Nuns fret not at their convent’s narrow room;
And hermits are contented with their cells;
And students with their pensive citadels;
Maids at the wheel, the weaver at his loom,
Sit blithe and happy; bees that soar for bloom,
High as the highest Peak of Furness-fells,
Will murmur by the hour in foxglove bells:
In truth the prison, into which we doom
Ourselves, no prison is: and hence for me,
In sundry moods, ’twas pastime to be bound
Within the Sonnet’s scanty plot of ground;
Pleased if some Souls (for such there needs must be)
Who have felt the weight of too much liberty,
Should find brief solace there, as I have found.
--William Wordsworth
Have you ever felt "the weight of too much liberty"? It's a paradox, but I suspect that in our modern culture, it's a really familiar one. Having lots of choices available is only a good thing if we are actually willing to make a choice. The trouble is that a choice is always between two options: "yes" to this means "no" to that. And unless the preference is very, very obvious, we are mostly so crazy unwilling to say "no" to anything that we never say "yes" either. It's ironic, isn't it? FOMO, the Fear Of Missing Out, does not save us from missing out -- it causes us to miss out.