Everybody gets so much information all day long that they lose

Hear, O seeker of truth, the voice of Gertrude Stein, poet of the modern age, who lived amidst the roaring turbulence of the twentieth century. She declared with piercing clarity: “Everybody gets so much information all day long that they lose their common sense.” Though uttered in her own time, these words now ring with even greater force, as if spoken not for her generation alone, but for ours, when floods of voices and messages crash upon us like endless waves. It is a lamentation of the mind overwhelmed, of wisdom drowned beneath noise.

For information in itself is not evil. Like the rain, it nourishes when measured, but it destroys when it floods. In every age, mankind has sought to gather knowledge—through scrolls, through books, through the sciences of the wise. But when knowledge multiplies without measure, when the heart cannot sift nor the spirit discern, then clarity is lost. The human being, once guided by common sense, stumbles in confusion, unable to distinguish the true from the false, the useful from the trivial, the eternal from the fleeting.

Consider the tale of the Tower of Babel. In their ambition, the people sought to build a tower that reached the heavens. They multiplied words and languages, but their unity of spirit was broken, and confusion reigned. Is this not the same peril Stein foresaw? A humanity surrounded by countless voices, all speaking, all proclaiming, until the ears are deafened and the mind loses its path. For common sense—that humble, guiding flame—is easily extinguished in the storm of ceaseless chatter.

History bears witness to the same truth. In the early days of the printing press, a flood of pamphlets, tracts, and books poured into Europe. The gift of knowledge was mighty, but it also brought chaos, as lies traveled as swiftly as truth. Wars of faith and ideology raged, fanned by words on parchment. Many souls, drowning in conflicting claims, lost their grounding in simple wisdom. What was needed then—and what is needed now—was not more voices, but the ability to listen deeply, discern carefully, and anchor one’s heart in common sense.

In our own age, the information flood has become a torrent beyond imagining. The screen glows with news, images, and opinions that pour into the mind from dawn to dusk. A man reads of tragedies across oceans, quarrels of strangers, proclamations of experts, and whispers of rumors, all in the same hour. He consumes so much that he can no longer see what is before him: his family, his neighbors, the needs of his own heart. Thus, as Stein foretold, the abundance of information robs him of his common sense—the wisdom to act rightly in the moment, to see clearly with unclouded eyes.

Therefore, my child, the lesson is clear: Seek not endless streams of information, but pursue understanding. Guard your mind against excess, as you would guard your body against gluttony. When voices surround you, return to silence. When knowledge overwhelms, return to what is simple and true. Ask not always, “What do others say?” but rather, “What do I know in my conscience, in my experience, in my heart?” For common sense is not learned from the flood—it is preserved in the well of quiet reflection.

What then must you do? Limit the noise. Choose carefully the sources you heed. Do not measure wisdom by the volume of what you hear, but by the clarity of what you understand. Practice the art of stillness, of discernment, of simplicity. Let your information serve your life, not consume it. For the mind that rests upon common sense will stand firm when others falter, and will see truth even when surrounded by shadows.

Thus let Stein’s words endure as a warning and a guide: “Everybody gets so much information all day long that they lose their common sense.” Do not be among the lost. Hold fast to the simple light of reason, sharpened by reflection and guarded by silence. In this way, you will not drown in the flood of voices, but will walk upon the waters with balance, wisdom, and strength.