Depth or dopamine: what are you designing your life for?
Lately, I’ve noticed a lot of sameness online: the same formats, the same phrasing, the same neatly packaged “insights” delivered in bite-sized doses.
As someone who has become more active in publishing content recently, this has felt both like a blessing and a curse.
A curse because the sheer volume of content flooding our feeds makes it harder for thoughtful, human stories to surface. The people who might genuinely benefit from what we’re sharing have to wade through whatever the algorithm serves them that day — quick takes, recycled wisdom and perfectly polished posts designed to stop the scroll.
But it’s also a blessing.
Because when something real does appear, it’s often immediately recognisable. A real person. A real experience. A real insight. Not optimised for virality, but grounded in life as it’s actually lived. The trade-off, of course, is effort.
It’s far easier to produce content at scale than it is to produce content with depth.
And that poses an important question - not just for content creators, but for all of us: Do we choose quantity, stimulation and visibility? Or do we choose fewer things, done with intention and humanity?
In other words, are we chasing dopamine or depth?
What’s struck me recently is that this isn’t only a social media question. It’s a life question: How do we spend our free time? What do we reach for when we’re tired, overwhelmed or seeking relief?
Are we filling our days with thousands of small neurological hits - or are we stretching our thinking, strengthening our presence and deepening our capacity?
This tension became very real for me in a different context altogether.
Intending and structuring for depth
My wife, children and I have a daily practice of reciting a few pages of Qur’an together. Over time, it’s become a meaningful rhythm in our home - grounding, connecting and anchoring us in something deeper than the busyness of everyday life.
Recently, we found ourselves in different time zones. The intention was simple: we’d each continue the practice in our respective locations. That didn’t happen. Not because the intention wasn’t sincere and not because the value wasn’t there. But because the structure - the routine and context - had changed.
So we adapted.
We decided a time that worked across time zones. We shortened the session. We committed to a shared video call. After day one, we shifted an hour later. After day two, we shifted it to earlier in the day. Three days in and this practice is holding. The lesson was subtle, but powerful: good intention alone is rarely enough.
Depth - whether in faith, leadership, relationships or personal growth - doesn’t sustain itself on desire alone. It needs design. It needs protection. It needs to be made easier than the alternatives competing for our attention.
Designing for depth
As another New Year begins, many of us will once again set goals. We’ll resolve to be better, do more, live differently. And often, we’ll do so with genuine sincerity.
But perhaps the more important question isn’t what we intend to change. Perhaps it’s what we are designing our lives around.
Are we building our days, habits and environments to support depth - or are we leaving ourselves at the mercy of convenience, stimulation and distraction?
Clarity doesn’t usually arrive in a flash. More often, it emerges slowly, when we reduce the noise and create space for what matters to take root. And for many people, this is the quiet tension of the season - not a crisis, but a sense of murkiness. Of wanting something more purposeful, more grounded, more aligned, without quite knowing how to get there.
Final thought
If the start of this year has you questioning what you’re designing your life around - what’s depth and what’s just dopamine - you don’t have to work that out alone.
Sometimes clarity comes from having a thinking partner to help separate noise from what actually matters. If that feels useful, you’re welcome to reach out. No pressure. Just a conversation.
Go on, take the Next Step.
