MUSIC, STIMULATION, AND THE WANDERING MIND

Oftentimes, I find myself wandering. Mentally, emotionally, and even physically. It doesn’t matter where I am or how busy things may seem around me. At work, in class, during travel, even at my own graduation —I dissociate. Spacing out has become a frequent pastime, one that I never consciously choose but always seem to return to.

I can’t tell whether it is something I particularly enjoy, though it’s sometimes helpful.

video taken by me in aruba (2025)

The use of occupying your time and attention to devices has become so common that it’s now the new normal to do certain things. Like, listening to music on the train —not just for enjoyment, but as a kind of shield. Headphones in, head down, eyes scrolling. It’s a ritual so many of us follow without even thinking. It makes the commute bearable, sure, but it also keeps us disconnected —from our surroundings, from other people, and sometimes from ourselves.

Music, for me, is a comfort. It’s also a constant. I’ve used it to energize myself, think, work, and escape when everything else feels overwhelming. But I’ve noticed that I rarely sit in silence anymore. And when I try, it almost feels uncomfortable, like withdrawal.

Unless I find myself in a foreign environment, I can enjoy quiet moments when surrounded by nature.

Johann Hari, in Stolen Focus, argues that we’ve lost our ability to be present and deeply engaged because we’re constantly stimulated. The silence that used to be natural now feels like a void we have to fill.

“In situations of low stress and safety, mind-wandering will be a gift, a pleasure, a creative force. In situations of high stress or danger, mind-wandering will be a torment.” – Johann Hari (2022)

Hari argues that we’ve been conditioned to crave stimulation. Our brains have been rewired to resist stillness. So even something as beautiful and harmless as music becomes part of the larger noise. A distraction from deeper focus, or even from ourselves.

There’s a balance I’m still trying to find. Music isn’t the enemy —if anything, it’s one of the few things that truly helps me identify what I feel. But I want to learn how to turn down the volume sometimes. Not to escape it, but to return to myself and those around me. To learn what it feels like to just be with no background noise.

It helps setting the scene for wandering, creating creative spaces in mind for scenarios that may never happen, or just random thoughts of the future. When I would live on campus, I’d have to take the train back to New York, and the travel time would often be about two hours before I even reached the city. That gave me enough time to daydream, reminisce, or even sleep.

Oftentimes, I’d find myself thinking about the future, or the unknown. Curating new goals and ideas for myself to act on once I got home. That was when I was the most content with my obsessive need for music.

“‘engage in “mental time-travel,’ where it roams over the past and tries to predict the future. Freed from the pressures of thinking narrowly about what’s right in front of you, your mind will start to think about what might come next—and so it will help to prepare you for it.” – Nathan Spreng (2022)

Aside from the constant visual stimulation on our devices, I’ve found that staring out at the passing environment on a long train ride, hiking through the forests of Guatemala, or watching the waves crash in Aruba brings me something no screen ever could. Whether I’m listening to music or just breathing in silence, dreaming, reflecting, or even imagining, is already an amazing pastime I can always enjoy.

I believe music can genuinely heal and soothe. It’s more than just background noise, it’s ability to reach into places or tap into emotions that words or silence can’t. According to Muriel T. Zaatar, “Music’s ability to tap into diverse psychological and physiological brain states is mediated by the activation of the diverse neural circuits and neuromodulatory systems” (Zaatar).

Despite the dwindling attention spans of many today, music isn’t entirely to blame. The wandering mind can benefit from both music and silence, each offering a different kind of clarity. With time and intention, people can relearn how to think for themselves without constant digital interference.

Whether it’s to create, plan, reminisce, or dream, the ability to consciously reflect is a privilege —especially in a world where quick dopamine hits are constantly being marketed. In these quiet moments of reflection, we begin to reclaim our focus by choosing when and how we engage, rather than being pulled in every direction.

Citations

Zaatar, Muriel T., et al. “The Transformative Power of Music: Insights into Neuroplasticity, Health, and Disease.” Brain, Behavior, & Immunity – Health, vol. 35, no. 1, Elsevier BV, Feb. 2024, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.bbih.2023.100716.

Hari, J. “Stolen Focus: Why You Can’t Pay Attention.” Apple Books, 2022 ISBN-10: 0593138511.