is Stealing Our Sense of Wonder
There was a time when wonder was something we carried with us everywhere. When a question hung in the air for days, unanswered, stirring imagination. When a tree outside the window, bending in the wind, could spark a sense of mystery. Or when flipping through an old book in a dusty corner of a second-hand store could lead to a discovery so unexpected that it lingered in your thoughts for days, if not weeks. Wonder wasn’t something you stumbled upon; it was built into the rhythms of daily life.
But today, the world has changed. Or maybe it hasn’t, but our way of interacting with it certainly has. The cyber world has quietly rewritten the terms of our relationship with wonder, and I’m not convinced we’ve even noticed.
The Magic of Unanswered Questions
Remember what it was like to not know something? The feeling of a question tugging at the corners of your mind, unanswered, spinning out all sorts of possibilities? Now, we don’t wonder; we Google. The answer, whatever it is, comes hurtling back at us in seconds, clean and precise, stripped of mystery.
Sure, the internet provides knowledge at the speed of light, and that’s valuable. But there’s a downside: we’re losing the slow burn of curiosity, the delicious tension of not knowing, and the joy of discovery when we stumble upon answers on our own. We used to have to work for our insights, flipping through encyclopedias or piecing together stories from fragments of information. Now, wonder has been replaced by efficiency, and the journey of discovery feels like an outdated, cumbersome process.
The Instant Gratification Trap
We live in an era of instant gratification. The cyber world feeds us information, entertainment, and connection faster than we can even process. But when everything is available on demand, when experiences are pre-packaged and ready to consume at the click of a button, something vital is lost: the sense of anticipation, the buildup, the waiting that once made moments feel special.
Think about it. When was the last time you waited for something—truly waited? Whether it’s the launch of a new series, an email from an old friend, or even a parcel arriving in the post, the wait itself used to be part of the magic. Now, we refresh, we track, we demand updates, and in doing so, we strip the process of its wonder. When everything is immediate, nothing feels sacred anymore.
Nature: The Ultimate Casualty
One of the biggest losses in this cyber-induced erosion of wonder is our relationship with the natural world. In an age where entire ecosystems can be explored through documentaries and drone footage, where we can access endless images of mountains, oceans, and forests from every conceivable angle, the raw experience of nature has somehow been flattened.
No longer do we need to trek through a dense forest or sit beside a river to feel a sense of awe. Instead, we swipe through filtered photos of national parks on Instagram, complete with hashtags and captions. Sure, we see beauty, but do we feel it? The depth, the quiet, the sheer wildness of being out in the world without a screen between us has been diminished. Nature, like everything else, has been reduced to content.
Even Connection Feels Surface-Level
The digital world has given us the ability to connect with anyone, anywhere, at any time. But in doing so, it’s also diluted the quality of those connections. Texts, likes, comments, and DMs—this is how we maintain our relationships now, in fleeting moments between tasks, our attention splintered by endless notifications.
Real connection—the kind that leaves you thinking long after the conversation ends, the kind that surprises you, moves you, or even unsettles you—has been replaced with surface-level exchanges. We no longer give people the gift of our full attention, nor do we receive it. And in losing that depth, we’ve lost the chance to truly be surprised by others, to see them in ways we didn’t expect.
The Fight for Wonder
I don’t mean to say that the cyber world is all bad. It’s given us access to knowledge, experiences, and connections we could never have imagined a generation ago. But in gaining all this, we’ve lost something essential, something unquantifiable: our sense of wonder.
But perhaps, if we’re intentional about it, we can reclaim it. Maybe it’s as simple as allowing ourselves to sit with questions a little longer before reaching for our phones. Maybe it means stepping away from screens and into the messy, unpredictable world around us, even when it feels less convenient. Maybe it means giving ourselves permission to wait, to anticipate, to be bored, to be surprised. Because wonder isn’t something that can be programmed or downloaded. It’s something that happens when we slow down, look up, and let ourselves be curious again.
And the world, for all its digital distractions, is still waiting to astonish us—if we’re willing to give it the chance.
-Harry Hickey.