The Virtue of Not Overthinking
There is a kind of man who reads everything, and I have noticed he is never happy. He knows the counterargument to every argument, including his own. He cannot enjoy a ballgame because he has read about the knees. He cannot enjoy his country because he has read about its history. He has, as they say, done the reading, and the reading has done him.
I want to make the case for the other man. He settles a question once and then gets on with his life. When someone brings him new information, he asks the only question that matters: does this change anything I care about? Usually it does not, and he goes back to his supper.
People call this closed-mindedness. I call it peace. A mind is like a house. You can leave every door open to whatever wanders in off the street, or you can decide what belongs there and lock up at night. Our grandparents locked up at night. They slept fine.
Notice that the people who most want you to “think critically” never seem to arrive at any conclusion but their own. Notice, too, how tired they look. Thinking, past a certain point, is not a virtue. It is a symptom.
So here is my modest advice. Decide what you believe while you are young and healthy and clear-headed, and then protect it the way you would protect anything else you love. You do not reconsider your wife every morning. Why would you reconsider your convictions?
The happiest people I know are not the best informed. I don’t think that is a coincidence. I think it is the whole point.
D. M.