I pulled to the curb, grabbed my wallet and keys, and headed to our local coffee shop for an iced tea. When I reached the door, I remembered my phone and ran back to the car to get it. Wait, I said to myself as I opened the driver’s side door. What are you doing? You’ll be in the café for less than five minutes. I relocked the car and went back without my phone.

Over the past year, I’ve been paying closer attention to when and where I use my cellphone, with the goal of cutting back. I grew tired of being so plugged into everyone else’s life that I felt disconnected from my own. One day, while scrolling through Instagram, I realized I don’t need to know what a colleague had for breakfast. I don’t have to read about the celebrations or accomplishments of people I don’t know well. And I don’t want to keep triggering the part of my brain prone to comparison. I’ve already lived a pretty exciting life. Peace is my priority now.

I’m also no longer interested in filling my head with a constant stream of information. In my wisdom years, I’m partial to depth, to being more than doing, and to making sure I’m available for the creative flow of the present moment.

Attention is a valuable asset. Where we focus our attention determines our thoughts, choices, intentions, and behaviors. While I appreciate that our phones give us access to valuable information, how much information do we really need, and at what cost?

In 2022, I read a book called Stolen Focus by Johann Hari, where he writes about this cost. After extensive research on technology and its impact on human beings, he says:

“I don’t think it’s a coincidence that this crisis in paying attention has taken place at the same time as the worst crisis of democracy since the 1930s. People who can’t focus will be more drawn to simplistic authoritarian solutions—and less likely to see clearly when they fail. A world full of attention‑deprived citizens alternating between Twitter and Snapchat will be a world of cascading crises where we can’t get a handle on any of them.”

A chilling statement given our current global situation. For years, I’ve said that the advancement of technology without the evolution of consciousness is a recipe for disaster. And the recipe for healing begins with how we engage with this technology in our daily lives. Disaster is not inevitable when we remember that technology does not raise consciousness. Presence does.

Don’t worry. If you’ve noticed an attachment to your phone, you can reclaim your power starting today. Don’t take the phone into the bathroom anymore. Challenge yourself to leave it in the car when you have to wait in line somewhere. Learn to enjoy your own company again while waiting for a friend at dinner instead of launching into someone else’s life on social media. Get it (and everyone connected to it) out of your bedroom (this one is REALLY important). They still make old-fashioned alarm clocks if you need one.

If the message to disconnect sounds alarming, it’s because it is. Your phone doesn’t need you. You need you. And we need you, too.

Love,

Cheryl