How do you care about what's happening in the world without it dragging you under? Practice first, news second. Then do one small thing and put it down.
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The night I broke my neck, I only had to get through the next breath. My family were stood in the corridor with nothing to do, not knowing if I'd see the morning. That's the harder seat, and now we're all sat in it, every day, on a phone. Our hearts were built for a village, not 24 hour news. After the Boston bombing, people who watched six hours of coverage a day were more stressed than some of the people who were actually there. I'm a terrible news junkie myself, so I talk about the feed I keep deleting and putting back, Sid Owen from EastEnders, and why the brain can't tell the telly from a war zone. Underneath the anger there's usually a deep caring. The way through isn't caring less.
One thing to try: Before you scroll in the morning, sit quietly for ten minutes and write a small gratitude list. Then read the news, let yourself feel it, do the one small thing if there is one, and put it down.
In this episode
- (0:03) The night I broke my neck, and my family in the corridor
- (1:31) Our hearts were built for a village
- (2:07) The Boston bombing study: six hours of news a day
- (4:50) The brain can't tell the telly from a war zone
- (6:14) Caring without drowning: what you can do at arm's length
- (7:32) Under the anger there's a deep caring
- (9:51) Rabbi Tarfon: you can't finish the work, but you can't walk away
- (10:55) Thomas Merton and the frenzy of the activist
With gratitude to
Tamsyne, Bridie, Orsolya, Paul, Ciaran, Cynthia, Sarpa, Jens, Linda and Genevieve
The companion meditation: When the News Is Too Much: A Meditation to Care and Still Rest
Support the podcast and join the Weekly Calm: stevenwebb.uk
Thank you for listening.
Steven
The question this answers
How do I keep caring about what's going on in the world without being dragged under by the news?
The night I broke my neck, I only had to fight for the next breath, or the next ten minutes. My family had it worse. They were on standby in the corridor, not knowing whether I'd survive the next hour. Helpless. I think the sidelines are the hardest seat, when you can't do a thing to help.
That's where we've all got to now. Every day, on a phone, with the world going to pots and very little any of us can do about it.
The heart of it
- Your heart was built for a village. A few friends, fifty, sixty, a hundred people at most, and the news was the wise elder saying what's going on. Now it comes 24 hours a day.
- Your brain can't tell the telly from the real thing. After the Boston bombing, people who watched six hours of coverage a day were more stressed than some of the people who were actually there.
- Feeling someone's pain in your own body, hour after hour, wears you right out. Caring that does something tends to lift you instead.
I'm a terrible news junkie. I've deleted the news feed on my phone several times, and a few weeks later it's back on. Then I'm scrolling for half an hour in the morning, asking what I'm even looking for. Something to pick me up, I think. It knows what winds you up, and it feels like you can't escape it.
I walked past Sid Owen from EastEnders once, in London. I said, "All right?" and he said, "Yeah, all right." Only afterwards did I think, oh wow, that's Sid Owen. I don't know him at all, but it felt like a friend, because I see him on the telly every day. The brain doesn't know it's a TV, or that a war zone is on the other side of the world.
Underneath the anger at the news and all the doom scrolling, there's usually something quieter. A fear, a sadness, and under both of those, a deep caring. That's why we watch. It isn't a bad thing. It only becomes one when it brings us down.
Practice first, news second.
Caring without drowning is remembering what you can do at arm's length, with what you have. Some days a smile, or a "Hi, how are you doing?", is enough. It may be all the energy you've got, and that's allowed. You'd be surprised how little good acts of kindness make a huge difference.
There's an old rabbi, Rabbi Tarfon, with a line I remember. You are not obliged to complete the work, but neither are you free to walk away from it. You're not going to sort the war out. You're not going to lower the gas prices. Your vote isn't going to change everything overnight. But that one small, real thing nudges the needle, and enough of us doing it every day makes a huge difference. Keep it about the load people are carrying, not which side they're on. The load is enough.
The frenzy of the activist neutralizes his work for peace.
Thomas Merton
It doesn't mean you don't act. The frantic doing, the doing that comes from panic, cancels itself out. Slow down enough to actually help. That's not the same as not caring. It might actually be what caring looks like.
One small thing to try
Practice first, news second. Before you scroll in the morning, sit in quiet for ten minutes. Write a small gratitude list, or journal a little bit. Then, when you do come to the news, read it and let yourself feel it. Do the one small thing if there's a thing you can do, and put it down if you can't. I'm going to try the same.
There's a meditation that goes with this one, When the News Is Too Much, on Inner Peace Meditations, if you'd like some help with the putting it down part.
Questions people ask
Why does the news make me so anxious when I can't do anything about it?
Because your heart was built for a village, and now it gets the whole world, all day. The brain doesn't know the difference between the telly and the room you're in, so a war zone on the other side of the world feels like it's next door.
Does caring mean I have to feel everything?
No. There's a difference between feeling someone's pain and caring about them. Taking it into your own body hour after hour wears you out. Caring that does something, even something small, tends to lift you instead.
What can I actually do if I can't fix any of it?
Start at arm's length. A smile, a "Hi, how are you doing?", a kind word to the person in front of you. Then the one small, real thing that's yours to do, and put it down. You were never going to sort the whole thing out, and you don't have to.
Do I have to stop following politics to protect myself?
No. I'm a politician, so I'd say that. I think more people should be into politics, spiritual people included. You can't avoid it, but you've got to do it in a way that doesn't bring you down.




