A Journey of Survival and Resilience

In 1982, Harvard biologist E.O. Wilson famously said, “We are drowning in information while starving for wisdom”.

If Wilson were alive today, he would laugh at himself, considering that 90% of the world’s data was created in the last two years. In 1982, he was drowning in a mud puddle. Today, we are flailing around in a tsunami of information, yet still thirsty for wisdom.

Just imagine life before the internet, iPhones, Facebook, Instagram (Reels), TikTok, Netflix, CNN, Fox News, etc. While the amount of information is growing exponentially every year, our ability to process that information has not changed.

We are processing 1,000 times more information with the same brain we had in 1982. That’s like trying to stream an NFL game on Peacock with a Commodore 64 computer.

With that much information coming at us, it’s easy to get distracted and lose our sense of awe. Awe is that feeling that we get when we experience something that challenges our understanding of the world. Just think of looking up at the night sky to see millions of twinkling stars. Does that ever get old?

Drinking Life Through a Fire Hose

As a result of this information overload, we live in a constant state of distraction. We are awash in information, but starving for wisdom and purpose.

Perhaps what we need to do, is slow down. We need to turn off the information flow like when the power goes out during a storm and you suddenly find yourself in the dark. The quiet is a stark contrast to the constant, busy hum that permeates life.

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Have you ever wondered what it would be like to turn it all off? To slow everything down? To remove all but the passage of time?

Elisabeth Tova Bailey’s memoir The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating (public library) illustrates what happens when we slow life down to a crawl.

Bailey’s memoir recalls a mysterious neurological illness—an illness that left her bedridden, her life’s aperture limited to four white, institutional walls for fifteen months.

She was completely unable to even turn over in bed or watch television without total exhaustion.

Bailey retreated into a vortex of time—one that made some painful minutes seem like days and some entire days disappear into weeks and months. A vortex devoid of information.

She noted, “Given the ease with which health infuses life with meaning and purpose, it is shocking how swiftly illness steals away those certainties.” A vortex devoid of all other living things.

Life for Bailey became a story of patience and resilience, like a marathon runner putting one foot in front of the other, trying with all her energy to simply keep moving and not quit. 

Her field of perception shrank to encompass only what existed within the four white walls. She was reduced to simply enduring each day—minute by minute.

An Unlikely Friendship

With life slowed to a snail’s pace, Elizabeth Bailey retreated into solitude. Then, in the depths of existential despair, she received an unusual gift: a friend delivered a potted plant to her bedside, comprised of violets from the nearby woods.

Nestled deep inside the violets, a common woodland snail emerged, entirely unaware of its new home.

Confined to her own shell of a life, Bailey became enthralled with the life of the snail.

She would watch her new companion’s daily adventures and exploration of its new and strange world.

She started embracing each day with a renewed sense of wonder and awe, appreciating the slowness of life. It became an intimate journey of simplicity and shared resilience. It turns out, companionship can arrive in the strangest (and smallest) of packages.

The unlikely companion changed her entire outlook on life. She dedicated hours to simply watching him eat. She wrote, “As the snail's world grew more familiar, my own human world became less so; my species was so large, so rushed, and so confusing.”

The Smallness of Life

In her newfound isolation, Bailey became captivated with the gastropod—watching his gentle movements and marveling at the simplicity and smallness of life that often goes unnoticed. His excruciatingly slow motion provided the only visible evidence of the passage of time.

The snail went about his daily business in isolation, engrossed in moving about the violets without being hindered by the change in circumstances.

It was completely unaware of the enormous impact of those slow and methodical movements. Unaware of the watchful eyes of an unlikely companion, just a few inches away.

But, of course, snails are nearly blind. They also have 2,640 teeth and one foot. (Those two factoids have nothing to do with the story. Not sure why I included them.) However, in contrast to her own pace of life, the snail seemed almost hurried.

A Refined Purpose

After her recovery, Bailey wrote a letter to her doctor:

“I could never have guessed what would get me through this past year—a woodland snail and its offspring; I honestly don't think I would have made it otherwise.

Watching another creature go about its life... somehow gave me, the watcher, purpose too. If life mattered to the snail and the snail mattered to me, it meant something in my life mattered, so I kept on....”

This symbiotic relationship continued for an entire year until Bailey began to recover. As her energy levels increased, she started losing interest in the snail.

She could no longer live at a snail’s pace—her old world was calling her back. Even so, Bailey’s final challenge would be to never forget the snail’s role in her physical and spiritual recovery.

All of this points back to the question raised earlier, “How often do we drown in information while starving for wisdom”?

I’m Tom Greene, and I’m on a mission to empower 1M people to live a more intentional and fulfilling life. If you want to start enriching your life with conversations about the things that really matter, please subscribe below.