Pity the sports commentator. The sports commentator resides in a hectic world, unremitting and turbulent. Indeed, if there were a figure that embodied the opposite of yogic equanimity and detachment, the sports commentator would probably be it. From the pregame show, through the post-game analysis, to the running commentary itself, we are immersed in a frantic atmosphere of violent mood swings, hyperbole, and alarmism.

Everything is perceived to be of monumental significance, and every action is pregnant with meaning. Towards the end of the season, every match is a “must win.” And then when that match is lost, it turns out that the loss wasn’t in fact fatal; the team still has a chance of advancing and is just under slightly more pressure. When a team has a big lead and concedes a point, the commentator rhetorically asks whether this could be the start of a dramatic comeback. The previous period of dominance is forgotten and a lone break in the pattern of play now sets the tone for the remainder of the match. The team may actually pull off the comeback, in which case the commentators hail a “historic win” that will long be remembered by the faithful fans. The same was said of similar results that, for all their recency, are no less forgotten now.

In the words of Shakespeare, this is a world full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. In more contemporary terms, most of the stuff is just noise. In reality, very little of what happens matters. Most of the time, things stay as they are. Inertia and the status quo bias are powerful forces. The supposed game-changer just passes, without effecting any major changes, and what was feared to be catastrophic turns out to be a minor setback or sometimes even a blessing in disguise. Sturgeon’s famous observation that ninety percent of everything is BS can be adapted in modified form: the putative significance of most things, in all areas of life, is a delusion, and genuine importance warranting concern and attention is decidedly the exception.

With hindsight and remove, this is usually obvious. Looking back on events after the dust has settled, you realize that your excitement or panic was misplaced. The difficulty, though, lies in maintaining this perspective in the middle of the turmoil. I think that cultivating this ability is one of the secrets to leading a happy life. The more you’re able to pierce the veil of importance that things are draped in, the better you can prevent them from unduly upsetting you. You can see them for the trivia they are and cruise by them with an air of amused detachment. You can be the proverbial eye of the storm.