Everyone feels a little FOMO sometimes – the fear of missing out, that is. FOMO can strike anyone, anywhere, from a college student who skips a party to study for an important midterm, to someone who can’t decide between two events on the same evening. If left unchecked, FOMO can spiral into a larger sense of dreadful wondering that, in the words of Mindy Kaling, “Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?”
According to Anil Dash, however, FOMO has a flip side: JOMO, or the JOY of missing out. Life is hectic and too easily over-scheduled, Dash writes. If you flip the switch, missing out on an event here or there in order to relax, unwind, and just *be,* can actually be rejuvenating for the spirit. In Jewish tradition, Shabbat offers a chance to unplug and celebrate JOMO one day every week.
Don’t take our word for it. Check out an excerpt of the essay below, and read the whole thing over at Anil Dash’s site.
When people move to New York City, I tend to give them a few bits of advice that I learned the hard way in my first few years living in the city. There are the usual truisms about using public transit and how to save money and getting the most out of our public spaces. But inevitably, I tell people: You’re going to miss stuff. On any given day, in New York City, there’s an event going on that would be the best event of the year back in your hometown. And most of the time, you’re not going to be there.
You miss a wonderful event or a really special moment because you’re too broke to go, or because you couldn’t get tickets in time. You stay home because you weren’t going to know anybody there, or because you were going to know everybody there. You stay home in case she calls, or in case he shows up. You get halfway to the party but turn around because you’re underdressed or overdressed or still hung over or because you have to work in the morning.
Sometimes, you don’t go to that amazing event because you’re just going to stay home and read a book or watch TV or flick away idly at your phone, only realizing you’ve missed the moment when it’s already too late. And then, when you get old and wonderfully, contentedly boring like me, you stay home because you’d rather be there for bathtime and bedtime with the baby than, well, anywhere else in the world.
This is the Joy of Missing Out.