
Word of the Week
by shahbod noori
9/20/2026
Are We Still Living for Ourselves, or for the Approval of Others?
Imagine a family sitting down for dinner at a beautiful restaurant. The food arrives, but nobody is allowed to touch it yet. Mom is adjusting the lighting, Dad is moving his plate to a better position, and their child has been assigned the important task of recording a video.
After several minutes of photography, dinner can finally begin—although the food is no longer particularly warm!
The scene may sound amusing, but it is becoming increasingly familiar.
In today’s world, simply living our lives sometimes seems insufficient. We feel the need to prove that we are living them.
We travel, and everyone must see it. We enjoy a beautiful meal, and we photograph it. We receive a gift, and we announce it. Even romantic moments, birthdays, our children’s achievements, and sometimes our grief become material for public consumption.
When did our private lives become public performances? And when did we turn everyone else into a permanent audience?
From Creating Memories to Creating Content
In the past, families took photographs during vacations so they could revisit those memories years later.
Family albums were filled with imperfect pictures. Someone had their eyes closed. The lighting was terrible. A child was crying at precisely the wrong moment.
Yet those imperfect photographs captured genuine memories.
Today, we sometimes search for the perfect camera angle before appreciating the scenery. We worry about lighting and presentation before tasting our food. We may even choose hotels and restaurants based more on how attractive they look in photographs than on the experience they offer.
There is nothing wrong with photography or sharing happy moments. The problem begins when documenting an experience replaces experiencing it.
Did we truly enjoy that magnificent sunset if we spent the entire time trying to capture the perfect picture for social media?
Beautiful Displays, Hidden Realities
Social media allows us to see parts of other people’s lives that previous generations could never have imagined accessing.
Luxurious homes, expensive cars, exotic vacations, glamorous parties, and smiling faces appear on our screens every day.
But what we see is usually not an entire life. It is a carefully selected portion of one.
A couple may post a romantic photograph while experiencing the same relationship challenges that many couples face. Someone may pose beside an expensive car without revealing whether they own it. A family may share photographs from a dream vacation while keeping their everyday worries private.
This does not necessarily mean anyone is being dishonest. Everyone has the right to privacy and to share their happiest moments.
The difficulty arises when we compare someone else’s selected highlights with the complete reality of our own lives.
Suddenly, our home seems inadequate. Our vacation appears ordinary. Our celebrations feel unimpressive.
Instead of appreciating what we have, we begin longing for a lifestyle that may not even represent the full reality of someone else’s existence.
When Happiness Depends on Likes
One of the strangest developments of the digital age is our tendency to measure the value of an experience through other people’s reactions.
We post a photograph and check our phones a few minutes later.
How many people liked it? Who commented? Why didn’t a particular friend respond?
Sometimes a wonderful celebration, memorable vacation, or personal achievement feels less satisfying simply because it received fewer reactions than expected.
But should our happiness really depend on how many people press a button on a screen?
Imagine your child achieves something remarkable at university. Does that achievement become more valuable after receiving hundreds of congratulatory messages?
Or is the moment you embrace your child and smile with pride already meaningful enough?
Recognition can be pleasant, but it should not become the only measure of our satisfaction with life.
Celebrations for a Virtual Audience
The culture of performance has also entered our celebrations.
Birthdays that require months of planning, parties where decorations become more important than the occasion itself, and gatherings where photography consumes a substantial portion of the evening are increasingly familiar.
At some events, guests must pose for several cameras before they have an opportunity to enjoy a conversation.
The host may become so concerned about appearances that they enjoy the celebration less than anyone else.
There is nothing wrong with beautiful parties, hospitality, or special occasions. The question is whether the purpose is to celebrate or to create an impressive image for others.
What have we gained if our party looks perfect in photographs but leaves us exhausted and anxious?
Children: Unwilling Participants in the Performance
One particularly important issue involves children.
Some parents begin sharing photographs and personal details about their children from the moment they are born.
First steps, first days at school, birthday parties, and even moments of embarrassment or distress may be shared with hundreds or thousands of strangers.
But can a young child who does not yet understand privacy meaningfully agree to having their personal life displayed online?
A photograph that seems adorable to parents today may become embarrassing to their child years later.
Parents can preserve precious family memories without making every memory public.
Sometimes one of the greatest gifts we can give our children is the right to have a private life.
Are We Part of the Performance Too?
It is easy to criticize other people’s behavior. Examining our own choices can be more revealing.
How often have we selected clothing, restaurants, or vacation destinations while wondering what other people would think?
How often have we purchased something we did not genuinely need because we believed it would improve our image?
How many beautiful moments have we failed to enjoy because we were busy recording and sharing them?
These questions are not intended to make us feel guilty. They are an invitation to regain control over our decisions.
Buying a car because we genuinely love it is a personal choice. Buying it solely to convince others that we are successful raises a different question: who is really directing our lives?
Privacy: A Forgotten Luxury
There was a time when privacy was simply a normal part of everyday life.
Not everyone needed to know where we went, what we ate, or whom we met.
Today, we sometimes behave as though an event never truly happened unless it was posted online.
Yet some of life’s most beautiful moments are those for which no photographs exist.
A long conversation with an old friend. Unexpected laughter around the dinner table. Walking beside someone we love. Sitting quietly with our parents.
These moments do not require an audience to become meaningful.
Privacy is not secrecy. It is the freedom to decide what we wish to share with the world and what we prefer to keep for ourselves.
Returning From Performing Life to Living It
We do not need to abandon social media or stop sharing beautiful photographs.
These platforms can reconnect old friends, bring distant families closer, help artists and business owners reach new audiences, and allow people to celebrate one another’s happiness.
What matters is using them consciously.
Perhaps we can occasionally enjoy a meal without photographing it. Take a vacation intended for relaxation rather than content creation. Put our phones away during a gathering and have genuine conversations.
Most importantly, we can allow certain moments to belong only to us.
Life is not a beauty contest, an exhibition of possessions, or a stage on which we must constantly earn applause.
We do not have to prove that we are happy every single day.
We are here to live—with good days and difficult ones, successes and failures, homes that are not always perfectly organized, and faces that do not always wear smiles.
Perhaps the day we can enjoy a beautiful moment without feeling obligated to show it to everyone else is the day we recover an important part of our freedom.
The most beautiful life is not necessarily the one with the largest audience. It is the life whose owner finds satisfaction in living it, even when nobody is watching.
