Bread, Circuses, and the Cost of Our Attention

Commentary

I spent many years of my life in the music industry, and Super Bowl Sunday was never just about football. It was about being somewhere that mattered. I hosted big Super Bowl parties at my house. I went to even bigger ones. One year, I even won the betting pool at a Super Bowl party hosted by Sean “Diddy” Combs.

It feels strange at this point in my life to even write that, given everything that has come to light in recent years. It wasn’t that kind of party, at least not the one I experienced. What I remember most is that it was cold outside by the pool, and I wore a puffy down jacket for most of the night.

When I left early, my brother grabbed my jacket and put it on. It was clearly too small for him, sleeves riding up his arms, zipper barely cooperating. He shrugged and said: “Everyone here is addicted to being cool. I’ll be the guy who’s not cool, wearing a too-small girl’s down jacket.”

That moment stuck with me more than any celebrity sighting or game score. Even then, part of me could feel how much energy went into performing coolness—being seen, being in the right place, signaling status without ever saying it out loud.

Looking back, I realize that most of those parties had very little to do with the game itself. They were about being seen, being at the cool place, being part of the cultural moment. The game was just the backdrop, an excuse for gathering, networking, and signaling that you were in the right rooms with the right people.

Somewhere along the way, though, something shifted for me. I started realizing that wherever we put our attention, we put our life force. Our energy is not neutral. It feeds something. It builds something. It strengthens whatever we consistently focus on, whether that’s our family, our work, our faith, or a spectacle.

And the Super Bowl is one of the largest collective attention events in the country. Nearly everyone is watching. The advertisers know it. The media know it. The cultural machine knows it. It’s a spectacle designed to capture emotion, focus, and conversation all at once.

“Bread and circuses” is the old phrase. Keep people entertained, and they won’t notice much else.

For the past four or five years, I’ve consciously chosen not to participate. Not just in the Super Bowl, but in sports in general. I decided I didn’t want my mood, my energy, or my emotional state to rise and fall based on how someone else plays a game on a field that has no real impact on my daily life.

I think about my cousin Robbie, a lifelong New York Jets fan. Being a Jets fan is not an easy road. I lived with Robbie for many years, and I’d watch him start the day in a perfectly good mood. The Jets would play, and by evening, he’d be deflated, irritated, or just plain bummed out. I remember thinking, why hand over your emotional well-being like that? Why not give it up and spend that same time gardening, growing food, walking the dogs, cooking a meal, or going to the gym?

I’m not judging anyone who loves sports. Truly. Community, shared rituals, and even friendly rivalry can be beautiful. But at some point, I realized I didn’t want that particular distraction in my life. I didn’t want my nervous system tied to a scoreboard.

This past Super Bowl Sunday, I got up early and wrote an article. Then I drove into San Antonio for a book signing during the farmers market at The Twig Book Shop at the Pearl. While much of the country was gearing up for parties and screens, I was talking with readers face-to-face, signing books, and having real conversations about food, farming, and faith.

When I arrived back at the ranch, I joined my oldest son, my husband, and my uncle, and we loaded eight hogs for harvest. It wasn’t glamorous work, but it was real. It required our hands, our focus, and our cooperation. It connected us directly to the responsibility of raising animals for food, something most people are now several steps removed from.

We closed our on-farm restaurant, The Barn, a little early that day because most people were home watching the game. Instead of pushing to stay open for a slow evening, we leaned into the rhythm of the day and went home.

Back at the house, I made yogurt and put together some snacks for the kids. Later, we all sat down and watched an episode of “Best Ever Food Review Show,” hosted by Sonny Side, a YouTuber my kids have loved for years. They dream of him coming to the ranch one day to try our food. We spent time looking at the kids’ natural fish tanks and talking about adding more plants.

Then we went to bed.

I somehow managed to avoid knowing who won, what the commercials were, or what halftime spectacle everyone would be talking about the next day. And I’m OK with that.

We are living in an intense moment in history. There are real questions about food, land, family, health, faith, and community that deserve our attention. Yet we are constantly offered distraction, spectacle, outrage, and entertainment to keep us occupied.

“Bread and circuses” doesn’t have to be sports. It can be social media, streaming shows, political drama, or endless scrolling. It can be anything that keeps us watching instead of living. I just decided that for me, sports was one distraction I could consciously lay down.

Instead, I want more prayer. More people on the land. More time outside in real life with family and friends. More hands in the soil. More meals cooked at home. More walks at sunset. Less time staring at screens, reacting to things I can’t control.

Everyone chooses where their energy goes. This is just one choice I’ve made. And on Super Bowl Sunday, while most of the country watched a game, I watched my real life unfold right in front of me. For me, that felt like the better show.

Views expressed in this article are the opinions of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of The Epoch Times.