what is comforting about scrolling?

Pedrito leaned back, a soft smile on his face, his drink untouched as usual. We were sitting in a cozy Venezuelan bar near my old Bushwick apartment, but, as always, he was more interested in the conversation than the alcohol. “You know what I think,” he said, eyes gleaming with the kind of clarity only a genuine Buddhist could muster, “scrolling is our way of practicing mindfulness, in its own weird, modern way.”

I raised an eyebrow. "Scrolling? Mindfulness?"

“Sure,” Pedrito continued, his voice calm and optimistic as always. “Think about it. We’re constantly inflamed—bodies, minds, all of it. There’s always some discomfort lurking beneath the surface, and scrolling gives us a simple way to engage with it. Not to escape, but to manage. Each swipe is like a little reminder that we’re in control, even if it’s over something small. It’s a form of agency.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “You’re too optimistic, man. It’s a distraction, pure and simple.”

“Maybe,” Pedrito said, still smiling, “but distractions are sometimes medicine. We always have inflammation somewhere, right? Physical, emotional—our bodies are always dealing with something. Scrolling, for all its faults, lets us tap into that constant hum of discomfort and, in its way, soothe it. Like giving a little love to your sore spots without even realizing.”

I stared at him, not sure whether to laugh or agree. But Pedrito, ever the optimist, kept talking.

"It’s not about avoiding pain, but about working with it," he added. “Maybe, in our endless scrolling, we’re actually finding a way to acknowledge that underlying discomfort and say, ‘Yeah, I see you. I’m still here.’”

Pedrito's glass stayed full, but his words, as usual, hit the spot.