Neutral Ground in a Noisy World
As I wandered through social media this morning—scrolling past posts, comments, headlines, and hot takes—I noticed a familiar pattern. People tend to cluster around voices that echo their own. It’s human nature, really. We gravitate toward viewpoints that align with ours because it feels safer, simpler, and more validating. Especially as we get older, we become less tolerant of cognitive dissonance—the discomfort that comes from holding or encountering conflicting ideas. We start pruning our digital landscapes, curating our feeds, and filtering out the noise of opposition. This tendency is particularly visible in discussions about social and political issues, where the stakes feel high and the emotions run deep. But while this instinct might protect our sense of identity, it comes with an unexpected consequence—one that can quietly distort our perception of the world around us.
To explain what I mean, I put together a simple graphic using waves.
Let’s talk about what this image represents.
In physics, when two waves of the same frequency meet, their interaction depends on their alignment. If their peaks and troughs match perfectly—called being "in phase"—they amplify one another. This is known as constructive interference. The resulting wave is stronger, taller, and more intense.
On the other hand, if their peaks and troughs oppose—when one wave’s peak meets the other’s trough—they cancel each other out. This is called destructive interference. The result is a flattened wave, where energy is diminished or neutralized.
Now, take that principle and apply it to human interaction.
When we surround ourselves with people who believe exactly what we believe, it creates a feedback loop. Every opinion, every fear, every emotional peak gets reflected back to us and amplified. We feel validated, emboldened, and sometimes inflamed. The wave gets taller. The emotions grow stronger. That’s constructive interference (although it's rarely constructive).
At first, this might feel empowering. There’s solidarity in a group that shares your passion, your beliefs, your outrage. But when unchecked, that amplification can become dangerous. What starts as a concern becomes a crisis. What begins as frustration becomes fury. The volume of our belief drowns out the nuance.
And here’s the problem: waves don’t only amplify joy or pride or hope. They also amplify fear, anxiety, and despair. That’s the bi-polar effect I want to talk about.
Social media is the ideal echo chamber. Algorithms are built to keep us engaged, and what keeps us engaged is what keeps us emotionally activated. That means we’re more likely to see content that aligns with our current beliefs and feelings. The wave effect kicks in. And as more content shows up that confirms our outlook, we sink deeper into the troughs or rise higher on the crests. The extremes become our new normal.
The result? We see our fellow citizens, coworkers, even family members not as people, but as opponents. We polarize. We demonize. We distance.
But here’s where the metaphor of waves becomes useful again: just as constructive interference amplifies, destructive interference can balance. When opposing waves meet, their energy can cancel out. It’s not about one wave dominating the other, but about equilibrium.
When we surround ourselves with people who challenge our views, it can be uncomfortable. But that discomfort is the beginning of balance. It tempers the emotional highs and lows. It creates space for reason, moderation, and empathy. The wave flattens—not into apathy, but into something more stable.
In a world of constant amplification, balance feels like silence. But it isn’t silence—it’s peace.
Now, I want to get more specific about the dangers of unchecked alignment. Consider political tribes, online conspiracy communities, or even fandoms gone toxic. These environments thrive on constructive interference. Every new post, every shared article, every reinforcing comment builds a wave that grows until it crashes. Often, these crashes manifest as real-world consequences: violence, disillusionment, depression, or rash decisions.
Think about the emotional toll of believing that the world is ending, that your enemies are everywhere, that justice is out of reach. When that belief is constantly reinforced, not challenged, it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. The wave of despair can sweep a person off their feet.
Conversely, even positive feedback loops can be problematic. Blind optimism, constant affirmation, or the belief that your ideology or lifestyle is unquestionably superior can lead to arrogance, denial, and reckless choices. It’s still a wave—it’s just a different direction. And when reality eventually contradicts that wave, the crash is just as hard.
What’s missing from both extremes is friction—the kind of tension that comes from engaging with people who see the world differently. This friction isn’t a threat; it’s a stabilizer. It’s the conversation that brings you down from a manic high or lifts you out of a depressive spiral. It’s the reminder that your perspective is valuable but not universal. That your beliefs are strong, but not infallible.
And it’s that reminder that prevents existential crises. When we’re too high on the wave, we start to believe we’re gods. When we’re too low, we think we’re worthless. Both extremes distort our sense of self. Balance gives us clarity. It helps us see who we really are—not the best or the worst, but something grounded and real.
So what can we do?
We can intentionally invite opposing views into our feed. Follow people who challenge you. Read books by authors you disagree with. Have conversations—not debates—with those on the other side. Don’t just seek to be right; seek to understand.
We can also practice emotional hygiene. Recognize when you’re riding a wave and ask: am I being swept away, or am I standing on solid ground? Am I thinking clearly, or am I caught in an echo?
And most importantly, we can remember that harmony doesn’t mean uniformity. True harmony—like in music—is the interplay of different notes, sometimes even dissonant ones, coming together to make something beautiful.
So yes, there’s comfort in surrounding yourself with like-minded people. But there’s wisdom—and peace—in surrounding yourself with diversity of thought.
We weren’t meant to live in waves of constant crescendo. We were meant for rhythm, for ebb and flow. For moments of stillness between the sound.
Let’s seek that stillness. Let’s flatten the wave—just enough to breathe.