In today's hyperconnected world with all its distractions, I fear it's not just our playlists but our minds that are on Shuffle.

A person's day—and a person's life—should be fueled by all the thought, intention, and inspiration that go into a great album. The kind you listen to again and again. Instead we're too often adopting the mindset of mainstream radio DJs: bouncing from one thing to the next, hoping to amuse, to stimulate, to kill time without leaving ourselves anything of much substance to ponder or push us to greater heights.

Sure, we sometimes stumble upon something of value, but how often do we bother to internalize these things and take them with us, giving them the time which truly valuable things require to burrow beneath the surface and affect us—to really change us—in a long-lasting and positive way?

It seems to me that a well-lived life has a kind of cumulative quality to it. It is constructed through the process of not just finding good things, but embracing them, examining them and revisiting their goodness regularly while building upon that goodness with ever-more-advanced, ever-more-elusive and nuanced sources of goodness which require the integrity of the previously-embraced goodness to hold them in place, to serve as their foundation.

In this sense, a well-lived life can be thought of as a castle. It is built up and made strong not with rocks, but with all the good things we have the discipline and foresight to carry with us and rediscover with greater depth throughout the years. These are the things that will enhance and fortify our lives—and even themselves and each other—in extraordinary and unforeseen ways if only we allow them the necessary time and breathing room to do so.

But instead of building castles we're skipping stones. Instead of cherishing what's good and patiently learning to unlock all of its hidden and mysterious possibilities, we merely applaud good things for the briefest of moments before tossing them aside to wander off aimlessly on our merry, multitasking way.

When in the presence of something truly good, we should pause and say, "This is good. What can I do with it?" Instead we say, "That was good. What else is there?"