Reclaiming depth in a fast world: Navigating information overload

When was the last time you picked up a book and felt it genuinely added value to your life? Recently, I read Outlive by Peter Attia, and it sparked some deeper thinking for me.

If you’re into fitness, you’re likely familiar with the endless debates surrounding diets, exercise formats, the credibility of fitness experts, and ever-shifting research on wellness. It’s a whirlwind of information, with new insights and contradictions emerging constantly. Like many, I've eagerly consumed this flood of content in the pursuit of a healthier life. But amid this abundance, it can all feel like a chaotic mess at first glance.

This drive to find clarity led me to download the e-book version of Outlive—and it turned out to be the best decision I’ve made in a while. It wasn’t just the quality of writing that impressed me; it was the depth of information and the way it encouraged a thorough exploration of each topic. It highlighted for me the importance of “digging deep,” both into the content itself and into how we question information with an open yet critical mind.

What do I mean by this? Let me explain through my experience with Outlive.

With so much conflicting information out there, and legitimate scepticism around the many voices shaping wellness trends, I approached the book with a bit of caution. I’d heard Attia’s Drive podcast and enjoyed the content there, but I found that his book went beyond the surface, delving into age-related diseases and proactive health strategies with impressive depth. It renewed my faith in long-form content and reinforced something crucial: information absorbed over time sinks in better, allowing us to question and reflect rather than merely react.

Podcasts and articles, while convenient, often provide just a slice of the larger puzzle, which can open the door to misinterpretation. In our convenience-based economy, where we are constantly consuming “bite-sized” content, the opportunity to process and question is often lost, as I’ve elaborated in my previous blog. When we do question information, it frequently manifests as outrage or a quick dismissal rather than measured reflection.

Books, on the other hand, force us to see a broader perspective. With time to digest and question, we can logically sort through what resonates, respectfully discard what doesn’t, and build a well-rounded mental framework. Long-form content, whether books or in-depth articles, also allows us to appreciate opposing perspectives without necessarily feeling threatened or pressured to align with them.

But it’s easier said than done, right? How do we make time for deep thinking when life pulls us in countless directions at once? Here’s a mental model I follow to create space for more thoughtful deliberation:

1. Identify two to three areas that are truly important to you, areas where you want to research in depth (for me, it’s personal fitness and work-related research).
2. Seek clinical studies and expert opinions, especially those that challenge each other, and reflect on what aligns best with your understanding and values.
3. Let opinions brew. Allowing thoughts to sit and simmer often helps the subconscious form logical associations without rigidifying opinions too quickly.
4. Keep beliefs fluid. A new study might upend my current view, and that’s okay; we’re all flawed, and research evolves.
5. Make room for divergent opinions among those close to you, so long as they don’t insist you adopt them.

I’m not suggesting this model will work for everyone. But finding your own method to create space for deep reflection is invaluable, whether that’s through long-form articles, re-evaluating research, or diving into books.

It’s tempting to take in information quickly, but society’s fabric of coexisting with diverse views and beliefs relies on us consuming content that truly deepens our understanding—especially on topics that shape our actions, behaviour, and interactions with others. Making room for these insights may be challenging in our fast-paced world, but I feel it’s a pursuit worth the effort.