If you know me personally, you know that I lose my phone a lot. In fact, my de facto two-truths-and-a-lie statement is:
- I have never owned a phone for over 2 years;
- I have had my phone stolen 4 times; and
- I have insurance on my current phone.
Guess which one is the lie.
I hate the (very real) privilege that this reveals: my ability to be careless with my belongings with the knowledge that I can always replace them if I need to. I can recognize this privilege while also compassionately accepting that I am just one of those people who isn’t very good at keeping track of their things.
As financially and emotionally upsetting losing my phone is (i.e., “I can’t believe I did this AGAIN”), I feel that the consistency with which I do it has taught me some very real things. Before I set up my refurbished phone and fall into its unremitting clutches oncemore, I would like to share some of these realizations:
(1) We are dependent on our phones
This one is obvious. We need phones to be functioning members in modern society (at least in the US). Try getting around a new town without a phone, relying completely on public transportation and directions that you memorized at home on Google Maps. It isn’t pretty, and it involves enlisting many innocent passersby. Try setting an alarm. Try figuring out what time it is. Try finding a Safeway.
(2) We are addicted to our phones
Phone addiction is different than dependency. Dependency involves having functional uses for our phone that necessitate having one. I.e., navigation, checking the time, communication. It’s like: Ugh, I can’t text my boss to tell them that I’m running late. Addiction involves the unconscious, habitual use of our phones for non-essential things. It’s like sitting down, immediately taking out your phone, and somehow ending up on Instagram even though you just closed the app two minutes ago. It’s like queuing up music before taking a shower or leaving your house or cleaning your room.
And let me tell you, you KNOW the difference between dependency and addiction. When you don’t know which stop is yours on the bus (dependency), you resent not having a phone and then you build up the confidence to ask someone for help. It is frustrating and inconvenient. When you can’t listen to a podcast while you clean your room (addiction), you are anxious and deeply uncomfortable. You are so used to having something playing in the background that your body physically reacts to its absence and your mind races to find alternatives. Addiction is the physical and mental discomfort that manifests when we are without constant stimulation.
(3) Phones prevent us from connecting with the world immediately around us
I’ve always been a little freaked on this one. I am proud to say that I am almost never on my phone in the presence of friends and family. I am also a DND queen so I am never disrupted mid-thought or mid-convo. This allows me to be present with the people I love.
However, when I am “alone” – you better believe my phone is on hand. This mostly involves using my AirPods when I am walking somewhere, taking the bus, riding my bike, exercising, doing yoga, sitting in a cafe, bookstore, etc.. I can usually justify it under the guise of enrichment, learning, or productivity: I’m listening to a new album! I’m learning about current events! I’m catching up with a friend!
All of these things are true and real. There are real benefits to having a phone because I can do these things. Still, I need to acknowledge that using my phone also takes away from my quality of life. It prevents me from listening to the birds sing or from hearing the laughter of a father and daughter. It keeps me from lending a helping hand to a stranger because ““I’m busy”” or ““I don’t notice.”” On the one hand, my phone allows me to create and live in my own universe, one where I control what I see, what I listen to, and who I engage with. On the other hand, it prevents me from existing in the universe that we all share.
Without my phone, I have had countless experiences and interactions with people I would not have engaged with otherwise. I hitchhiked to the bus stop with a lively group of highschool girls. I frantically rode Lime scooters to the Boulder historic courthouse with a kid named Ian only to give up and go to a cafe instead. I spoke with a guy writing a book called Getting Rich Sucks and a 70-year old biker / ex-photographer who told me that America’s problem is capitalism (!!).
I reflected on and learned mahy things from these interactions. They stand out memorably and distinctly (opposed to the nonlinear, senseless timesuck of my phone memories). These interactions entertained, stimulated, and enriched me in a way that my phone never could.
(4) We use our phones as a means of escapism
There is a lot of Buddhist teaching about how humans are always longing to escape from our present reality. We write off the now as a means to an end, something to get through until we arrive somewhere else.
This can take the form of short-term projections: Ok once I finish this paper, I’m going to go on a run and then I’ll take a shower, make dinner, and then get ready to go out. When we think like this, we aren’t actually present for anything that we do. Sure, the things get done, but we are not there doing them. We are elsewhere.
This concept also applies to long-term projections: I’m going to graduate from business school, get a good job, start my own company, sell it for a bunch of money, and then be rich and do whatever I want. In this mindset, every step of the way is just a means to an end. For many, when they arrive at the end, they feel the same emptiness that drove them there in the first place. Eek.
When we think and operate this way, phones are the perfect outlet for spending (wasting) time. Brushing your teeth? Instagram. Doing the dishes? Podcast. Folding your laundry? Audiobook. Driving to work? Alanis Morrisette. We try desperately to avoid the discomfort of life’s in-between moments, to rush through them as quickly as possible and avoid the deep truths they hold.
I especially notice that we go on our phones when we are “waiting.” This is partially because we require constant stimulus and, if you don’t know how to do it right, waiting can be very unstimulating. But it is also a testament to our discomfort with the now. You have arrived at a restaurant and you are waiting for a friend to show up. There is nothing left to do. How unsettling.
There is a theory that we reject the present moment because we are afraid of our own impermanence (AKA death). By projecting our dreams and desires into the future, we attempt to overcome death, to exist forever. In this way, we avoid sitting in the emptiness of the now, of the truth that this – laundry, dishes, homework – is all there is.
I know most of these things are obvious. Most people just shrug it off and casually admit “how bad they are with their phone.” I get it, and I’m not trying to get on my high horse* about how bad your phone is for you and how you should be a fucking hermit. Honestly, what I realized is how HARD it is to exist in today’s society without a smart phone and how nice it is to have one. Any album in the world at my fingertips. Art. Poetry. History. Unlimited information. Access to all my friends and family. Perspectives from strangers around the world. Phones are epic inventions that are going to impact the course of history and already have. These babies are here to stay.
Phones are also seriously impacting our bodies, our minds, our connections, and our society in tons of noticeable, negative ways. We are constantly stimulated, always looking for the next dopamine fix. We cannot sit still and always need to be doing something – liking, posting, sharing, listening, consuming. We rely on our phones to avoid uncomfortable feelings and situations. Phones prevent us from connecting with the people around us through shared experiences. Despite the many ways phones connect us digitally, in reality we are isolated.
As is everything, managing my relationship with my phone is a practice. Boundaries reveal themselves as I test them. I go through phases of activity and inactivity on social media. Sometimes taking pictures is a form of creative expression or art; other times it steals away a beautiful moment from me. When I discovered Jagged Little Pill, my phone lifted me from a dark place and inspired me for weeks on end. Now, silence, that which holds the sound of wind, rustling leaves, and trickling water, fills my cup.
I guess what I’m trying to say is be intentional with how you interact with your phone. Use it; don’t let it use you.
*In fact, I was just so humbled** by my roommate Martin. Our interaction went something like this:
Molly: It’s crazy how addicted we are to our phones. They completely run our lives.
Martin: Yeah. That’s why I’ve never spent money on an expensive phone.
Molly: …
**Another recent interaction that left me extremely humbled*** was this one with my dad:
***Despite being imperfect and maybe a huge fucking hypocrite, I’ve decided to publish this anyway because (1) I spent too much time on it and (2) I think it’s nutritious food for thought [perhaps for me especially]
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